Stay Classy, CVS

There’s something about the American drive-thru, be it for coffee, food, or drugs, that just strips the average person of any class.

As some of you may know, my bedroom window overlooks the CVS drive-thru. If you’re ever given the option of having your bedroom overlook a CVS drive-thru or a gun range, pick the gun range.

People waiting for their prescriptions usually have the emotional fortitude of Kurt Cobain, so I normally keep the fan, TV, and a dozen other items running simultaneously to drown out the noise. It was somewhat cold today so I turned the fan off.

The following is a dramatization of my daily battle with the shoppers of CVS.

CVS: “Hi, can I help you?”
Lady: “Yes, I’m here to pick up my order…”

I turn away from the window (like that really has any impact) and try to fall asleep. A few minutes pass, and I almost make it into my morning coma.

Lady: [Car honk]: “Hello?!”
CVS: “Yes, I’m sorry the order isn’t ready yet.”

The exchange continues but I try to tune it out. She’s obviously waiting for Xanax and is unhappy. They’re also playing Josh Groban, which drowns out some of the noise. The point is, my apathy level is off the charts. Once again, I try to get Mr. Sandman’s attention.

Josh Groban: “You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains,”
Lady: “Well, when will it be ready?”
Josh Groban: “You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas,”
CVS: “If you can pull around to the end of the line we should have it ready in 10 minutes.”
Lady: “I’m not moving. You said it would be ready an hour ago.”

I glance at the clock. I toy with the idea of opening the window and shouting that it’s only been 45 minutes.

Josh Groban: “But when you come and I am filled with wonder,”
Lady: “Maybe if you started counting pills instead of arguing with me? Is there a manager I can speak to?”

It occurs to me that I could never work there. I would have dropped a ball gag in a prescription bag and sent it out to her with a really ugly hand-written note.

The car behind the unhappy customer has the audacity to honk. Another car, in an adjacent lane, also honks.

Josh Groban: “You raise me up… To more than I can be.”
Lady: [Inaudible]

I’m not quite able to make out what she screams next—the sound is muffled by the vacuum of the prescription tube. If you listen real carefully, you can also hear the property value of our neighborhood dropping.

Josh Groban turns into Celine Dion as she drives away. They’re either trying to spike sales in anti-depressants or they enjoy seeing customers sobbing in the aisles.

I get up and turn the fan back on to drown out the noise. It’s really not that cold after all.

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