The outpatient lobby of the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center.
9:00 AM.
The pharmacy window, which should have been orderly, was now swarmed with people.
The line stretched all the way to the lobby's revolving doors. Everyone clutched a freshly written prescription from their doctor, their faces etched with anxiety.
Linda Moore stood before Window 3.
She was a thirty-five-year-old single mother who worked as a cashier at a supermarket.
At that moment, her hair was a mess, and one of the buttons on her blouse was misaligned.
"Please, check again."
Linda's voice trembled, laced with desperation.
"There must be a mistake in the system. This is for NovoLog. How can a hospital as big as yours be out of stock?"
The pharmacist behind the counter was named Tom, a young man who had graduated just two years ago.
He stared at the flashing yellow warning box on his computer screen, tiny beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
