I spent much of Tuesday evening waiting, waiting and waiting for a prescription renewal at my local CVS Pharmacy. It took them close to 35 minutes to figure out how to bill my secondary insurance, thereby saving me about $20. If I'd known at the outset it would take that long, I'd have eaten the twenty bucks and split…but I always thought it would just be two more minutes.
One reason my matter took so long is that the staff of six was made up of one actual pharmacist and five assistants who, if they put their five heads together, couldn't have told you how often to take a One-a-Day Multiple Vitamin. The pharmacist was the only guy who knew anything — or had the power to do anything — and he was so busy straightening out problems that he wasn't filling prescriptions, adding to the backup.
The biggest crisis during my time there involved a rather attractive blonde lady who was two days from running out of Wellbutrin, which I gather is a powerful antidepressant. She had a prescription for another batch and she had insurance to cover most of the cost of the drug…but due to a clerical error by the CVS folks, a form for "prior authorization" was not filed. If it had been, the price would have been around $40. Since it wasn't, the price was around $300, which she does not have and would resent paying if she did.
One of those assistants told her she should either pay the $300 or come back in however many days it will take for the prior authorization to be filled out by her doctor (who's on vacation) and then processed by her insurance firm. Raising her voice enough to be heard throughout the store — and probably at a nearby Walgreens — she yelled, "Don't you understand? I run out of pills in two days and I can't afford to pay three hundred dollars!"
The assistant told her to calm down. She replied, "The Wellbutrin is to calm me down. If you think I'm upset now, wait'll I come back here in three days!" And then suddenly, she was like Bill Bixby playing The Hulk: "You won't like me when I don't have my Wellbutrin!"
That finally caused the pharmacist to step in and referee. This meant going through the whole story again, with the lady getting so agitated that he finally handed her a small bottle of Wellbutrin — a "loan" against the quantity she'll eventually receive. He also promised to personally expedite the authorization. It all kept a lot of people, myself included, waiting for an awfully long time.
The pharmacist seemed like a smart, decent guy and when he finally got around to my problem, he solved it in under two minutes. I couldn't resist asking him what percentage of his time there he spent actually filling prescriptions and what percentage was consumed by bureaucratic business like dealing with insurance screw-ups. He said, "10% prescriptions, 80% insurance, 10% other paperwork." If I'd gone to school and studied all sorts of potions and pills and however much medicine you need to know to fill prescriptions, I think I'd resent spending my days on the phone to Blue Shield. And I'd be real afraid of that lady who was almost out of Wellbutrin.