Nearly everyone here has a great, Westport business-going-the-extra-mile story to tell from the past few days.
Here’s mine.
Every month, my mother renews a hard-to-fill prescription. She’s come to rely on the Walgreens near the Southport line as her go-to pharmacy. No other drugstore seems to stock it.
Yesterday, I went there for a refill. The store was dark, but I pulled on the front door.
It opened.
A flashlight-wielding employee led me to the back. The pharmacist was busy — by cellphone light — calling customers to let them know their prescriptions could be picked up.
“Our phones are out, so they probably think we’re closed,” she said.
She stopped what she was doing, to help me.
She made calls to a number of other Walgreenses, in Connecticut and Westchester. She finally found one — in Greenwich — with the medication on hand.
Then she asked if I needed directions.
It was pitch black. I told her I’d find it myself.
I thanked her profusely.
As the first employee walked me to the front, the pharmacist was already dialing her next customer.
In the dark.
