Yes, you can ignore ‘You can’t’
Several years back, I worked with a producer who had a mantra that I have tried to live up to for lo those many years. “Never hear what comes after, ‘You can’t,’” he used to say.
We would bounce around the country from event to event almost every weekend doing shows and sometimes we’d get there late enough that we couldn’t follow conventional methods of getting the proper credentials. But, to get to where we could, we’d have to get past several “You can’ts.” The first was at press parking. “You can’t …,” by which time we’d have the car parked and headed for the stadium or arena. “You can’t …” and we’d be in the television production office. “You can’t …” and we’d be credentialed and legal. And, so it went.
No matter what comes after “You can’t,” you never hear it if you just keep moving.
I was reminded of that mantra this week when I was on the road in Connecticut and needed to get a prescription filled. This seemingly simple process took longer to perfect than the Manhattan Project.
It started simply enough. I called my doctor’s office and after punching in the mandatory buttons that have become a way of life until a real live human being deems it fitting and proper to pick up the phone, I was told that the doctor could see me via Zoom later that afternoon. Great! I’d have my script by dinner.
At the appointed time, there she was, looking bright and chipper to the point that in addition to my prescription, I wanted to ask for some of whatever it is that she’s taking.
This is roughly where the “You can’ts” started to come in. But this time it came in the form of a question. “I am only licensed in California, so I can’t write a prescription to be filled in Connecticut.”
“You can’t?”
I must pause here to applaud my doctor for proudly stating that she’s only licensed in California. Were she licensed in Mississippi or Texas, I expect she would have told me, “I have no idea what these pills do, but go ahead — give ‘em a whack. It’ll either cure your infection or your big toe will fall off.”
The solution: My CVS pharmacy here in Marin would simply accept the prescription from my doctor, whisk the information to a waiting CVS pharmacy in Norwich, Connecticut, and I’d be cured in about two hours. Ahh, but here comes the dreaded “You can’t.”
The difference between parking guards and CVS pharmacy is that you could actually talk to security guards — should you have the time or the inclination to do so. But CVS doesn’t allow that without first running the gauntlet of messages about COVID-19, directions to the facility, date of birth, size of shoe, name of first born and the ever-popular, are you a doctor? And don’t ever be fooled by the animated voice asking if this is about a prescription. That takes you directly to phone hell — ultimately ending with, “You may hang up now.”
I had two “We can’ts” and two “You can’ts” before I was able to convince CVS Marin County that CVS Connecticut was the same store and that a prescription could be transmitted between the two without FedExing them one capsule at a time. And yes, that Connecticut is now one of the 48 contiguous states.
I’m working on a recorded voice that tells the caller, “You can’t” before there is a question asked. It’s quick. It’s decisive. And you can’t drive away from it.
“Hi, this is CVS pharmacy. Before you ask, you can’t and more importantly, we can’t. If you need a prescription filled, press two. Are you a doctor? You may hang up now.”