Domestic Contraband

So today I bought some brand name sinus tablets. Not that new weird stuff that makes your head spin and your stomach churn, but the original product that knocks those sinus headaches for six, sends your heart racing and dilates your pupils enough to make you look like a Japanese Manga character.

I had attempted to purchase a pack a couple of weeks ago from a shopping centre pharmacy. The shop assistant, whil

st friendly and helpful at first, glared at me and then in muted tones whispered sternly ‘We do not stock that. I don’t know where you would get that now, perhaps one of those seedy discount warehouse chemists in a dark alleyway somewhere out the back of Nambour’.

Ok, so the last part was not actually verbalised, but certainly implied. Needless to say, I hastily fled out of that store (as fast as I was able to with my large wonky-wheeled trolley of groceries), suitably admonished.

After a morning of sinus headaches that no double-shot short espresso could banish, I took a chance that the discount warehouse chemist near my children’s school might stock it. Whilst not located in a back alley, it was set back far enough from the road that a few shadows fell across the entrance in the early morning.

I took a deep breath, and pulled myself together, trying to look perky and friendly and less like the sleep-deprived head-pained Mum that I was.

The young (and very serious looking) shop assistant approached me.

‘Hi, would you happen to stock Sudafed original?’ I asked, my voice wobbling slightly as her painted on eyebrows furrowed slightly and she held me in a scrutinising stare.

‘Yes, but we can only provide them in a day and night formula.’ She informed me, mentally assessing my reaction to see whether that would interfere with my plans to obviously buy up large quantities and manufacture something illicit from it.

I paused momentarily ‘That will be fine…’ I replied, my confidence wavering as I handed over my driver’s licence.

Again she paused to take in my appearance as if committing it to memory.

I felt uncomfortable with the silence and compelled to explain my hesitation, ‘Sorry,’ I said ‘I didn’t actually know it came in a day and night formula, but that will be fine, I just wanted something to take away my sinus headache’.

‘Yes, if you need the original formula you need to get a prescription from your doctor for that.’ She spat at me before whisking off my licence and then speaking in hushed tones to the pharmacist who then proceeded to glare menacingly over the glass barricade at me.

The shop attendant then handed me a buzzer which would apparently notify me of my narcotics being ready for collection. I had a few moments, perhaps I should browse the vast array of aisles and pick up a few necessities so that I looked like a normal shopper and not a drug dealing king pin.

A Collingwood toothbrush for my husband – ha ha the irony. Some organic cider vinegar to aid the digestion, and of course some antiperspirant needed to alleviate the hyperhidrosis caused by excessive scrutiny when innocently making a purchase.

I was asked several times by shop assistants whether they could help me with something, in fact I had the odd feeling I was being followed. I was grateful then that I had managed to avoid the sections containing nit shampoo, worm tablets, haemorrhoid creams, and adult diapers lest they were making notes for discussing later at their staff meeting in the tearoom.

Finally, after I had surely collected enough unnecessary items to offset my purchase and detract attention, my buzzer sounded loudly making me jump. I headed towards the back of the store (where a young boy was chewing the lid off from a bottle of nail polish – why weren’t the same staff watching him?!?) and collected my tablets. They were presented to me in a locked plastic box with a large and prominent label warning me of the seriousness of inappropriately purchasing this product.

I did wonder how I would break the little pills free from their synthetic prison, but was politely advised to take my purchases to the front counter next to the Gina Liano perfume – obviously an up-selling opportunity for the staff – would you like a side of reality TV star fragrance with that? Not sure that I’d want to smell like an outspoken barrister who resembles a petite drag queen and throws about expletives willy nilly at every opportunity.

The counter attendant extracted the key to the box from another box which was locked with another key which she wore around her neck and tallied up my purchases. I completed the sale and was finally free to leave the store.

Like Gollum and his rings, I took my precious to the car and vowed to use these tablets sparingly.