Work: it needs to go away

I'm kind of over my entire job. My new manager (post Spring restructuring) is a sweet and rather clueless man. For example, I needed #64 tablets of a backordered drug to complete a patient's prescription. He already had enough for 3 weeks, so no rush. I sent an email out asking if I could borrow 64 tablets, and no hurry because the patient had plenty. Then I closed my store for the weekend. Meanwhile, the emails were flying fast and furious, with my manager sending emails that there was an emergency shortage, and could we help Grace out, patient's life on the line, etc. I came back to work on Monday to over 1,000 pills transferred to my store (I will NEVER use that many tablets - this is the only prescription I've ever gotten for this drug).
Huge waste of time sorting back through all the emails and begging people to take their drugs back.

Then, we've been having conference calls in which twice we've been encouraged to do something that is no longer condoned by the company. It's a sticky little legal matter, and something our company used to espouse, but the fact is that two years ago our stance on the matter changed and the company issued a very clear policy on the subject. After the first conference call, I politely forwarded the policy to my manager with a reminder that this policy had changed, and a recommendation for a legal-approved way to handle it. He ignored it, and we were told to do the same exact incorrect procedure the next week.
I emailed him again, once again pointing to the P&P. He replied, "Well. I'll have to ask legal to clarify that."
THERE IS NOTHING TO CLARIFY. The policy is a clear as glass. It could not be more forthright. One more push to do something that is against company policy and considered, by our lawyers at least, to be illegal and I'm done being cute. I'm calling the ethics department. This is absurd.

Then, all my patients are crazy, and that's just getting exhausting.
We have this guy who has rapidly progressed in his hypochondria, and now he's veering toward paranoia as well. Today he drove to the hospital, went to his routine appointment, and came to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. While there he told me he had a question to ask me, and proceeded to tell me that he was pretty sure someone was putting poison in his house that was making his mouth taste funny. I asked if he'd had repairs done, or his house cleaned, or yardwork done. "Oh, no," he whispered. "It's people intentionally spreading poison. I know, because this guy was in my yard in a mask with a spray can. And I jumped out with a knife and told him to get out of my yard or I'd call the police. AND HE RAN. Would he run if he wasn't guilty?" Um, perhaps it was the knife that made him run?
So anyway, his question. He wanted to know if he should go to the emergency room after this incident. Yep, after coolly driving himself to the doctor, seeing his doctor, seeing me, and having no symptoms whatsoever, he wants to go to the ER because someone was spraying RoundUp in his yard. Seriously. No wonder our healthcare system is floundering.

And then there was the tantrum over our registers. We recently switched over to using a chip card reader, and a woman refused to use it because she was sure it was the mark of the beast referred to in Revelations. She would not insert her card. So I had to manually key the numbers in and call her credit card company for authorization. Next time you wonder why your prescription is taking so long, blame the antichrist.

Over it. Time to retire.