DETAILING DETAILS

There are many details to deal with when moving to a new environment. I spent my first week amazed at living with people of color surrounding me and feeling very comfortable. I go to the YMCA every morning for water workouts or water zumba and I am overwhelmed at the kindness shown to me by everyone.

I have met several people that I greet when I go and some that I have had extensive conversations with.

John approached me in the water workout class, welcoming me my first day and making sure I knew what the exercises were but encouraging me to work at my own pace. Wayne and I immediately hit it off, teasing each other kindly. Harriet, a retired nurse, talked with me for awhile sharing some of the struggles of her retirement and encouraging me to stay with the water fitness class to help strengthen my body. When she learned I was going to be a grandma for the first time, I swear her excitement may have even exceeded mine. Such good people, so many potential good friends!

Growing up in the 1960’s, I have not always been comfortable with people of color. Memories of riots, rumbles, and even “Christian” teachings that we should not be “unequally yoked” lie deep within me. I used to use that as an excuse for my racism, but as I grew to love others and life itself, I realized we are all the same. We ALL matter...at least that is where I have been until now. The “black lives matter” slogan did not make a lot of sense to me until this past week.

As part of the detail of moving, I had to have my prescriptions changed from the Paw, Paw, MI Walgreens pharmacy to a Baltimore Walgreen’s Pharmacy. I stopped by last week to talk to them in Baltimore with my medications in tow to ask them how to do that. The young lady copied down all of my medication information and said they would take care of it. She later called for the phone number of the Paw Paw Pharmacy which I gave to her. The next day I had a message on my phone that they needed me to call them. I decided instead to stop by on Sunday afternoon to see what I could do to help expediate the process.

“How can I help you?” the pharmacist on duty asked. I noticed her name tag said, “Blessing E.” I told her who I was and asked if my prescription was ready.

“Well,” she said, “we faxed your information to the Pharmacy and they transferred everything, but did not include some information that we need to complete the order. Do you have their number by any chance?”

“I gave it to someone on the phone last week,” I said.

“Well, here let me do this,” and she proceeded to look the number up and call it herself. She waded through all the electronic prompts with the phone on speaker so I could hear what was going on.

“This is Walgreen’s in Baltimore and we need some information for a patient,” she said in her soft black accent. CLICK.

Paw Paw hung up.

“Why did they hang up?” I asked, shocked that she had waited so long to no avail.

“I have no idea” she said as she redialed. I stood there while the same conversation was repeated and once again, CLICK.

“What is going on?” I asked. “We have gone to that Pharmacy for the last two years with no problem, why do they keep doing that?”

“I don’t think they want to talk to me,” she said. She noticed my cane. “Why don’t you go sit down and wait. I will call again.” she said.

“Thank you.” I said, moving toward a seat to relieve my left knee.

Once again she called and in the middle of the conversation said, ‘Please don’t hang up on me again!’

Twenty minutes and three phone calls later Blessing E. finally had all the information she needed.

I turned to my daughter, Sarah, “Why do you think they kept hanging up on her? I am just doing what THEY told me to do when I left Michigan. It shouldn’t be this hard.”

“Mom,” she said, “that is racism. This is a common experience for people of color.” I was livid. I was embarrassed and appalled that this could even be a possibility. Blessing called me to the counter, treating me with kindness and sensitivity. I gave her my insurance card and asked if they could just let me know when they were ready and I would come back the next day. “Absolutely,” she said, “and I am so sorry about the wait.” I’m sure my face was red with embarrassment. “No, I’M sorry and they will be getting a call from me when I get back to my daughter’s house.”

And then we left. As we drove home, I was hoping so hard that when I called the Paw Paw Pharmacy that they would have a reasonable explanation for their actions. They had served us well for two years, what had happened?

I dialed the number and waded through the very same prompts Blessing E. had to wade through. Finally, a person,

“Walgreens Pharmacy, this is Beth”

“Hi Beth,” I said kindly, “This is Lori Tupper and I need to speak with the Pharmacy Manager.”

“I am the Pharmacy Manager,” she said.

“Well Beth, I was just at my Pharmacy here in Baltimore, MD. I am trying to get my prescriptions transferred out here so I can get the medications I need. I talked to someone in Paw Paw before I came out here and this is what they said I should do, but then I listened as the pharmacist out here called your store twice and was hung up on both times. It sure felt like she was hung up on because she was obviously a black person and I’m really hoping that is not the case.”

“Actually, Lori, I am the one who talked to her and I hung up on her because the first thing she said was that she needed some patient information and we don’t give out patient information.”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted her, “you didn’t even ask what information she wanted?”

“It doesn’t matter,” she defended, “We cannot give out any patient information. It wasn’t until the third time that she said she needed to know the name of the pharmacist on duty that transferred the prescriptions.”

“Don’t you think maybe a clarifying question would have been in order instead of just hanging up on her?” I asked.

“Well, we have been very busy and I have had calls from people trying to get personal information to commit insurance fraud and we know this because we know it is a former employee who is doing it. In fact, I even called the patient and told her that her insurance company was asking for information on her. So she called them and they said they had not called.”

It was clear to me that Beth had her “song and dance” story and was convinced she had done nothing wrong.

“Well, let me clarify with you that I AM indeed trying to get my prescriptions changed to Baltimore and I would appreciate it if you would cooperate with them when they call.” I said, tired of listening to her poor excuses.

“Okay,” she said, “I’m really sorry.” I hung up, but what I should have said was, “the person you should be apologizing to has a name. Her name is Blessing E. She is a kind black lady who lives in Baltimore. She is a PHARMACIST who works at the Walgreens Pharmacy and she matters!”

As I processed this experience further, I wish I would have asked Beth, “Is it really EVER appropriate to hang up on someone? As an office manager myself, the only person (?) I ever hung up on was Google or other electronic calls. I wouldn’t dream of hanging up on someone because they asked the wrong question! And wouldn’t you think a big conglomerate like Walgreens would have a method for pharmacists to identify themselves and train their pharmacy managers to be respectful of ALL people no matter what they sound like on the phone? As a white person with many privileges, I have never had to convince others that “White lives matter.” Isn’t it sad that anyone who lives in America has to claim such a slogan? I pray that as I live here in Baltimore, I can build relationships with all sorts of people around me and delight in the rainbow of colors and personalities surrounding me. Thank you, Blessing E. for being exactly what your name says to me as I try to detail my details!