Pharmacy Life - Michelle's Story

As we all go about our lives we bump into people (a phrase not perhaps absolutely accurate in the days of lockdown) wherever we go. It’s inevitable. We live in a society that needs to communicate, directly or indirectly, to survive. We don’t know anything about the vast majority of these individuals, yet statistically they aren’t all as wonderful as we would hope to think they are. Just look at the stories on TV, in newspapers or described in more lurid detail in social media posts each day.

Everyone is entitled to keep their private life, well, private but how much of a person’s past should be revealed to the world at large if the person in question is trying making efforts to put a dark past behind them? And should society be allowed to judge someone now for errors, mistakes or misguided behaviour in the past? Consider Michelle, for instance. A long time before the words ‘coronavirus’ and ‘pandemic’ entered common parlance, and the daily briefing related to a Sky Sports feature, Michelle got a part-time job at the local pharmacy. It was just three days each week, but it was perfect.

Getting it killed several birds with one stone. The money was acceptable, not brilliant, but it made things easier at home where money was tight. It got her out of the house, somewhere she hated being in by herself because she was recently unemployed and becoming stir crazy; it gave her back some independence; she was able to talk to people about other things than money and a future (hello Mum); and it improved her flagging self-confidence. Michelle believed she could make a difference.

Her new employer was very happy with the arrangement too. It was clear to the Pharmacy Manager she was a very good communicator, particularly with the older generation who seemed to represent more than half the daily customer footfall, and she quickly became proficient with both the technology and the routine. Within weeks, she was the person everyone wanted to be served by, because she was so efficient and friendly. Most of all though, she almost instinctively knew what customers wanted - it cut down so much faffing about and speeded up the serving process no end. Other employees in the rear of the pharmacy were able to get their own jobs done without being interrupted with requests for assistance. It made them very happy too.

On the days when Michelle wasn’t working at the pharmacy it was clear to see the difference. Carly, who did the same job as Michelle for the other two days of the week, Saturday mornings being alternated between them, tried her best but simply wasn’t as good. Even she knew it. Carly suffered from acute perception, something that inevitably became evident to her when she appeared at the service counter and saw the looks in the faces of customers who realised they were not going to be served by Michelle.

There was no animosity between them, if for no other reason than they rarely saw each other. In any event, neither woman was the type to kick up a fuss. This suited the Pharmacy Manager as it made his life so much easier, but in his heart of hearts he wondered if it would ever be possible to get Michelle to work there full-time, preferably instead of Carly.

His dream was almost made real in early 2019, when Carly announced she was pregnant. It was her intention to work up to as near to the due date as possible, but a combination of high blood pressure and having to stand up all day at work eventually persuaded Carly’s doctor to recommend she step back sooner rather than later. The Pharmacy Manager was secretly elated at the news, but then immediately agitated when Michelle told him that personal circumstances meant she was unable to increase her current working hours. She gave no other explanation.

Time passed. Carly’s replacement proved to be better than Carly, but nowhere near as good as Michelle. The Pharmacy Manager was frustrated, but every attempt he made to find out a little bit about Michelle’s personal circumstances was politely but firmly slapped down by her. Work was work; but Michelle’s private life was out of most definitely out of bounds.

It’s not that Michelle was becoming a difficult employee; far from it. The other staff all loved her as much as the regular customers. She was fun to work with and generous too, bringing in cakes on birthdays and biscuits for no obvious reason. But when the pharmacy closed in the evening, Michelle was straight out of the door and off home. She never hung around for a drink after work, and avoided any Christmas parties organised by her employer.

Speculation about Michelle’s out of work-hours life was rife within the pharmacy. The backroom employees had worked together for several years and, to them, work was more like visiting the family (but without the arguments). Over occasional post-work drinks they put forward a variety of explanations about Michelle’s non-pharmacy life. Indeed, there was a pot with £115 in it locked away in a drawer in the backroom, ready to be presented to the person who correctly explained the reason for her social absences.

Each member of staff was allowed to make as many suggestions as they wanted, but it cost a fiver for each. So far, there had been 23 guesses. No-one knew if their explanation was correct. Their individual efforts to establish the truth fell on the same stony ground as those of the Pharmacy Manager who, in desperation to try to solve what was becoming a very personal mystery, had taken to re-reading Michelle’s initial letter of application and CV to try to identify something to explain it all. It hadn’t really helped. All he had found out was that she was married to someone called Daniel, who was a plumber.

However, as a consequence of this re-reading the Pharmacy Manager did discover Michelle was approaching a significant birthday, a fact he shared with the rest of the employees at a routine staff meeting held on a day Michelle didn’t work. He asked everyone in attendance their views on doing something to celebrate this event, conscious that Michelle was the complete opposite of a party animal. It was unanimously agreed some kind of bunscuffle at the pharmacy should be organised, with the option of drinks in local hostelries to follow according to how the party progressed. In plain language, they would surprise Michelle at the pharmacy and try to persuade her to join them after work at their usual watering hole.

They had plenty of time to make the necessary arrangements, but then the lockdown was imposed and the world changed for everyone. Plans for Michelle’s birthday, which was in early June, were put on hold as the pharmacy scrambled around making their premises social distancing friendly, whilst stocking up on appropriate PPE. If anything, the place became busier, and with it the capability so obvious to all that was possessed by Michelle came to the fore.

Customers were rightly worried. Michelle offered them calm reassurance that things would be OK. The news reports gave conflicting information. Michelle proved more than capable of disseminating the information so it made sense to everyone. She enforced social distancing requirements in front of the counter in a friendly but decisive way, despite wearing a mask that restricted the loudness of her voice. Young kids behaved themselves when with their parents in the pharmacy. When she wasn’t working, the place was mayhem in comparison. The only days when all the backroom staff felt happy in their work now was when Michelle was in charge.

Carly’s replacement was married to Lee, a worrier by nature who believed the only way to avoid catching Covid-19 was to completely avoid contact with the outside world. It turned out he was wrong, but that’s a story for another day. He expressly forbade his wife to continue working after lockdown, even though pharmacies were exempt from the restrictions imposed by the government and, compared to other exempted occupations, theoretically at least somewhat safer. She was daft enough to agree with him. When she told the Pharmacy Manager, he reluctantly accepted her decision. Privately, he wondered if Lee was a Daily Mail reader.

Whatever the truth of the matter, the pharmacy continued with Michelle working her Monday, Wednesday and Fridays, plus alternate Saturdays. Members of the backroom staff filled-in at other times. Even the Pharmacy Manager helped out on occasion. When Michelle wasn’t at work, the order that she was able to impose effortlessly simply evaporated. By the end of the day, all the staff were exhausted due to a combination of frustration, argumentative customers, the extra work caused by the pandemic and the realisation it was all going to repeat in two days’ time. After one particularly stressful day, the staff collared the Pharmacy Manager and requested a meeting so they could air their grievances.

The request wasn’t unexpected – the Pharmacy Manager wasn’t an idiot and had experienced the chaos of life without Michelle at first hand. However, he felt the firmness of Michelle’s refusal to extend her hours when he offered her the opportunity before would make repeating it now a waste of time and effort. He said as much to the staff after the pharmacy closed, but promised to try again anyway.

It had to be better than advertising for a replacement. The successful applicant would need to be interviewed and trained up before being allowed to become familiar the set-up and eventually becoming useful. Time just wasn’t available for him to do this at the moment. With this in mind, he decided to approach Michelle the next day. As it happened, before he could do this two things occurred with Michelle that worked in his favour.

As normal, there was a queue outside the pharmacy before it opened on Friday morning. Michelle had a good memory for faces and names, and happily acknowledged several of the people in the queue through her mask as she arrived for work. They were delighted she was working today. It was 08.15 and the pharmacy was due to open at 08.30. Once inside the pharmacy, she took off her coat and replaced it with the corporate laboratory assistant jacket with name-tag she wore every day. It was her uniform and she was proud to wear it.

The rest of the staff were also happy to see Michelle, if only for personal reasons. Not being able to take out their frustrations after a difficult workday over a drink in the local pub, due to lockdown restrictions, meant they were still a bit raw the next morning. Michelle’s presence would allow them the opportunity to get back to their proper jobs without interruption. Their blood pressure and stress levels would remain manageable as well. They knew the Pharmacy Manager planned to speak to her about the vacancy at some point in the day, and were mentally crossing their fingers things would work out satisfactorily.

Michelle’s day had started well. Even though the world had gone mad in her opinion, some parts of it continued to function normally. For example, the post still arrived before she left for work, and today she’d received a letter she’d been longing to receive for ages. She was in a great mood in consequence, as the people in the queue outside the pharmacy would attest. This was the first incident to inadvertently assist the Pharmacy Manager.

In her pigeon-hole at work was a request from her boss for a meeting to discuss ‘an urgent situation’ as he described it. As she wasn’t scheduled to work again until Monday, he wondered if it would be possible to hold the meeting at some point that day. He was flexible and she was supremely organised. Could she let him know what time would suit best? Quite coincidentally, Michelle had a few ideas for improving life for everyone at the pharmacy, but whether or not they fell within the orbit of his mysteriously vague phrase was impossible to tell. She would suggest 13.30, a time she knew was a quieter period at work. Hopefully, she’d find out then.

The morning passed quickly. Michelle’s quiet industry kept the pharmacy ticking over like a well-oiled machine. The early queue had been quickly and efficiently dealt with. Customers came and customers went. All were happy with the service they received that morning. It was a problem from the previous day that unexpectedly came to light, however, and this resulted in the second incident to inadvertently assist the Pharmacy Manager.

Michelle brought sandwiches to work each day. Her lunch-breaks were initially flexible but had, over time, become relatively fixed at 11.45 for half an hour. It fitted in with someone from the backroom being available to deputise. If the weather was nice, she’d sit by herself in the park or eat whilst walking slowly along the canal towpath. On this particular day the weather was a bit threatening but so far warm and windy, an improvement on the rain of the previous few days. Michelle decided to go to the park. It was nearer to the pharmacy in case the rain started. She felt relieved to be able to remove the face-mask and breathe in fresh air.

She was still elated about the letter she’d received that morning. At long last the tide seemed to be turning for her after years of struggle. It was a marvellous feeling. Unexpectedly, her thoughts were interrupted by a voice from the park seat opposite her.

“You work at the pharmacy over there don’t you?” stated a female voice, pointing with one of her arms towards a building in the near distance. “Sorry to interrupt you whilst you’re having your lunch,” the voice continued, apologetically.

Today was a good day, and Michelle had time for everyone. “Yes, I do,” she replied. “And no, you’re not interrupting me. Can I help you with anything?”

“I’m not sure,” replied the voice, which it turned out belonged to a well-dressed lady Michelle did not recognise. “I had to queue yesterday for a prescription. It took ages and I got wet because it rained.”

“Sorry to hear this,” said Michelle earnestly. “The pharmacy does what it can with the social distancing measures, but at peak times it’s simply impossible to ensure every customer remains protected from the elements whilst queuing. There just isn’t enough space to do this.” It was something she’s said several times before and when she said it people genuinely believed her.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” said the voice. “I fully accept these are bizarre times and what will be will be. At least, that’s how I look at it. No, it’s just that I was talking to my neighbour over the garden fence last night. I was telling her about the pharmacy visit and she said it was strange, but whenever you were working there were never any long queues. She suggested you have an almost magical ability to control potentially difficult situations. You are the Michelle she was talking about, aren’t you?” The lady pointed at the name-tag.

Michelle coloured a little in embarrassment. “I try my best, but I’m not Superwoman!” she exclaimed. “I just do what I can. There are no special tricks or procedures involved. I want to be as efficient as possible to help all the customers.”

“Well,” the voice responded, “from what I hear there’s no-one better. You should be proud of yourself. Keep up the good work. I intend to make sure that whenever I need a prescription in future I visit the pharmacy on one of the days you are working.”

With that, the lady stood up and, after saying goodbye, walked off in the direction of the high street. Michelle was slightly perplexed. She’d never received compliments like this before, and she’d been working off and on for the last 25 or so years in a variety of jobs, many customer-facing. Overall, the unexpected conversation simply added to the good day she was having. She returned to the pharmacy in an even better mood than before.

A small queue had formed outside the pharmacy during Michelle’s lunch-break. To the joy of customers and her temporary replacement alike, she was able to get things back under control quite quickly. By 13.25, normal service had not only been resumed, but Michelle had found time to write down a few bullet-points to reinforce some of the ideas she had for improving the whole pharmacy / customer relationship at the branch.

All the backroom staff knew when the meeting was to take place. They were falling over themselves to offer to stand-in for Michelle at the appointed time. The Pharmacy Manager had spent most of the morning preparing his pitch. It’s ridiculous, he thought. She’s one of the lower paid employees here, yet without her we can’t manage. This can’t be right.

Michelle entered the Pharmacy Manager’s office at precisely 13.30. She was a stickler for timekeeping (she’d never arrived late for work at the pharmacy since starting there). Her boss looked nervous in her opinion, but she dismissed the thought immediately as she sat down on a chair on the opposite side of a large desk from him. The gap between them was easily two metres. Anyway, it’s difficult to judge emotions when you are both wearing face-masks.

“Hi Michelle, I’m glad you managed to find the time for this one-to-one so quickly. Can I get you a drink?” He pointed over to his ground coffee percolator, steaming away gently in the corner of the office. The smell was fantastic, but history records the quality of the drinks to be average at best.

“I’m fine thanks,” said Michelle. “What do you mean about an urgent situation?” She was brisk and straight to the point, but not aggressively so. It was a methodology she used with pharmacy customers to great effect.

The Pharmacy Manager inhaled deeply before replying, and the significance of this wasn’t wasted on Michelle. She had read a book on behavioural psychology whilst unemployed. It had left quite an impression. “I think it’s fair to say you’ve been a breath of fresh air since you started working here. Everyone, from staff to customers, likes you. The job you do is fantastic. When you aren’t here, the difference is immediately noticeable.”

He continued, slightly more confident now he’d got the first couple of sentences from a speech he’d been rehearsing all morning out of the way without messing them up. “I have no intention of beating about the bush,” he said, beating about the bush. “I need you to reconsider my offer of a full-time position here. Before you answer, I would also be prepared to increase your hourly rate by £2 per hour and allow you an extra three days holiday each year. What do you say?”

“I accept,” replied Michelle immediately. It seemed hardly possible. Her day was getting even better.

The Pharmacy Manager nearly fell off his seat in surprise. “Can I ask why you’ve had a change of mind? When we talked about this last year you were adamant three days per week was sufficient. I believe you rejected my offer due to personal circumstances, if memory serves. Have things changed?”

In truth, the Pharmacy Manager was rambling now. He didn’t really want an explanation to justify Michelle’s wonderful, if unexpected, decision but he felt he needed to keep the conversation going to ensure she didn’t change her mind again. The thought sent shivers down his back. The prospect of dealing with Mrs Chivers again at the counter, after what had happened yesterday, filled him with dread.

Michelle thought for a moment. What the hell, I’m on a roll now so let’s go with it. They apparently can’t live without me, so what’s the worst that can happen? She decided it was time to fill in the gaps in her CV and try to help one of the backroom staff win the £115 gathering dust in that locked drawer. Not that she knew this part of course. She began speaking.

“I’m an only child. My father left home when I was three. My mother brought me up by herself. It was hard for her, because she had to work long hours to support both of us and she had no family to assist her. It’s a classic story so far, isn’t it?” she asked of no-one in particular.

“To add to my mother’s problems, I was a sickly child. I’ve lost count of the times she had to phone for an ambulance or emergency doctor. There was never anything physically wrong with me. It turns out I was suffering from a form of anxiety that manifested itself in me becoming scared to leave my home to go to school; to talk to people; to go to sleep; to act how a normal girl of my age would act. Everything made me nervous. I wouldn’t eat. I was a recluse. Although I couldn’t help it, I was driving my mother mad.”

“She tried her best, and so did the specialists at the hospitals. By the age of twelve I was taking a variety of prescribed drugs to try to keep the anxiety at bay. They worked up to a point, but there were side-effects I am not prepared to discuss at the moment. Let’s just say they were spectacularly unpleasant. Anyway, the drugs allowed me to continue my education, but I was considered what they now call ‘special’. I was moved away from the few friends I had of my own age and placed in an establishment allegedly more suited to my needs. It wasn’t, and I hated it so much I did everything I could to avoid going there. This included playing truant.”

“With hindsight, my life between the ages of twelve and fifteen went completely downhill. When I did go to school I mixed with other kids who were drinking, smoking and taking recreational drugs. When I bunked off I gravitated towards other kids doing the same as me. They stood out a mile. Soon, I was smoking pot, drinking and being anti-social with the rest of them. Strangely, my anxiety problems disappeared at this time.”

“My mother eventually lost it completely. She’d had enough of my obnoxious behaviour and gave me an ultimatum. Either I behaved or left home. I chose the latter because I really wasn’t bothered. I wouldn’t be sixteen for another two months, but I moved in with a crowd who were squatting at a disused hotel in the town centre. My education finished then. The drugs thing spiralled. I slept around and got pregnant. I have no idea who the father was but, fortunately as it turned out, a combination of not eating and a reaction to some of the drugs led to me collapsing and being rushed to hospital, where I miscarried.”

“The only good thing to come out of all this was my mother and I reunited. I moved back in with her and gave up all the bad stuff. I was eighteen. I had no qualifications. The economy was in a mess, so my employment prospects were minimal. I went to night school and did the courses I’d skived at school. In the day I worked as a cleaner to try to pay my way. I had no social life at all.”

“I passed the exams from the night school courses. They were easy. With the qualifications I was able to get a job on the till at the local supermarket. I was good at my job, but one day some of my old squatter mates spotted me and came over to say hello. Let’s just say there was a scene and I lost my job on the spot. I was so upset about this that I went up to Jono, the self-appointed leader of the group, and punched him square in the face. I knocked him out and broke my knuckle at the same time. The police were called and I was arrested for common assault.”

“So now I had a criminal record as well. I sat in my bedroom at home and cried. My mother took it well. I suspect in a way she was pleased I hadn’t gone off with the old group. After a few weeks, we sat down together to try to find a way to get out of the mess I was in. It was around that time that I began to suffer from the anxiety issues again. Thankfully, they were milder than before, but still upsetting. This led to another three months of me moping about, but this time I managed to recover without using prescription drugs. There was absolutely no way I wanted to go down that road again. I discovered that by focusing on positive things in my life I was able to control my moods better.”

“I enjoyed learning. When I recovered I applied to go on as many free courses as I could find to expand my knowledge. Some of them were rubbish, but others provided me with a lot of information that I remember and utilise today. There were qualifications too. Armed with these and a CV I’d subtly amended to fill in gaps in education and employment, I started to investigate the jobs market again.”

“In no time at all I found a job at the massive B & Q Superstore on the edge of town. I really liked that job. A lot of it was similar to here, but the people asking the questions weren’t normally so well dressed. I think I managed to make a difference. It’s how I met my husband, Danny. He was a regular there, picking up stuff for the plumbing company he worked for.  After living together for a bit, we got married ten years ago. We bought a small house on the new estate near the bypass. I’m still there now.”

At this point, the Pharmacy Manager felt it was time he said something. Much as he was enjoying Michelle’s life story, which was filling in more gaps than he had been expecting, he wanted her to know he was listening to everything she said carefully.

“I’m still there? Aren’t you with Danny anymore?”

 Michelle looked pained momentarily. “No. Danny and I split up a couple of years ago. It was a long time coming, but I think I knew it was inevitable it would happen. He wanted kids. So did I, but nothing happened. Eventually I had some tests done. The doctors discovered the issues surrounding my earlier drug use and miscarriage had left me infertile. I was OK with the news, but Danny was heartbroken. I think that’s what started the relationship breakdown. That and the drinking of course.”

“Just after we married the recession started. Danny’s business hit a wall and he lost his job. I was still at B & Q, but I was the only breadwinner. There was a large mortgage to pay each month.”

“But as a plumber, surely Danny was more able than most to find work?” interjected the Pharmacy Manager, who was beginning to enjoy himself.

“You would think so,” Michelle responded, “but he had no qualifications or a van to carry his tools in either. I’d go off to work whilst Danny stayed at home, scouring the papers and internet for job opportunities. At least, that’s how it was initially. He quickly became depressed and started drinking. Although I didn’t know it at the time, he drank away all the savings we had.”

“Things got worse. Danny became convinced I was cheating on him. I’ve no idea why, because it wasn’t true, but when I came home from work one evening in the Manager’s car he accused me of sleeping with him and attacked me when I told him he was talking rubbish. He fractured my eye-socket and broke three of my ribs. He was completely drunk at the time. After he fell asleep, I phoned my mother and cried down the phone to her. She was at my place in minutes. So were the police.”

“Danny was charged with assaulting me. I threw him out, with the help of my mother and her boyfriend, and have lived at the house by myself ever since. I left B & Q once it became apparent everyone knew what had happened. Danny still had friends who used the Superstore. They were particularly unpleasant, suggesting the broken bones were somehow my fault.”

“Since then, I’ve either been unemployed or working at the pharmacy. My mother has helped with the mortgage. I’ve not had enough money to socialise. I’m aware I’m sometimes the subject of speculation when I reject offers for drinks after work, but I simply can’t afford it.”

“Can I ask what the personal circumstances were that made you reject my offer of full-time employment before?” asked the Pharmacy Manager, intrigued.

“It was Danny,” replied Michelle. “The years of heavy drinking weren’t kind to him. He was diagnosed with cirrhosis of the liver last year, having been suffering for ages before that. He was on the list for a transplant, but it was obvious he wasn’t going to live long enough to benefit. When he told me everything he reckoned he’d got three, possibly four months to live. I offered to let him come back to the house to see out the rest of his days quietly. He accepted. I felt in the circumstances that leaving him alone every weekday wasn’t the right thing to do.”

“Mum thought I was mad, but I was insistent. In his poor health he wasn’t going to be able to hurt me again, even if he wanted to. Anyway, he’d given up drinking by then. The fact of the matter was I still cared deeply for him. We’d been through a lot of shit together. As it happens, I was also in need of some moral support. I’d been diagnosed with breast cancer. Fortunately, it was low grade, but I still needed radiotherapy. I was worried. Having Danny around, even in his bad state, allowed me to bounce my feelings off someone. It was therapy.”

“Danny died a month ago. I was able to be with him when he went, which meant a lot to both of us I think. I got a letter from the hospital this morning, confirming my cancer is in remission. Now you know everything. Are you sure you still want to employ me?”

The Pharmacy Manager didn’t know what to say. Michelle had been through more in her short lifetime than he’d experienced in his. More surprisingly, some of it had occurred whilst she was working at the pharmacy. He’d seen nothing in her demeanour to suggest she was experiencing any trauma, and suspected none of the other staff had seen anything either. Truly amazing.

“Most definitely” was all he said. Well, that and “can you start on Monday?”

At the weekend the Pharmacy Manager was reflecting on his conversation with Michelle. It was clear she was something special, perhaps not necessarily for all the right reasons, but she was going to make such a difference at work. Naturally, he would need to work on his CV assessment technique, although part of him felt he’d never have employed Michelle if she’d told the complete truth when she applied for the job initially. Anyway, the £115 in his back pocket was a nice, if unexpected, bonus. Happy days!