Brushing up on Ritalin

Joey the Sheister called this morning and offered me a job as a pharmacist.  Under-the-table salary, no health insurance and a 10% profit sharing down the proverbial road.  I'm starting in two days.  Just in time to slow the bleeding of my sorely beleagered checking account.   Is it possible I can now actually consider buying a dress for my friend Barbara's son's Bar Mitzvah?  I was dreading that black woolen pencil skirt in total need of shortening which I just knew was never going to happen.  The clouds have lifted, halleluyah. I mean, thank you hashem.

It's a brand new pharmacy.  An easy thirty minute commute each way.  I picture a sparkling clean store with a beautifully tiled bathroom, a shiny new computer, and finally, a radio where I can play my favorite jazz station, WBGO, or classical or anything I damn well please.  So different from Walgreens where the ants marched single file around the toilet and you had to step over a dirty industrial mop to sit down, where the soundtrack of heart pounding top 40 hits played in a never ending mind-numbing reel.

I will be the only pharmacist there, god help me.  It's been a good 3 months since I last handed someone Ritalin or a statin drug and things are really beginning to get a bit foggy in the brain.  I figure I'll review my pages of notes from my last job and just keep my mouth shut about what I know or don't know.  Oh, and I'll iron my dyed, frizzy hair.

I answered the sheister's ad way back when on Craigslist and pursued my usual mode of follow up--hounding the poor guy.  I guess it worked because he called this bright Saturday morning sounding kind of desperate, saying he needs me to start Tuesday.  "I guess there's no chance you starting today?" I did ponder it, but just let it pass.

Not to get ahead of myself here, but I can't help thinking maybe I can now consider having an open bar at Ben's Bar Mitzvah luncheon.  I really would love for a waiter in a crisp white shirt and tie to hand me a ginger margarita with kosher salt, then one for my sister Beth, then my friends as we look at each other lovingly, give a sigh of relief and drink up.  Hey Rona, drink up, you too Sally, drinks are on the house, but of course.  I love you all.  I'm happy.  Ben did great didn't he?