[Mark@Home]

I Have Been Banned From Both Branches of Chemist Warehouse In Ipswich By Their Franchisee​

Here is the text of my letter of complaint, 31 October 2024, to Jack Gance, Founder and Chairman of Chemist Warehouse:

Mr J Gance 31st October 2024
Founder and Chairman of Chemist Warehouse
6 Albert Street
Preston
Melbourne
VIC 3072



Dear Mr Gance,

I have the miserable misfortune to inform you that Jason, your franchisee in Ipswich, Queensland, has banned me from his two stores in the town. The timeline of my entering the South Street store to my being ejected was not even five minutes. With such a swift escalation, you would be forgiven for wondering if I had gone in there guns blazing and reading the Riot Act. Kindly allow me to explain.

On Saturday last, I thought I had been stung or bitten on my right calf by an insect. I was gardening at home, wearing heavy duty “tradie”-style long trousers and steel toe-capped boots. In the afternoon I was aware of an itch. On Sunday most of my lower leg was crimson and had begun swelling. On Monday, blisters appeared and they started weeping. See attached photo.

I booked an appointment to see my GP for yesterday, Wednesday 30th October 2024. She was not pleased. I have Type II Diabetes, although not having had an infection like this before, I was unaware of the extra seriousness imposed by diabetes on an infection of this magnitude. My GP prescribed flucloxacillin, adding that I must start it immediately, go home, raise that leg to allow the fluid already pooling, to drain. Should I develop a fever, she added, I must go to hospital immediately, adding further that, as a diabetic they will appreciate the seriousness and put me on intravenous antibiotics. This all sounded rather serious.

After meeting with my GP yesterday, I must confess to having left the surgery a little light headed. “Punch drunk” perhaps, realising the potential seriousness of the infection in my right leg. It pains me to say that matters took a rather dramatic turn for the worse. I have been banned from Ipswich’s Chemist Warehouse by the franchise owner, a boor by the name of Jason. I have sent a copy of this letter to my GP and am considering writing to my federal Member of Parliament. Yes Jack, I feel that aggrieved.

I left the GP surgery a little light headed at the thought of how this could all-too-easily develop if not treated promptly.

I went to my usual Chemist Warehouse pharmacy in South Street, Ipswich. My wife, XYZ, and I have been loyal customers there for ten years. Ipswich has two Chemist Warehouse branches. I had an excellent working relationship with this branch’s lead pharmacist called Akshay until he took a managerial post at Ipswich’s other Chemist Warehouse branch.

There is no free on-street parking on weekdays in South Street, but the pharmacy has a small car park at the rear of the property. When I arrived, there was only one space at the far corner. I needed other recurring diabetes medications and this Chemist Warehouse branch keeps all my prescriptions on file in store. They send me SMS reminders when repeat medications are due. I inched my way into the parking space but was close to the car next to me and to the fence to my right. You might think I ought to have driven off. But there was now an urgency to my getting antibiotics. In any case, this store had earlier sent me an SMS reminder of the diabetes medications I needed, to which I replied that morning. They therefore knew what I needed – apart from the antibiotics. Frankly, I just wanted to get my meds and go home.

Inside the store, I told the staff that I had replied to their SMS. They knew which medications I needed to collect because that was the detail in their SMS to me. I handed them the new prescription for flucloxacillin my GP had, less than half an hour earlier, written to combat the infection in my leg. While I was waiting, a staff member asked if the ute was mine in the back of the car park. Since no details were given, I suspected it was but declined to move it because I was still feeling a little light headed and given my GP's warnings, I was not inclined to go on a hike, stirring up all the pus pooling in my leg. I explained about my infected leg. I showed them. They knew from my medications that I was diabetic. I asked if, under these circumstances, they could expedite my order so I could be out of everyone's hair in no time. Despite the fullness of the car park, there were no customers queueing for prescriptions.

Without preamble, a man in a black polo neck t-shirt bereft of badge or markings walked up and towered over me (I was sitting) and told me to go and move my ute. His demeanour was clearly designed as an exercise in ascendancy. Having flown in the Royal Air Force during the Cold War, I had seen this tactic used before - to ill effect. I explained I wasn’t feeling well, that I am diabetic and… Without bothering to listen any more, he walked away behind the counter, returned and handed me all my prescriptions they have on file. I asked where my meds were to which he replied, "You are not welcome here any more!" Crikey! Such an escalation in such a short space of time and with no shots fired! I said, “Are you serious? What is your name? I shall write to your managing director.” He chuckled and said “My name is Jason. I am the owner.” There followed a walk of shame to the front door. Was any of this really necessary?

I went to Ipswich’s other Carphone Warehouse store. I asked to see Akshay, since I knew him of old and explained what had happened. He seemed shocked, rightly so given the friendly rapport we had shared down the years. He was apologetic but added that Jason owns this branch, too!

To any who would say I ought to have not parked but driven to another pharmacy, this branch kept all my repeat prescriptions on file. I had been told by my GP to get my antibiotics, go home and put my leg up. I certainly wasn't expecting the outcome that ensued and having replied to their own text, I was confident that, mid-week, I would be in and out in a flash. Under any other circumstances, I would have willingly moved my ute. Under any other circumstances, I might have driven away, gone shopping and returned later to see if there were any other parking slots available. But there was an urgency here. These were not any other circumstances. As it was, I was in and out in a flash, with a bang to boot!

There was no argument here. That is to say, no raised voices. They asked if I would move my car. I refused, but apologetically and at first, I succeeded in convincing the duty pharmacist that my infection, coupled with diabetes, made my request for an expeditious exit and to keep movement of my limb to a minimum, not in any way unreasonable. The person being wholly unreasonable and boorish was the owner.

The people who felt themselves blocked in by me were two girls and a teenage lad. All late teens or early twenties. They were sitting in the boot of their car with the tailgate up. Between them there were a pair of medical crutches, but it was not apparent to me to whom the crutches appertained. Critically, between them, there was no thought of getting the driver (young, thin and agile) to either clamber over the back seats to reach the driving seat, or get in from the passenger side, reverse, let the others in and get on with their day!!!

So, no diabetic meds. No antibiotics and a ban from two pharmacies.

Wednesday, 30th October 2024 was an astounding day. What a result.

I got some flucloxacillin yesterday evening from another pharmacy, but shall do some research as to which pharmacy I might feel comfortable dealing with my regular pharmaceutical needs.

I feel angry and frustrated. I will never go back to Chemist Warehouse.

Yours aye,

My Big Red Leg!