You have to wait in the probably-one-cashier line behind everyone else needing prescription meds or non-prescription pseudoephedrine, rather than going to the probably-multiple-cashier regular checkouts at the front of the store. On top of that, people in front of you will probably have questions to ask the pharmacist about their medications. I ended up waiting (I timed it) 4 minutes in line to see if a local pharmacy had a particular kind of a particular pseudoephedrine-containing medication, only to learn upon reaching the head of the line that they didn’t. Contrast that with less than 30 seconds to find it on the shelf once reaching the appropriate aisle and a quick wait in the cashier lines at the front of the store.
I wasn’t until now. Thanks!
Re: the fingerprints thing –
It may be a difference in cities that don’t have a terribly large amount of crime. My own experience: I was living in a fairly stricken part o’ town, or at least nearby it. Most of the people on my street were upper lower class to lower middle class, but we were within spitting distance of drug dealers and their clients, as well as people who just couldn’t afford to live anywhere else.
One morning I sleepily hopped in my car and started driving to work*, and as I tooled down the neighborhood street I began to notice peculiarities about my car. At first it was a general sense of unease as I looked around, but then I realized what was nagging at my attention: the little pull-out ashtray I put my spare change in was gone.
Pulling over to the side of the road, I began going through my car – there was the ashtray and a few pennies on the floor, and the dome light had been knocked off. I quickly went through the car to see if anything else was missing, and while other things had been disturbed (curiously enough, including my Wilsons black leather jacket worth a few bucks at your favorite pawn shop) nothing else had been taken. I quickly went home and called the police.
Come to discover that something else had been taken – the old broken Dell laptop I had in a bag underneath the futon. If you didn’t actually open the thing to see the shattered screen (as a matter of fact, no, I never throw anything away) you might think it was worth something. The police dutifully dusted my car for fingerprints and contacted me a day or two later with the results.
It ended up that the thief had been an elderly fellow, the father of a neighbor of ours. Apparently he was old and senile and confused. He’d been going into houses all down the street and taking little bits of this and that. The police asked me if the laptop had been damaged before he stole it; I was honest and said it had. He probably would have had to replace it if it hadn’t. I did press charges, too; it doesn’t make me happy to think of an old man in prison, but it makes me even less happy to think of him entering other people’s homes and taking their stuff.
Oh, and incidentally – both the back door and the car door weren’t locked. Why yes, this was boneheaded of me and my housemates. Why yes, I do lock my doors now. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have chased the old guy if I’d seen him in my living room; then again, you never know what you’ll do.
*Some fine and virtuous Pitter can lambast me if they wish for not having gotten enough sleep before I got behind the wheel. I might have severely injured someone. 
Be sure to use your indoor voice.
Perhaps they were prescription, huh? And he can’t make a living w/o tools of the trade now can he? 
I love pit threads where evildoers get (at least some of) their comeuppance. Make me feel warm and fuzzy. 
In San Francisco, you’re lucky if you can coerce a cop to take interest in a hit-and-run collision with a parked car. Don’t hold your breath. Some agencies are just busier or less well-staffed than others and aren’t able to get highly involved unless someone’s dead or bleeding badly.
Also, I wouldn’t call taking the mag light stealing, since he abandoned it.
Look, I hate it as much as you do. However, the junkies are not the ones responsible. It’s akin to a mother killing her children because they kept getting raped by their teachers - the teachers are guilty of rape, but they took no part in the kids death. Here it’s the same, the store, in all it’s wisdom decided that annoying paying customers to no end is a valid method of loss prevention. We’re only putting up with that crap cause we need to breathe.
I was really frustrated one day and took it out on the poor pharmacist, my bad, but her reaction was amazing. I asked why I had to stand in line at the pharmacy to get Sudafed, slowing down important pharmacy service for everyone (mostly elderly, since it was during the day). The pharmacist looked at me like I was an idiot and said “People steal it to make meth”. Well HOW THE FUCK IS THAT MY PROBLEM? Don’t sell Sudafed. Hire a fucking security guard! All good solutions!
I’m thinking, if that shit goes prescription (I can’t take Phenylephrine. it gives me unbearable side effects and spikes my blood pressure to high heaven, I’m in my 20’s, I shouldn’t have 160/100!) I will find a meth dealer and buy stolen Sudafed from him on sheer principle.
Anyone see where Breakdancing Duck’s post went?
Thanks.