Being in that dystopia fever dream, I can speak for the Americans.

The duty is just about the same as where you are. I'd trade you levels of rudeness any day of the week, though I suspect you'd (rightly) refuse the deal.

Obviously it varies, and at least in the small town I currently live in I'm known to the pharmacist. Which vastly reduces the interrogation.

However, last year I got a scrip for Keflex. I had to go to Boise to get it, as the local pharmacy was closed and I was sick. With Strep, which likes me. I've had it so many times that I can generally just go to the doctor and announce it, they run the test and give me the scrip.

I got the third degree.

"Have you ever taken this drug before?"

Yes.. dozens of times over the past few decades...

"We will need to speak to you about this drug and interactions..."

Not really, Miss Just Graduated High School, I've been taking it since long before your parents met...

But on it went. Twenty minutes while I'm ill and out of sorts for a fucking antibiotic. Not only was I familiar with it, I specifically asked the doctor for it. It works. It's effective.

Yet this little zygote acted like I was trying to purchase narcotics and sell them to children or something...

Unreal.