Dear Insufferable Yuppie

I was the snarling, hunched man who stood behind you coughing and sneezing at the pharmacy pick up window this morning.  You remember, that was when you spent 10 minutes arguing with the pharmacist over the cost of your medicines.   By the look of the gold watch and oh so fashionable running shoes you were wearing, paying $50 for your prescriptions might not be a stretch.

Thank you for pointing out to everyone in earshot that the pharmacy, the drug company, and your allergist were just out to tap your bank account.  Yes, your health is important, and and our time is not.

And I'm surprised that a man of your superior intellect and social station had never heard of this thing called the Internet, where one can look at a pharmaceutical companies website for coupons.  Once this was explained, I was shocked, shocked I say, to discover that you could not see where the name of the drug and its manufacturer was written on the printout, but I'm glad that the pharmacist took the time to write it down, explain the process to you, and then answer your question which amounted to "Huh?".

I do apologize for snarling at you in Russian as you passed me, but I think it was a healthy venting of anger and frustration.  Also, when you get home, if there's a burn or raised blister located on the back of your head, that's my fault.  I was boring a hole in your skull with my haterage vision, and I hope that the tumor that I wished to be implanted on your medula oblongata thrives for years before you find it.

Here's hoping you feel better, and that you are able to save a few drakmas when you return later today for your prescription.