No ID, No Idea, Part 43

, , , , | Right | March 27, 2021

I work at a legal cannabis dispensary. When a customer or patient enters the building, the security people scan their IDs to make sure they’re legitimate. Cashiers check IDs again to make sure they’re current and that the visitor is of age to purchase the product.

A woman steps up to my register. I greet her and ask to see her ID. She holds it far enough away that I’m having trouble reading her birth date and the expiration date, and she starts to put it away before I can start squinting at the card.

Me: “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I need to see your ID again.”

Once again, she held the ID far enough away that I couldn’t read anything, so I reached out to try and take the card so I could read it properly, which is pretty common for us to do. Not only did she not let go of the card, but she snatched it from my hand and told me not to invade her privacy. 

Before I could tell her that state regulations require me to thoroughly check her ID, OR that I see so many IDs during a day and would not remember any of her information if I tried, she marched off back into line and declared that she was going to wait for someone else to help her, never mind that any other cashier would need to see her ID, as well.

She eventually complained to our general manager, who didn’t know how to get it through to her that it’s legally required of us to check her ID.

Related:
No ID, No Idea, Part 42
No ID, No Idea, Part 41
No ID, No Idea, Part 40
No ID, No Idea, Part 39
No ID, No Idea, Part 38

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Indica-tive Of A Good Time

, , , | Right | July 13, 2018

(I work in a marijuana dispensary in Colorado, where recreational weed is legal. A couple stops in one night and they aren’t quite sure what they are looking for, so I have been explaining how different strains of weed work.)

Me: “So, one way to remember the difference between indicas and sativas is ‘indica is “indacouch.”’ They give more of a bodily high and are good if you need help falling asleep or just relaxing, whereas sativas are better if you’re doing something creative and need inspiration.”

Girl: *completely nonchalant* “Or if you want to have sex. Yep, that’s for us.”

(The three of us laughed for quite a while.)

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Kindness Is Just A Stoner’s Throw Away

, , , , , | Hopeless | July 18, 2017

(On my day off, I decide to head to the local pot dispensary to take advantage of their Fourth of July sale. When I pull into their parking lot, I see a group of four people — two men, a woman, and a child — standing around a car with the hood up. Note: it’s hovering around 100 degrees, a rarity in Oregon.)

Me: “Y’all need a jump?”

Older Man: “Nah, the car just overheated. We’re waiting for it to cool down a bit so we can open the radiator cap.”

Me: “Y’all got water?”

Older Man: “Yeah, we have some to put in there.”

Me: “Y’all got water for yourselves? It’s really hot out here.”

Woman: “No, we don’t.”

Me: “I always keep a six pack of bottled water in my trunk, for times like this.”

(I pop my trunk while the younger man, the woman, and the kid follow me over. The older man stays by their car. I pull three water bottles out of the pack, one for each of the three who seemed interested in the offer. They thank me, and I head into the dispensary.)

Woman: *overheard as I walk away* “See, Dad? I told you. Stoners are the nicest people!”

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Straining Your Patience

| Working | August 11, 2016

(I suffer from several chronic issues, one of which causes severe pain, which I manage with cannabis. I am at the dispensary trying to get a refill.)

Me: “Could I have one gram of [strain on special], please?”

Cashier: “Oh, we just ran out of grams; all we have is eighths left. But someone’s in the back right now filling more, if you want to wait just two minutes.”

(There is one other customer wanting for the same strain; he gets something else and I tell them I will wait. I take a seat and play on my phone, expecting them to call me up when they’re done. After a few minutes, I wander around the lobby and browse their non-consumable merchandise and read their posters, never going more than three feet from the counter. Finally, after 15-20 minutes, I approach them again.)

Me: “Hey, have you guys finished bagging up the gram bags of [strain on special] yet?”

Cashier: “Oh, we just ran out of grams, all we have is eighths left. I can recommend [more expensive strain] or [other more expensive strain].”

Me: “No, there’s someone in the back filling more bags, I was told it would only be a few minutes.”

Cashier: “Really?”

(She asks a coworker who just shrugs.)

Cashier: “No, sorry, there’s no more. Did you already pay for it?”

Me: “No, but I’ve been waiting….”

Cashier: “Okay, I can offer you [more expensive strain] or [other more expensive strain].”

Me: *frustrated* “I’ll just get [other, less-effective strain on special].”

(I still haven’t decided whether or not to complain to management over the fact that I waited close to 20 minutes for something they had no intention of giving me.)

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