First, I have to explain where I work. My base store is in a place stuck between a middle class and lower middle class area and is immigrant heavy. Some people can’t afford cars and some people go to their Arizona home when winter is too cold. About half my customers don’t speak fluent English, with a majority of them from Poland or Arabic-speaking countries. I also help out at other stores in a variety of places with varying income levels and beliefs. For the most part, the customers at my base store are kind, and I probably only get two or three wild interactions per shift, give or take (I’m mildly convinced full moons do have some effect on the general public).

I myself am a licensed and certified pharmacy technician in the state of Illinois, having worked there since the ripe old age of 16. Although it’s not particularly impressive given that some techs have been working 30+ years, I still think I’ve experienced enough in that time to see that the current chaos is not the norm. My mother and many of my relatives are pharmacists, so I also get a lot of other more educated and experienced perspectives on the daily. Now you know a little about me. Onward and upward.

When the pharmacy chain I work for started receiving the vaccinations, none of the stores I typically worked at carried them yet. My first exposure to it was actually when I got the first dose at a “pharmacy employees and other 1a healthcare workers only” clinic. The lines were huge, regular customers who were not eligible were complaining, and even a team of student interns could not keep up with the crowds. I ended up speaking with someone from HR who was helping input, and she said that although they were doing appointments, walk-in’s were also allowed. Word of mouth spread this information and more and more people were coming to see if they could get in on the action. Mental note made that HR wasn’t going to let this happen again, and they didn’t; future shots became appointment only.

Shortly after, my base store received the vaccine. On the website, there was a portal that healthcare workers could use to register, but someone started sharing the link in a way that allowed anyone to register. I was working when this started, and we began receiving calls from non-1a folk asking to confirm their appointment. After our initial confusion, we realized there was an error and explained that they would need to cancel their appointments. We were met with extreme anger– yelling, swearing, you name it. The rest of the shift, followed by the next few weeks, meant dealing with the crass behavior of these patients. Here’s the thing, though. If an appointment was cancelled, the spot would reopen and we’d have but another person to explain this to. If we didn’t cancel the appointments, healthcare workers who wanted to register would see all the spots as full. But remember how I said that most of my patients are usually pretty kind? Well, most of the people registering were from over an hour away driving. They would show up to their appointments anyways, aware they were not healthcare workers and could not receive the vaccine, and scream about how we are disgusting, gatekeeping less-than-humans. They would go through the full five stages of grief, denying that they knew ahead, angry that they drove all that way for nothing, bargaining that they had a great reason to get the vaccine, depressed that this meant they were clearly going to die that night (and it’d be all my fault), then finally accepting (angrily) that they were going to have to go back home. Again, we called and talked to all these people, they were aware. The pharmacy staff became emotional punching bags just because we were following the governor’s and company’s orders; proof of being a healthcare worker was needed to get the vaccine. You don’t have it, you don’t get it.

Oh, and to make matters worse, when there were leftover doses, sometimes someone in the store would recieve it as not to let it go to waste. This led to nightly calls asking whether we had doses available. “But my friend got it last night! You’re f*cking lying to me!!!” I can’t hold it against them for asking, but I can for their attitude when we said no. Finally 1b opened up. This allowed essential workers and anyone 65+ to receive the vaccine. Things settled a bit, but still, those who did not fit into that group voiced their complaints just as the non-1a’s did prior. “I’m 63 and a half and I’ve beat cancer three times! I need the vaccine more than someone 65!” As much as you want to feel for those that tell you this, everyone has a reason why they’re more special than the next, and well, nobody was willing to risk their licenses to play god. Call the governor if you have a problem, they don’t pay me minimum wage to make these decisions.

Another issue I have is the distribution of the vaccines. I have no solid proof, so disclaimer that these are all just things I noticed in general, but stores in areas with higher populations of African Americans or other minorities and low income areas tended to get the vaccine in stock significantly later than their whiter, richer counterparts. Even large scale clinics tended to be in said rich, white areas. For a variety of reasons, both socio-economically and physiologically, COVID tends to hit the previously mentioned groups harder. If anything, shouldn’t the more affected areas be given shots first? When the shots did come to those stores, we noticed most of the patients receiving them were not usual patients and instead from towns far away. This again frustrated me. For many people there, they don’t have access to the same resources to allow them to travel that far for a shot. They may not have a car, they may have to work and can’t afford to take off, or they may not have the same access to technology to register for the vaccine. I believe I read that wealthier places in Florida had special access to the vaccine, so it really wouldn’t surprise me if the same thing was happening in the Chicagoland area. People will argue that social privilege does not exist. When I see things like this, I must disagree and point it out. Maybe you’ll think I’ve lost it. That’s fine, but at least keep in mind that not everything that happens is pure coincidence…

Another impact of the COVID vaccine is that technician vaccination certification (wow, too many “-uns” in that phrase) programs were expedited. In February, I completed all necessary training and can now give vaccines. At store-level, this is helpful when you only have one pharmacist per shift. This way, workflow doesn’t get halted when shots are needed. At clinic-level, we are indispensable. To my personal frustration, we are paid pretty poorly, but this does mean that more people are able to give the vaccine if needed. Yes, pharmacy is a pretty over-saturated field, but in times of COVID, it can be hard to pluck pharmacists away from stores and hospitals for said clinics, and there are simply not enough student interns to make up for it. I do get some personal benefit from it too, so I should mention that. I believe I will start to earn a slight bit more now that I’m certified (*insert a very salty “thank you” here*), and if I chose to apply to medicine-related graduate programs, the more hands-on clinical experience is definitely useful. I will say that clinics are a bit taxing, though. On the 11th I worked one in Addison and gave a total of 269 shots! My hands were bruised from the gloves, my throat raspy from repeating the same thing hundreds of times, and my introverted mind numb from so much interaction. Not to mention, we put ourselves at risk for each person we see. Giving shots sounds very easy, and while I do enjoy it, it is yet another physical and emotional drain in an already taxing time for me.

I joke too often that the pharmacy staff will need pharmacy-specialized therapists to deal with whatever damage this is doing to our psyches, but there is some truth in that. In the past year, I have witnessed multiple coworkers break down on shift from either the stress or patient interaction. I’m lucky to be pretty good at staying cool-headed at work, but I noticed that when I get home, I mentally crumble a bit. I’m already trying to recover from a deep burnout, so shifts like those take me one step backwards each time. Simply put, times are rough– we are isolated, our happy places closed, our loved ones sick. I think every person could easily compose a little article like this, but in the meantime, be kind to your pharmacy staff. We could all use a little patience now. I promise they’ll appreciate it more than you know.

Happy reading,
-Beppa