Page 8 of Strictly Against Policy

If I were going to be known as an asshole manager who couldn’t put aside personal feelings in the workplace, then so be it. I wasn’t going to apologize to her.

Fuck no.

CHAPTER 5

Lina

It was my seventh business day here at Sierra Pharmacy.

I let out a sigh of relief as soon as I hung up the phone with a provider. I looked at the computer screen, rereading the prescription they had sent over. Lovenox, 120 milligrams per 0.8 milliliter, quantity of 60. Inject 120 milligrams twice daily.

This was a prescription for a pregnant patient with venous thromboembolism; she weighed 130 pounds. The normal dosing for Lovenox for deep vein thrombosis was 1 milligram per kilogram twice daily, so a prescription this high alarmed me, especially since it was for someone pregnant. I had to call the patient’s provider about what looked like a mistake.

Thankfully, they were nice about it, and the dosage was an honest mistake. Instead of converting the patient’s weight into kilograms and using that number for the dosage, their provider had used the imperial system. The correct dosage should be 60 milligrams twice daily instead of 120 milligrams.

Mistakes like this happened all the time, which was why a pharmacist reviewed and verified everything. We did a lot before giving a patient their medication. We checked medical histories to ensure there were no drug interactions between new prescriptions and any current medications. On top of that, we also dealt with insurance companies about prior authorizations. Then we did it all again and again, like clockwork, day after day.

I quickly corrected the prescription on the screen, verifying it as the voice of a patient shrieked from the pickup window.

“I’m not paying for that!” It was the firm voice of an older gentleman. “With my insurance, I should be paying nothing for my prescription! Why am I being charged ten bucks?”

It wasn’t even noon yet, and this was already the sixth explanation I’d heard Carmen give about why patients had co-pays for their medication now that it was a new year. Most patients didn’t understand that their health insurance deductibles reset as soon as January arrived.

Some patients got so frustrated that they threatened to change pharmacies over the co-pay. Others paid without a blink of an eye, but most would say something along the lines of the following:

“Do you even know what you’re doing? Did you even run my prescription through my insurance?” The patient’s voice rose in a quick, furious crescendo.

The insinuation that Carmen didn’t know what she was doing irritated me. Of course, she did. I was about to walk up when Jonathan intervened and took over without hesitation.

“We understand, sir,” he said in a friendly, sympathetic voice. His presence and the sight of his white coat diffused the situation at once. With just three words, I could see the patient calm down. “But it’s the beginning of the year, and you have what’s called a deductible. The $10 co-pay is only until that amount is met, and then your insurance starts paying again.”

The patient paused, taking in the information slowly. I could practically hear Jonathan’s smile stretching wider as the rigid lines on the man’s face relaxed. The patient nodded, mumbling something as he pulled out his wallet. My manager’s kind voice fluttered through the air when he responded.

That was the thing with Jonathan Lo. He always had a way with people. He was good at disarming them, making them feel heard and understood. I think that was why he was always so well-liked. That was also why he had an entire entourage following him around when we were younger. I suppose that same sunny energy never burned out as an adult, or even in this career.

I turned back to the computer screen, looking at a new prescription. I sighed and picked up the phone, dreading the call to the insurance company.

As I punched in the number, I saw Jonathan walking back to his computer station out of the corner of my eyes. Today was merely my second Tuesday here, but it seemed he was set on making our work life as miserable as possible. His face soured the moment his gaze landed on me. I turned to glance at him, but he looked away, acting as if he hadn’t been glaring into my temple. Instead, his pointed gaze turned to the wall ahead.

Heated anger rolled off him as he walked past me with his pursed snarl and dark, furious eyes. I almost shrugged, but I was certain it would only vex him. So, I just turned back to the phone and did my job to the best of my abilities.

As Jonathan stood at his station next to mine, I could feel his emotions seething underneath his skin. I could almost see steam rising from his body with the long and frustrated exhale he released.

Sweat dripped down the hollow of my spine. It was only Day Seven on the job, but the tension and unwarranted animosity Jonathan had toward me had been building with each passing day. I was riddled with anxiety because I could be terminated any day, or any moment—all because of some petty feelings from high school, like we were still children.

Jonathan needed to understand that I wasn’t here to be his friend, or to prove to him we could get along with one another. I was here to work, to get a paycheck—and I was going to do one hell of a job whether he wanted me here or not.

If he didn’t, I hoped there would be some form of severance pay, at least.

By mid-afternoon, I could feel my energy draining. As a treat for Grace, Sheryl, and Carmen—who have been tirelessly explaining the concept of deductibles to patients—I offered to order coffee for the team.

Each pharmacy technician was eager, selecting their drinks on the application on my phone and thanking me sweetly. Yet, one person merely stared at me. Jonathan.

“Would you like to order something as well, Dr. Lo?” I asked, handing him my phone.

He stared at it as if it were contaminated with a biosafety level four virus. The screen was lightly smudged from the previous three people who had used it. I had almost offered to clean it when he all but yanked my phone from my hand.

All the technicians’ eyes were on us as he scrolled through the options quickly and selected something. He sighed long and hard before handing my phone back, although gentler this time. I stepped away from him as fast as possible to avoid any more proximity to him.