The unreasonable pharmacist

It wasn't much, but it was entirely uncommon.

I had a prescription that needed filling this week, but the pharmacy only had a few days' supply on hand. I took what they had and waited on the rest. Over the next two days, I got a steady stream of texts and automated calls — twice a day, like clockwork — letting me know my prescription was delayed. Which I already knew. What I needed wasn't a reminder of my frustration; I needed to know what to expect.

So I called. After working my way through the automated-phone-system escape room, I finally reached a human. He was kind, understanding, and told me to swing by in an hour — he'd have it sorted, plus another prescription that was ready.

Five minutes later, my phone rang. I recognized the number and picked up. It was the pharmacist. Not a text. Not an automated voice. Not a black hole. A real person, with real answers, to a real problem.

He explained the insurance wouldn't let him fill it for two more days — he could however, get to me under a non-insurance discount, but at a higher cost if I needed it today. Trying to break my habit of paying for my own impatience, I chose to wait. He said the other prescription was ready and to come on by. When I pulled up, he recognized me on sight, knew exactly what I was there for, and had it waiting. Pleasant the whole way through.

That's going the extra mile. That's hospitality.

"If a soldier demands that you carry his gear for a mile, carry it two miles." (Matthew 5:41) 

It sounds small. But in today's disconnected-while-connected world, it made a real impression. Most of us are wired to everyone — and reachable by almost no one. That pharmacist reminded me what real service actually sounds like.

He followed what I'd call the two-call rule: the first call was me asking for help, the last call was me saying thanks. Everything in between, he called me…. with solutions.

Texts, emails, automated updates — they all have a place. They're built for keeping people informed. They were never built for solving problems or answering questions. That takes a conversation.

If we want to bring peace to the loan process, we have to remember there are real people carrying the real stress of buying a home, with real questions that need real answers. To leave people better for the encounter, we have to be willing to have the encounter.

The extra mile is where hospitality lives — and most people never get there. Jesus put it plainly: if someone makes you carry their gear one mile, carry it two. That sounds unreasonable. That's the point. Unreasonable is what makes it impactful. Do what most people won't, and the people around you — customers, teammates, friends, even strangers — will feel it.