So, if you couldn't tell by the name, I work for a huge, faceless pharmacy chain. For some reason, people assume that I'm a doctor. Probably because I'm a balding (even though I'm 24) white man wearing a white labcoat and I occasionally wear glasses. In reality, I know next to nothing when it comes to what's wrong with you.
So anyway, we're having yet another grueling 600+ day and this old lady with a European accent comes up to me and immediately says: "Doctor, I need you to look at this rash." And before I could say "Let me get the pharmacist" or "We have a clinic up front," she just lifts her shirt. She then explained that she wasn't wearing a bra because it irritated the rash.
While resisting every urge to vomit, I managed to tell her that she needs to put her shirt back on and see a doctor.
I'm still having nightmares.
So anyway, we're having yet another grueling 600+ day and this old lady with a European accent comes up to me and immediately says: "Doctor, I need you to look at this rash." And before I could say "Let me get the pharmacist" or "We have a clinic up front," she just lifts her shirt. She then explained that she wasn't wearing a bra because it irritated the rash.
While resisting every urge to vomit, I managed to tell her that she needs to put her shirt back on and see a doctor.
I'm still having nightmares.
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