Last Laugh

By Deborah Morrill Andrews

My husband, Dennis, spends five months of the year travelling on business. One day during his absence, my daughter awoke with an ear infection. We went immediately to the doctor and then to the pharmacy, where we had a long wait at the prescription counter.

Once home, I read the medicine bottle. Along with instructions was typed, "Thank you, Dennis." I was livid! Dennis wasn't even in the state. I knew how busy the pharmacy was, but I had to make my point.

When a woman answered the phone, I snapped, "I just left your pharmacy. I took my child to the doctor, I had the prescription filled and I wrote the check. Can you explain why your establishment sees fit to thank my husband instead of me for my patronage?"

The woman gently interrupted my tirade. "Ma'am," she said, "our pharmacist's name is Dennis. HE was thanking you."