Wanna hear something ironic? Imodium AD actually tried to stage an intervention with me!!!

Forget about the Government Debt Ceiling Bill or MTV turning 30; I have an update on a dangerous epidemic sweeping the nation that’s going shamefully under-reported by the media: The Imodium Ad shortage of 2011.

 

I first shared my concerns here in June and my wife joked that maybe my mass Imodium consumption had caused a shortage of some sorts and it appears that might be the case. After striking out in my local stores, I branched out.  Three different CVS managers and a Wal-Mart employee plus an employee from a Pennsylvania supermarket have told me that there was a recall on Imodium AD, but I can’t find anything about a recall online, in the farmer’s almanac or with Ask Asa. I doubted them because I figured that of all people, I would know if there was a recall, it’s not like they wouldn’t publicize it or spread the word. Have you ever heard of a secret recall? No – they spread the word like Officer Bird and tell people everywhere if something is wrong! That’s how things get recalled – they let people know.  And don’t tell me to get the store brand – it’s not the same! After scouring three states to no avail, I got strategic and went on the website for Imodium AD and called the Consumer Care Center at the number listed.

Before you even ask – No, I am not a crazy person nor am I a junkie looking for a fix…I’m just a concerned citizen looking for answers. OK, maybe I am a junkie looking for a fix – but this is getting suspicious and don’t judge me!  I can tell you with absolute certainty that I now know what they meant in May with all that Rapture and the world ending talk. If I’m lying in my bed, covered in sweat while trembling in fear and this is only a nightmare – PLEASE WAKE ME UP!!!

Let me just start by saying that the Imodium customer service agent was the absolute coolest and nicest lady ever! She assured me it wasn’t a recall and that it was a shortage of supply to fill the demand. Take that in and let me repeat it – it’s a shortage of supply. She was reassuring me that everything would be OK and we were on the way to becoming besties, when the call suddenly took a wrong turn and veered downhill.

Agent: “Sir, can I get your contact info and we can put you on our mailing list for coupons and then contact you when Imodium AD is available back in your area again?”

 

I proceeded to give her my phone number, address, and then told her my email address.

Agent: “Sir, can you repeat your email address for me?”

Me: “immodiumabuser (at) yahoo.com

Agent: “Sir, Stop it right now, I don’t believe that. Is that really your email address?”

Me: “Of course it is, why would I ask you to contact me and give you the wrong email address? What kind of person does that? Email me while we’re on the phone and I’ll email you back.”

Agent: “Sir, are you kidding with me?”

Me: “I’m being serious, why would I waste my time to call you if I wasn’t looking for help here? I’m not a lunatic – I just want to know when and where I can get my Imodium.”

 

I then filled her in on how I can’t go anywhere without my Imodium, take it 24/7 if I need to leave the house, how this site is a love letter to Imodium AD, and basically how it saved my life and made me a productive citizen. Needless to say, her end of the line got a lot quieter.

Agent: “Sir, how much Imodium do you take? How many have you taken today?”

Me: “5 pills”

Agent: “Sir – its 11 AM! Why have you already taken 5 pills?”

Me: “Maam, I work almost an hour from home…”

Agent: “Sir, Please don’t take any more today…”

Me: “Maam, I won’t be able to eat lunch if I don’t take anymore.”

Agent: “Sir, How many days have you been taking that many?”

Me: “Days, it’s been since 1994. I never would have been able to go to Woodstock in 1994, or college for that matter…”

Agent: “Sir, that is not OK. We do not recommend that many pills to be taken for that period of time and we don’t test on that dosage. We test on the dosage listed on the back of the box. You can be causing internal damage to your organs and…”

Me: “Maam, I’m sure I don’t even have internal organs anymore between all the Imodium, the alcohol and everything else – I’m convinced that if you were to X-Ray my body, it would go straight from Esophagus to Anus with nothing in between…”

Agent: “Sir, have you taken anything else today?”

Me: “Just some Tylenol, why…”

Agent: “How many of those have you taken and which kind?”

Me: “I took three Tylenol Extra Strength because I had a headache when I woke up.”

Agent: “Sir, Legally I now have to give you the number for Poison Control because you have exceeded the recommended dosage on those products. We also make Tylenol – do you have a pen? 1-800-222-1222. Please repeat it back to me so I know that you wrote it down.”

Me: (laughing) “1-800-222-1222 (which really is the number for the American Association of Poison Control Centers) I got it but I don’t need that number. I don’t care if you tell me that there’s gasoline or pesticide in Imodium and that it’ll kill me by New Year’s Eve – it works and I’m gonna take it either way! I didn’t call to get you nervous and I’m not looking to sue you guys or anything – I just need the Imodium to be available again!”

Agent: “Sir, this is not OK and I am really concerned. Obviously I cannot tell you not to take Imodium AD, but I must caution you that we do not test it in the quantity that you take it in.”

Me: “Listen Maam, I love Imodium AD more than anyone out there and I can guarantee that you will never find anyone more loyal to it than me. It has changed my life and I want to be the spokesperson for you. How can I get my face on the box – can you help me with that?” (we both laughed at this) “My wife wouldn’t let me send in my testimonial. Seriously, I just need it back on the shelves.”

None of these are available? What's going on?

I reassured her that I was fine and just wanted to find the Imodium and she was able to help me find 5 different locations (ShopRite, A & P, Food Emporium and 2 K-Marts) with Imodium AD in stock. Forget the Amber Alert – she had a listing of stores within 30 miles of my house along with their phone numbers so I could confirm before I went. She could tell if they had 6 packs, 12 packs, or 24 packs – unfortunately no one had the 72 packs in stock, but who was I to complain? I don’t know why the White House didn’t have these guys looking for Bin Laden, because with their pin point accuracy and precision – they could have bagged that fool years ago!
She really was a very nice lady and told me that she would go and check out this site when she got home from work that night. I’m sure she probably thought that I was a lunatic, but later that night I did see a small spike in hits… I’m sure they record those calls and will probably play my call at their holiday party so everyone can have a good laugh at my expense.

The best part was that my boss walked into my office while I was on the phone and asked who I was on the phone with and didn’t believe me when I said Imodium. He shook his head and then he looked at me like I was crazy. As he sat down to listen to me, he realized that I really was on the phone with them. He also didn’t expect (and neither did I – to be honest) that I would be on the phone for over forty minutes with them either.  

As if that wasn’t enough, I got a letter and authorization form in the mail a couple of days after the call requesting my medical records. How crazy is that? I just want my Imodium on the shelves and they want to talk with my doctors. They haven’t requested my photo for the box yet, but I’m sure that letter should come any day now. When it does and my picture on the box makes me the international face of Diarrhea – I’ll remember each and every one of you!

Imodium Letter 1

Imodium Letter 2

Rhianna says “Please Don’t Stop the Music” – yet proceeds to kill my IPOD

I constantly chastise my wife because she leaves tissues or loose change or dollar bills scrunched up in the pockets of her clothing all the time; she never checks them before putting them into the laundry basket. I know, I know, it could be worse – I could have a wife that hits me or has bad hair or runs up credit card debt, but this is serious. Every time that she does it, I take it as an opportunity to get on my soapbox and tell her how it is irresponsible and that she needs to check each and every time. “It’s not that hard to check the pockets” I’m prone to saying. I don’t feel good while doing this to her, but I hate, hate, hate, to have torn up tissues mixed in with the clothes. It gets all over and annoys me to no end. Or worse than that is if I stick my hand into her pants pocket to check and grab a disgusting snot rag – GROSS and that is exactly how my last fist fight started.  I don’t bring this up to rat her out or make her feel bad; I bring this up because what goes around came around for me.  Don’t tell her, but I accidentally left my IPOD in the pocket of my bathrobe and put it through the Washer AND the Dryer which destroyed it.  

I keep my IPOD set up in the bathroom with speakers.  I need it there in order to time myself when I shower so that I will know how long to stay in there. It regulates me and keeps me on track. Some might say that it is enabling my compulsions and rituals (yes – I’m talking to you Turtle Lady!) She thinks that I need to evict it from the bathroom immediately, but how else will I know how long my son should be in the bath if I don’t play the specific number of songs? Don’t even waste your time trying to understand my cleanliness rituals – they will just confuse, frustrate, and annoy you. 

My IPOD died in vain folks. It all happened because I had gotten some new music on ITunes and Damn you Rhianna! You asked me to make you feel like you’re The Only Girl in the World and you had to make that song so God Damn catchy, Didn’t you! I’m dancing around like a fool and can’t get that song out of my head and my poor innocent IPOD paid the price for it. I took my shower, finished my routine, and put the IPOD into my bathrobe pocket so that I could go downstairs to my office and download that song onto my IPOD. Unfortunately, as I’m often prone to do – I got distracted with my usual nonsense and forgot that it was in my pocket. I removed my robe, got dressed, threw it into the hamper to wash and the rest is history.

As a rule, I never check the pockets in my clothes because I never need to. I always empty my pockets when I take off my clothes. Multiple times. I am a neurotic individual who has to do things many times in a row so you know that I always check the pockets again and again in case I left my keys or the winning Powerball ticket in there. My wife never checks her pockets, so I always make sure to check hers again and again. (Once again with the multiples.) I got paid back in spades for lecturing her over and over when I threw my bathrobe into the washing machine. One can debate the frequency with which I clean said bathrobe and how if I didn’t wash it as much this might not have happened – but it’s easier for me to blame Rhianna on this one.          

As I opened the dryer door, there it was. My poor little green Nano looking up at me helpless and wondering why…just…why…I immediately picked it up and started blowing into the bottom of it to see if I could dry it off in some way – but nothing. (It’s funny because I would never attempt CPR on a human because of my fear of other people’s filthy mouths, bad breath, and, most of all I‘m lazy – but an electric music device brings out the hero in me.) Of course I was cursing myself profusely and being reminded of how stupid I really am to have done that, but I was still hoping above all hope that it just might flicker on. I cradled that poor mint-colored baby and spoke gently with encouraging words, hoping for some miracle resuscitation like when Jack and Kate found Charlie and brought him back to life after Ethan had hung him in those vines on Lost. (Another time that beloved saga made me tear up like a little school girl that missed the bus– don’t even get me started about when Jin and Sun died together on that sub in Season Six because I’m still not over that!)

I then realized what an idiot I must look like trying to give CPR to my dead IPOD on the laundry room counter. Imagine the looks I would get if my wife walked in on me shouting into that dead IPOD’s face “Whitney , come on Whitney – are you still in there Baby?” I really felt like – all of a sudden –  Ms. Houston was gonna just flash on that display screen and maybe I was hallucinating, but I could almost swear that she looked me in the eyes and purred softly “Didn’t we almost have it all…”

Needless to say, my shower the next morning was not OK and I was all out of whack. I did not pass go and went immediately to Best Buy to get a replacement at lunchtime. (This is a big deal for me to admit because me and Best Buy have a long and sordid, love/hate relationship dating back to a certain incident a few years ago that I still cannot talk about without getting irate. Long story short, it had to do with a McDonald’s Monopoly game piece and a piss-poor online ordering experience which led to me to their hotline screaming and threatening to call Ask Asa! The operator finally shut me up and got me off the phone when I told her that I had their address and I was on my way over to the call center. It wasn’t true, but she didn’t know that and credited me back to get me off the phone.) I left Best Buy without incident (this time) with my new IPOD in hand and all was right with my shower today.

Lesson learned here: If Rhianna ever tries to Disturbia my bathroom routine again, that bitch is off my IPOD and out of my shower forever!!! And little green nano in whatever dump site you end up at – “Call me Rude Boy” but I had to get a new model…I had to go on. I really wanted to be like Rose telling Jack in the end of Titanic: “I’ll never let go Jack” but your name wasn’t Jack and I needs me some music for my shower…

AS A POSTSCRIPT TO THIS POST:
I asked my wife to read this and see what she thought of it before I posted it. As she was reading it, she looked over at me, laughed to herself, then looked back at the laptop screen, and then she looked back at me and laughed again. I was thinking how clever she must have thought I was with my Rhianna Song title play-on-words in the post, but no – she wasn’t laughing at that. She proceeded to then reach into her front pants pocket and pull out my Banana Republic Credit Card! She looked up at me and said “Oh, that reminds me…I forgot to give you this back after I ordered that stuff…” I rest my case people!