Rite Aid for the Mystery Shopper

Bainbridge Gimp Shopper Gnuzworks. What was I thinking: I was thinking I wanted to support Johnson & Johnson Lifescan because they have the most accessible web service. Afterall, buying a blood glucose testing meter is a crap shoot – it’s the test strips (at about $0.95 a pop) – where they make their bucks. Like I said, the Mystery Shopper and his (now notorious) service pup Theo, support companies that design web pages phrenlee to the disabled.

Ha. ha. ha. (maybe one more) ha. It says on the box SAVE! up to $60.00. Well, you send in the rebate and turn in your old meter. “Where?” I ask Vicki, the pharmacist.

Let me explain. This is no ordinary pharmacist. This is a Washington State licensed, Rite Aid pharmacist, licensed to tell the truth and (occasionally), serve the health of her customers… oops clients… or shoppers (does that inclued mystery shoppers?).

She doesn’t know, but after conferring with another pharmacist, decides she has the authority (since she is selling a diagnostic medical device, the misuse of which could result in injury or death), to open the box and look inside. She pulls out a piece of paper and reads it. “You send in your old meter.” She answers authoritatively, looking prim in her starched white smock.

“Really?” I ask (accented stutter on the last syllabble, to disguise my sarcasm. “Let me see.” She hands me the paper, which I scan in 30 seconds. The mystery shopper is dumb struck. Is that a Washington State licensed Rite Aid pharmacist that just lied to my face (the face of a mystery shopper), in the presence of my caregiver? “Show me,” I say handing her back the paper.

“Well, I don’t know,” Vicki replies. “We don’t make them”.

“No,” I snapped “You sell them. You have about 20 boxes of Johnson & Johnson meters on the shelf.” Expert mystery shopper that I am, I am not intimidated by the white smock with no wrinkles. A mystery shopper knows what a mystery shopper wants. “How about a little truth in advertising?” I ask.

“Would you like me to call the company?” Vicki asks – professionally defiant and down shifting into passive-agressive mode. A customer hollers over the window, “Can I get some help here?”, Vicki is looks like she thinks she can out-distance me with a stubborn, pharmacokinetic energy.

“Vicki,” I say as sweetly as I can. “I have 15 pieces of steel in both my legs and if I have to stand here much longer in pain, I will get cranky. Do you want me to get cranky on you?”

Vicki looks at me blankly. Obviously, this was not covered in the Washington State licensing examination. “Would you like to speak with the manager”. Maybe she meant ‘M’anager – I don’t know.

“I did” I say, now confident in the only way a Mystery Shopper can be confident. “About a year ago, on the TTY. I still have the transcript. I asked your manager for reasonable accommodation under the law and he told me “I can take my phreaking business somewhere else, if I want reasonable accommodation.” Vicki is definitely out-distancing me now, as she fades further into the white background, looking smock-on-smock white.

“And you know what I did, Vick?” She shakes her head, as if she is getting a little dizzy. “No”, she says quietly.

“I took my phreaking business somewhere else, and Savon Pharmacies are, well you know, compassionate and truthful.” And I walked out.