Since Christmas Eve is a perfectly reasonable time to wear a tin foil hat in Walmart, I drove on over to the jam-packed parking lot. It was obviously two-for-one nutty fruitcake day, and many fruitcakes were driving the motorized shopping carts.
The competent kid with the Bloom County Steve Dallas hairstyle was at the desk wearing his blue Walmart vest covered in pins and buttons in protest of his soul-sucking job dealing with germy nutsos. When I told him the outgoing Rx notification voice message was goofed up he just shrugged me off. No doubt he'd waited on several dozen deranged old ladies by then, and it wasn't even one-thirty.
Wandering past the pharmacy again on my way to check out, there was Brenda at the drop-off prescription window. Brenda has been there forever, since at least 2010 which is very long in Walmart years. She remains sane and helpful because she used to manage a day care. This is a walk in the park by comparison, she's said. When I told Brenda my story of the Libby's nose message, she was polite, intrigued, and in good humor. She was apologetic, and listened several times to the short voice mail on my phone that I hear as:
...nose not getting Libby.
So nice to be taken seriously! I wished her a merry Christmas, and she assured me she would get the message fixed.
Back home without my foil hat, I listened to the message again. It doesn't mention noses or Libby, nor my prescription being ready. It's a fragment, to be sure, but it says:
... ñol, marque nueve.
Ah. "For Spanish, press nine."
© 2013-2016 Nancy L. Ruder