Dear QFC Pharmacist
You don’t know me; I am but a mere office worker bee. I do not get the privilege of lording the blue short-sleeved smock over others as you do. So, it is with great humbleness that I ask you, “Why, QFC pharmacist, did you fuck me over?”
It was really through no fault of my own that I ended up groveling at your window. You see, my boyfriend has sort of a small penis. So, it really is much more of his penis’ fault that the wretched condom disappeared. You see, I was doing next to nothing, not even enjoying myself really, when the incident occurred.
Upon withdrawal we discovered, much to my horror, that the condom was not where it once was. As a matter of fact, despite a very thorough search and excavation mission, it was nowhere to be found. Now, I’m sure if you weren’t so troll like with a thick moustache and a bad demeanor someone would have deigned to fuck you at some point in you life and you might have been able to identify with my feelings of panic and nervousness. But, alas, I’m sure the closest you’ve ever come to a dick is the kid who works the register…. but I digress.
So, realizing that I was exactly 10 days beyond the first day of my last period I made a beeline for you, dear QFC pharmacist. Imagine my relief when I spotted the sign to the left of your window urging me to ask you about emergency contraception. To be honest, most ladies really don’t want to ask about it, they just want to buy it and get the hell on with their uterine cleansing. But, if the sign says ask, I’ll gladly ask.
Now, I know you don’t know too much about my life so I’m gonna fill you in. As I stated earlier, I’m but a mere office worker bee. That means I work 8:30-5:00 M-F. Your hours are 9:00-6:00. This means I have exactly one hour to drive to your office, wait in line, and gobble my EMERGENCY Contraception. Emphasis on Emergency.
So, I take my place in line behind the obese diabetes patient who was a perfect candidate for foot amputation, the old lady who took longer to reach the counter than it took you to fill her prescription (!) and the woman with the snotty, disease spreading spawn of Satan. And I waited. I waited patiently. At 5:53 I got my space at the counter and asked you, Dear QFC Pharmacist, about EMERGENCY Contraception only to have you tell me your license was expired and you were unable to dispense it.
WTF??? I wasted almost an hour in your goddamn line and you can’t even live up to your signage? You suck beyond all belief. I guess they didn’t require you to take any English classes in your drug school. I guess you didn’t realize the significance of the word EMERGENCY, you stupid, lazy bitch. It implies urgency, something that needs tending to right the fuck away. I swear if that seed sticks, you’ll have a squalling, shit producing leech on your fucking counter right around Christmas time. I have bigger plans for my uterus than having it occupied by the small dicked dude’s offspring. I want my uterus vacant for the time being, thank you very much!
So, FUCK YOU, DEAR QFC PHARMACIST and take your goddamn sign down so you don’t keep on spreading false hope!!!