Pharmacy student Jason Rodgers craves a coveted externship at one of the most prestigious sites in all of Virginia. He sits in his beat-up Honda contemplating how his future will change if he can impress the demanding preceptor and land one of the few slots. His interview with Thomas Pettigrew, The Colonial Pharmacy's owner, and the woman he meets there will, in fact, change his future in ways Rodgers never envisioned.
This riveting tale also puts the reader behind the counter into the fast-paced and often-torturous existence of a retail pharmacist. Perry's evocative pharmacy scenes place the reader in the maelstrom and confusion of pharmacy work. The reader also witnesses the profound angst experienced by Rodgers as a result of his first months as a pharmacist.
In this captivating romantic and suspenseful prequel to The Cyclops Conspiracy and The Cyclops Revenge, master storyteller David Perry introduces us to Jason Rodgers thirteen years before the fateful events unveiled in his bestselling and thrilling Cyclops series of novels. Read The Extern and go back in time to see how it all began...
Visit the website at www.davidperrybooks.com
Pharmacy student Jason Rodgers craves a coveted externship at one of the most prestigious sites in all of Virginia. He sits in his beat-up Honda contemplating how his future will change if he can impress the demanding preceptor and land one of the few slots. His interview with Thomas Pettigrew, The Colonial Pharmacy's owner, and the woman he meets there will, in fact, change his future in ways Rodgers never envisioned.
This riveting tale also puts the reader behind the counter into the fast-paced and often-torturous existence of a retail pharmacist. Perry's evocative pharmacy scenes place the reader in the maelstrom and confusion of pharmacy work. The reader also witnesses the profound angst experienced by Rodgers as a result of his first months as a pharmacist.
In this captivating romantic and suspenseful prequel to The Cyclops Conspiracy and The Cyclops Revenge, master storyteller David Perry introduces us to Jason Rodgers thirteen years before the fateful events unveiled in his bestselling and thrilling Cyclops series of novels. Read The Extern and go back in time to see how it all began...
Visit the website at www.davidperrybooks.com
Jason Rodgers peered intently at the source of his mounting anxiety through the dirt-speckled windshield of his rusting blue Honda Civic. The aging car idled as he sat behind the wheel, its inefficient air-conditioner struggling to cool the cabin against the sweltering mid-August heat. It was after nine on a brutal Monday morning. Newport News and the surrounding cities of the Hampton Roads area had been mired in the relentless clutches of one of Virginia’s ritualistic heat waves for the last seven days. With no relief in sight, the stifling humidity lent the air the quality of a hot, viscous soup. Sweat had erupted from every pore, soaking his clothing. The cotton of his Navy trousers was glued to his thighs. The starched white cotton shirt had lost its stiffness an hour ago.
But it wasn't just the brutal summer weather causing Jason's physical discomfort. The nature of the meeting he was about to undertake contributed significantly. He rotated his wrist and checked the black Casio watch with resin strap--a fifteen-dollar cheapie from Walmart. Rodgers wasn’t sure what he wanted to happen: to speed up the advancing numerals so he could get the interview over with or, if it was somehow possible, to go back in time and rethink his choice. Nonetheless, the inexpensive timepiece of this intelligent but poor college student continued to serve its unremitting purpose: counting down the minutes and seconds with pinpoint precision, shrinking the interval between him and destiny.
Someday, he promised himself he would own a truly magnificent watch. One that reflected the success he planned to achieve as a result of his work in the world. He'd spied a gleaming silver and gold Tissot on the wrist of a ruggedly sophisticated [A1] male model in a men's magazine. One day, he told himself. One day.
He lifted his eyes and peered through the grimy windshield once more. The object of his scrutiny was a short stretch of storefront in a shopping center at the busy intersection of Jefferson Avenue and Denbigh (pronounced Den-bee) Boulevard in the northern stretches of Newport News. The glass door, framed in a faux bronze metal with a matching hand bar stretching across its width, opened every minute or so. At some point during each arc, the glass captured the morning sun, sending a sunlit laser beam into Rodgers's eyes. He hazarded a third glance at the trusty Casio again. 9:23am. Seven minutes to go.
In four minutes, he told himself, he'd get out of the car and walk to the door. Don't want to appear too anxious by being too early. But he also didn’t want to make the fatal mistake of being late. To distract himself and pass the infinitely long quartet of minutes, he continued his examination of the exterior of the aging pharmacy.
Four large plates of tinted glass streaked with grime and dotted with dried water spots flanked the front door, two on each side. The massive window immediately to the right of the door had been stenciled many years ago with the massive words "The Colonial Pharmacy" arcing regally across the glass. The stenciling had occurred years earlier. He knew this because the "r' of "Pharmacy" had gone missing and the gold of a few of the other runes had flecked and cracked like the oil pigment of an ancient Caravaggio. The store’s hours were also posted, equally aged, horizontally beneath it. Faded from years of wind and weather, the earth-toned wall encasing the large windows possessed a pasty white-yellowish hue. The dark outline of water stains traversed the stucco creating continent-like images on an old-world map.
A covered sidewalk stretched the length of the outdoor shopping center allowing patrons to stroll and window shop out of the sun and rain. On the overhang of the section of the breezeway in front of the pharmacy a tall cursive neon lettered sign rested. It, too, spelled out, The Colonial Pharmacy. Despite the morning sun, Rodgers could see that the sign was illuminated. As if coordinated with the stenciling on the glass below by the cosmic gods of decay, the "h" in Pharmacy blinked off for long periods...recovered for a moment...then went dark again. The wanting appearance of the business suggested a healthy measure of neglect.
Despite the faded façade, what lay inside was a granite bulwark of respectability and influence in the profession of pharmacy. The uninitiated would never know to look at it, but this strip mall pharmacy was one of the most sought-after training experiences for pharmacy students in all of Virginia. Those that managed to be accepted into and survive the six torturous weeks...or if by some stroke of good fortune... somehow elicited a few glowing words of recommendation from the owner and preceptor, were heralded as the cream of that year’s apothecarial crop.
The Colonial (over the years its moniker had been shortened by its devoted patrons) anchored a stable of retail shops and restaurants. But this independently owned enterprise sat like a beleaguered outpost across the wide expanse of Jefferson Avenue, hunkered against the onslaught from a corporate fortress of one of retail pharmacy’s behemoths. A Walgreens had laid siege to The Colonial five years earlier[A2] .
Often when a large chain store popped up beside a mom-and-pop drug store, it was only a matter of time before the owners caved to a solicitous offer from the greedy giant under the promise of total obliteration. If they refused, they were promised a slow, agonizing death by a barrage of over-the-counter promotions, cheaper prices and supposedly faster service.
But, despite the persistent threat from across the way, The Colonial, continued to flourish, nurturing a large, devoted clientele and consistent, exemplary personal service that the chains just could not deliver.
Regardless of its outward appearance, Rodgers refused to speak any criticism concerning The Colonial aloud. Karma was a bitch, he thought. And he needed every milligram of luck, kismet and fortuity the cosmos offered. He wanted this externship badly. No, he didn't want it. He needed it. In fact, he was consumed by it. At night as he lay in bed, his gut ached thinking about it. His deep competitive nature and the desire to do things right and see them done right by others was both a passion and, at the same time, a curse. Passing—no excelling at this particular rotation—would validate to the pharmacy gods that Jason Rodgers had the goods.
Pharmacy students that had gone before him said if you landed an externship at The Colonial—and came out clean on the other side--you could write your own ticket. Rumor also had it that the big pharmacy chains like Walgreens and CVS paid better for successful Colonial trainees.
Jason had heard the stories from former students. The Colonial's reputation had been established fifteen years earlier when the owner, Thomas Pettigrew, had been asked by the Dean of the Medical College of Virginia in Richmond, a good friend, that he become a site for training pharmacy students. Pettigrew had agreed with two stipulations. He would take only the best, most dedicated students. He also demanded that he be able to choose the candidates themselves. This had been in direct conflict with long standing tradition that the candidate be assigned to a site by the pharmacy school. Attempts to get Pettigrew to soften his position proved fruitless. After much grumbling, the Dean granted Pettigrew his terms. In return, Pettigrew promised to deliver well-trained, dedicated super-hero like pharmacists. If he failed, he would withdraw from the program. And in the last decade and a half, Pettigrew had made good on his promise.
During each school year, The Colonial hosted only eight externship rotations. Hundreds applied. Of those, only twenty-five were granted interviews. The twenty-five "lucky" ones endured a rigorous ninety-minute interview with Thomas Pettigrew himself. The relentless taskmaster insisted on the right to turn away any student he did not think possessed the mettle to withstand his withering expectations. Then based on the interviews, the list of candidates was ranked in order with the top eight students being accepted into Pettigrew's program. Each candidate entered the program one at a time with the first beginning in September. They were thrust into six weeks of intensive, mind-numbing, one-on-one training. If a candidate bowed out of the program, or they did not please Pettigrew in the first few days, the next candidate in line was offered the opportunity to step in.
After the first year of The Colonial's participation in the program, each of the eight candidates had received multiple job offers. Every employer had contacted the school to inform them that they were the most prepared pharmacists they had ever seen. The college contacted each candidate and asked what the most influential part of their training was. To a person, they all credited Thomas Pettigrew. He was a bastard, they complained. [A3] But if they had to do it again, they said they would not hesitate. And thus, The Colonial’s—and Pettigrew’s—reputation had been born.
Requirements were stiff. If your GPA was less than 3.5, do not bother to apply, the students were told. In fact, last year all the students selected for placement had possessed a perfect 4.0 GPA or better. Their resumes had to be exemplary with references from the most demanding professors and indicate that the student was active in at least two pharmacy-related organizations or activities. Mediocrity was tantamount to incompetence.
Can’t be late! Jason checked the Casio again. Tardiness was a self-inflicted, mortal mistake. Last year, a female student had become bogged down in the heavy traffic on Jefferson Avenue because of a three-car fender bender. She arrived two minutes late for her appointment. Thomas Pettigrew had chastised her for a full three minutes about the need for punctuality, never raising his voice or using profanity. He kept his voice low and even. But the message had been monolithic and resolute.
"Pharmacies could not open unless a pharmacist was present. Every second you were late was one more second a patient could not be served!" He'd informed her. "You will not be an extern here. Please leave my pharmacy immediately."
Jason had learned of the dressing down from an acquaintance. He told him in gory detail the blow-by-blow description of the defrocked young woman. Reduced to a blubbering mess, the student had hit another car from behind on the way back to school because she couldn't see through her tears.
As a rising fourth year pharmacy student--a P4, as it were-- Rodgers's didactic course work had been completed in his first three years of pharmacy school. These next eight months from September to April would be consumed by a handful of six-week-long graded and unpaid rotations. This allowed the future druggists to sample different types of pharmacy practices from high-volume retail chains, independent drug stores, hospital and compounding pharmacies. It also served as an opportunity for the candidates to show off their pharmacy skills and academic acumen to potential employers. For the privilege, students were charged regular tuition rates even though they never set foot inside a classroom during their final year.
He regarded for the fifth time the black rubber watch. 9:26am. He jerked the door handle, leaned his shoulder into the door and pushed it open with a loud shriek. He grabbed his leather briefcase and exited the car, shaking his creased, sweat-laden pant legs away from his skin and smoothing them with a hand. After a long, deep breath, Jason strode across the heat-softened pavement, through the palpable mugginess toward his appointment with the monument of a man named Thomas Pettigrew. Though he'd feel a massive relief when this interview was over, a sense of destiny swelled within him. Something huge lay in his future. He could feel it.
And something massive did lay in Jason Rodgers's future.
It would devastate his life and career.
What profession are you in right now? Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be in another one? Have you considered how much work goes into another career? Perry provides readers with insights into what it takes to become a pharmacist. There are long hours, excessive need for precision, consistency, and commendable empathy toward customers. This is one readers will thoroughly enjoy from start to finish.
This story begins with Jason working himself up for an interview of a lifetime. The externship at The Colonial Pharmacy is renown in the pharmacy business as "THE PLACE" that will either show you who you are or who you are not. If an extern can get a passing grade from the infamous Thomas Pettigrew, the chances of virtually any pharmaceutical position in his future becomes vast. If he cannot measure up, it could mean an unsuccessful career, before it has even begun! But, failure is not an option, so Jason goes in and unbeknownst, he gets a little help from a woman who he later finds out to be Pettigrew's daughter, Chrissie. Owing a favor, a date at an upscale restaurant, looms heavily over him knowing how much he wants this externship. Having a relationship of any kind with the daughter of "THE OLD MAN" can be a very bad start, but his head and his heart are saying two separate things by the end of the first date. How will this budding relationship affect his externship? As if that wasn't enough pressure, he also has a tail, someone is keeping tabs on him, following him and watching The Colonial Pharmacy, but for what reason and will he be curious enough to find out?
Perry has written an interesting story, filled with well-developed characters, originality and credibility. It is fascinating to see what actually goes on in the life of a pharmacist. You go up to the pharmacy, everyone has, and ask for your prescription, but as a customer, that is the extent of the business side that you see. Everything else that is addressed in this book is intriguing and eye-opening. It gives you respect for pharmacists, but Perry also raises some terrifying, but truthful aspects of how the medical practice and major retail pharmacies operate in this day and age as well. This story, while very creative, does have quite a bit of spelling and grammatical errors and since this was an advanced reader copy, these may have been cleaned up prior to publication. The book is fast-paced, but easy to follow and entertaining. If you are a reader of medical thrillers, you may find this one to your liking. The Extern is the prequel to other Jason Rodgers novels in the Cyclops Series by Perry; therefore, it can be read as a standalone or prior to the others.
An electronic copy of this book was provided to Turning Another Page by Reedsy Discovery and in no way affects the honesty of this review. We provide a four-star rating to The Extern by David Perry.