My insurance company (let’s call it Tom) and my pharmacy (which we’ll call Dick) are both owned by the same company (which, as you probably know, I’m going to call Harry), which is a little like a personal injury lawyer owning his own ambulance service. Tom’s preferred pharmacy is Dick, for obvious reasons, so I’ve been using them for a couple of years now.
Every pharmacy in the country now has an automatic refill service, and Dick is no exception. Dick cajoled me into signing up for his automatic refill service, and up to now it’s been great: the minute I hit about 30 day’s worth onhand, Dick texts me to let me know that he’s filled the prescriptions and come pick them up. My prescriptions are issued every year when I have my checkup. So, when Mary picked up my last refill in February, I assumed that Dick wouldn’t do any more refills until I came in with a new prescription.
Well, you know what happens when you assume. Last month, I get a text message from Dick, telling me my prescriptions have been refilled. This puzzled me, because I hadn’t touched the refill that was done in February, but I assumed that I had counted incorrectly and had Mary pick them up. While Mary is on the way to see Dick, I get not one, but two irate calls from my doctor’s office (which I’ll call Devender, because that’s his name) telling me that the doctor has authorized the refill, but if I want any more I’ll have to make an appointment. Evidently, seeing that I had no refills, Dick called my doctor to get more, all without notifying me.
Today I got yet another irate call from Devender about another prescription, and after assuring them that I had scheduled an appointment, I decided that automatic refills were more trouble than they were worth. I went to Dick’s website to turn that feature off, and found that I couldn’t. I ended up calling their help desk. I spent half an hour on the phone before they had an agent available, who I could barely hear and who tried to convince me to keep the automatic refills going, but finally took care of it.
All’s well that ends well, I guess, but now I’m dreading my appointment at the end of May, because I’ll probably be lectured by the doctor about this whole mess.