Ms X, your script is ready!

Its cold and flu season so no surprises that quite a few of us are spending time in the chemist.

Cough medicine; something to ease that dry, raspy throat; a concoction to loosen up that congestion; or maybe just a quick packet of butter menthols.

If you’re grabbing something “off the shelf” then a chemist is actually a fun shop to be in. You know basically what you want so you head for the appropriate aisle, grab the goods and head for the counter.

At worst, you’ll need to ask help from one of the assistants, but by and large it’s an easy, trauma free shopping experience.

Not so if you have to get a prescription filled.

Regardless of what’s on the paperwork, you KNOW people are looking at you and wondering if it’s something for a fungal infection in an inconvenient location, or a bottle of magic pills to rid you of that nasty rash your friend gave you.

Let’s put the actual prescription aside and return to the chemist shop.

Normally I really like chemist shops. Most of the things are practical and generally speaking the shops smell pretty nice. The staff are always pleasant and the people standing behind the counter on the big raised platform up the back are professionals, not salesmen.

Why they have to be a little higher than we - the great unwashed and probably unwell – that’s a blog post for another day…

Chemist shops are not the ideal venue for killing time.

While waiting for your script to be filled (which always seems to be “about 10 minutes” regardless of if it’s a pre-packed contraception pill or the most complicated individually prepared elixir) you have to kill some time.

I can browse the video shops, book shops and department stores for 10 minutes. In fact I can browse some of these shops for what could be considered far too long.

But I cannot browse a chemist shop for too long. And I pity the men hanging around for a script.

I can run my eye over the latest age-defying, gravity-defying, IQ-defying make-up and even turn into a walking aromatherapy session by trying all the perfumes or essential oils.

Sorry fellas – you’d look a little odd doing that and answering the chirpy shop assistant with “I’m looking for something for my {insert partner type here}” sounds a little lame when you’ve been hanging around for a while with your hands in your pockets. An face it, you start to look a little creepy.

So where else can you browse in the chemist while you’re waiting?

These days we’re spoilt for choice on the vitamins and supplements so maybe heading over the all natural, preservative free mega dose aisles could work. Well it could until you realise you’ve just started reading the ingredients in the herbal remedy for menopause or morning sickness…

Oh how quickly we can be judged by our choice of pills in a jar!

Let’s head over to the athletic looking stuff. That’s got to be ok. Right? There are support bandages and braces, maybe some heart or blood pressure monitors – it’s all very cool. Until you realise that right next to all this gear which you thought was safe is the athlete’s foot fungal cream, and you’re standing RIGHT IN FRONT OF IT!

You cannot browse in any area where there are creams for fungal anything. That’s a rule.

At a pinch I could casually wander over to the feminine hygiene products – gee I love that phrase – but we girls know it’s not an area for browsing. You know what you want, you get it, you move on. No browsing required.

Check the watch… it’s only been six minutes. Four more to go.

At this point I suspect the staff are starting to lay bets on where I’ll browse next.

On top of the pressure from the staff is the un-written rule of fellow script-vultures. You cannot browse near another person who is also waiting for a script. You must browse alone. And conversation is strictly forbidden.

Do not ask someone what sort of script they’re getting filled. This is a crucial rule. And if someone (who doesn’t know this rule) asks you, always replay that it’s a refill for your son’s asthma puffer. He may not have asthma, he may not even exist – but this answer is standard code for “do not ask me what my script is for, you moron! Don’t you know the rule!?!”

Suddenly you discover the one thing I’ve never understood in the chemist – the lollies near the counter. They seem like a bit of a contradiction – lollies in the place where they sell stuff to keep you healthy, but they get around that by flogging them as glucose for diabetics.

Fair enough – but I reckon a fair few non-diabetics do the bulk of the buying… Especially those jellybeans. Have you noticed the jellybeans in the chemist are not only the most delicious and the largest but also how EXPENSIVE they are! Clearly they have some sort of pharmacist-endorsed sugar rather than the normal type. Or it could be the similarly special jellybabies, chicos, jubes, or butterscotches…and the list goes on.

Once you’ve discovered the lollies you realise that you’ve found an escape. For $2.50 you can now buy a little peace. You grab a packet and stand in line waiting to be served. The two old darlings in front of you will take ages because you know they’ll pay in exact money and most of it will be meticulously counted out in small coins.

You know they have prescriptions that have been filled – but you know you don’t REALLY want to know for what.

Now, you’ve got your jellybeans and you head from the front counter to the back of the shop where you hope your script is done.

Not so. That tired looking middle aged man who arrived well after you has his name called and heads over to chat with the bloke in the white coat and flash nametag.

Why do they insist on using our names? Why not have a supermarket style system where you take a number! Nice and anonymous, no one knows anyone else’s business, you can fade into insignificance. But no – they call out our NAME so all and sundry know that YOU have a prescription for something. And as I said at the beginning…you know what they’re really thinking…

The man gets a special docket to go with his medication, and this he takes back to the front of the shop again, to the counter.

Now you’re a reasonable person. You understand that some medications will take longer to prepare than others, that some individuals may have a long standing relationship with this chemist so their meds are easy to put together. But still, you’re a bit miffed that he got his before you got yours, even though you arrived first.

While you’re wondering about just what that man has in that packet, your name is called and you go through the same process. Although you wish the pharmacist had said your name a little quieter. You’re the only one standing near the desk anyway so why tell the whole shop, right?

Think the process is over? Nope. Now you have your special docket and you have to head to the front of the shop and pay. Back in line you go.

At this stage you’re trying to hold your meds discreetly, striking that balance between maintaining a little privacy and not looking like a shoplifter! Then you hand your packet or bottle and the docket over to the cashier, they blip the docket and check it against the packet. You hold your breath…

(please no price check, please no price check, please no price check…)

It’s all good and you cannot get out of there quick enough.

God help us all if they decide to go with a plan to put pharmacies in supermarkets. It has been talked about before and dare say it will be on the cards again in the future. A most unpleasant shopping experience!

This is what it’s like buying legal, legitimate, prescribed drugs.

IMAGINE the stress of trying to score a little something on the street…