Dr. Troubledyouth, the child psychiatrist I work with, is interesting. He’s probably forty, but he likes to spike his hair, roll up his shirt sleeves just enough to display his wrist tattoos and wanders the office corridors with a perpetual five o’ clock shadow. He looks like a college English professor who has yet to come to terms with the end of his fraternity days.
The first time he asked me to call in a prescription to a pharmacy, I didn’t know who he was (Yes, random guys do ask me to call a pharmacy and order Valium for them quite often. It’s one of the hazards of nursing.) and made him show me his driver’s license!