I work in a medical cannabis dispensary. This industry is a whole other universe, often filled with terminology that the average person may not be aware of. Whether someone knows the right terms or not, we are usually pretty good at figuring out what someone wants when we ask questions or seek clarification.

A patient/customer walks up to me at the counter to place her order.

Me: “Welcome to [Dispensary]. What can I help you find?”

Customer: “I need oil.”

Me: “Okay. Do you mean RSO?”

Customer: “No. Oil.”

Me: “Do you mean a vape cartridge? Those are made of oil.”

Customer: “No. Oil!”

Me: “Could you describe how you consume it? That could point us in the right direction.”

Customer: *Starting to look around the store at our empty packaging displays.* “The box for it is around here somewhere. It’s oil.”

Me: “Is it RSO Capsules? I’m sorry, but those items I mentioned are pretty much the only things that would be considered oil. If you could give me more information, like how you consume it, I could narrow it down more.”

At this point, I’ve pulled a coworker over who has a similar interaction with the woman and is just as confused as I am.

She continues to say she’s looking for oil while still looking around for the packaging she was referring to. She finally finds it and brings it over to me.

Customer: “Here it is. The oil I want.”

Me: “Oh, that’s called a tincture.”

Customer: “Well, I call it oil.”

Me: “That’s fine, but it is called a tincture. Just wanted to let you know for the future when you’re shopping for it again. I can write that down for you if you’d like. Or, if you describe it as “that liquid with the dropper that you put under your tongue,” employees will be able to understand what you’re looking for.”

Customer: “I’m going to call it oil because that’s what I call it.”

Me: “Okay. But just so you know, you’ll have to have this conversation again the next time you’re shopping for it. It really does help us to find the right product for you if you use the proper terminology or are able to describe how you consume it.”

We have finished the transaction by this point.

Customer: “It’s oil.” *Walks away with her purchase.*

I work in a recreational cannabis dispensary, and we have to abide by long, exhaustive lists of regulations and laws in order to maintain our license. There is a daily purchase limit/allotment per person, and that is set at the state level. This limit in MA is the same as several other states that have legalized, but less than others, including a couple of neighboring states. The relevant part of the limit discussion here is that one can only purchase an ounce total of cannabis flower products, loose, or rolled.

A man comes in and has a pre-order waiting for him.

Customer: “Hi! I have a pre-order, but I’d like to add some things to it. Your website wouldn’t let me.”

Coworker: “Perfect, let me grab that for you, and then we can discuss additions.” (pauses, looks at order) “Oh, I’m sorry, sir. The reason that the site stopped you from adding more items is because you’ve ordered an ounce of flower. That’s your max allotment for today, and we can’t sell you anything else.”

Customer: “Limit?”

Coworker: “Yes, sir. You can only buy one ounce of flower per day or some combination equal to an ounce of other products.”

Customer: “Oh that’s just some silly suggestion. I’m an old pro, it’s okay.”

Coworker: “No, sir, I really can’t…”

Customer: “What do you mean, you can’t?”

Me: *Using my knowledgeable-but-stern voice:* “It’s codified into law, sir. We are regulated to within an inch of our lives. It’s not a suggestion, it’s a genuine hard limit. The register will not even let him add another product unless you change it out to a lower amount.”

Customer: *Yelling now.* “I don’t want a lower amount! I want my ounce, plus [edible products]! This is ridiculous! I can get [higher limit amount] in [nearby state]! There’s a store right up my street!”

Another customer, who had been browsing in the background, pipes up, saving myself and my coworker from asking the question we were all thinking:

Other Customer: “Then why didn’t you get it there?!”

Customer: “Because it’d cost me more than twice as much!”

Said neighboring state legalized several years after Massachusetts, so their market is still new and having logistical issues, and their prices aren’t ideal or comparable yet.

Other Customer: “Then come back tomorrow and you’ll still save money! Shut up and buy your weed, you’re breaking the stoner code by having such a bad vibe!”

Customer: “You kids and your d*** vibes!”

Other Customer: “Did you just ‘you kids’ me in the weed store? You gonna tell us all about the bricks you peeled apart with all the seeds and stems that cost $10 a pound, like those ‘ten miles to school, uphill and barefoot in the snow both ways” stories? Tell us to get off your lawn with a doobie in your mouth?”

The OG customer stammers, then closes his mouth. He then pulls out a wad of bills, practically tosses them at my coworker, then stalks off with his ounce, but not before the following parting act:

Customer: “Here’s your VIBE!” *Sticks up middle finger.*

Which allowed our hero to fire off one more joke:

Other Customer: “Don’t get too high, we wouldn’t want you to start being pleasant to be around!”

I work in a cannabis dispensary in a medical-only state. We recently opened in what used to be a bank. There has not been a bank in the building for quite some time, and the building itself was empty well before we opened. A lot of people still come here thinking it’s a bank despite the fact that the dispensary’s name is all over the building. We’re used to having to explain this to people, and it’s never been an issue.

A man walks up to the building and is greeted by security at the door.

Security: “Can I see your medical ID, please?”

Customer: “I just need to get some money.”

Security: “I can’t let you in without seeing your ID.”

Customer: “Since when do banks require ID to enter? Let me in so I can get my money!”

Security: “Sir, this isn’t a bank. It’s a dispensary, and I can’t let you in without a valid Medical ID.”

Customer: “That’s bulls***. Let me in now or I’ll call the police!”

Security calls me to the front and explains what is going on.

Me: “Sir, as security has explained to you, we are not a bank. The bank that used to be here is now down the street. You will have to go there.”

Customer: “Do you have an ATM I can use?”

Me: “Only if you have a medical cannabis card from the state and plan on doing business here.”

Customer: “That’s stupid! Let me use the ATM!”

Me: “No. Please leave.”

Customer: “I’m calling the police! You can’t keep me from coming inside! That’s illegal!”

Me: “The police have no power here, sir. You’ll have to call the department of health, but best of luck with that.”

We closed the door on the fuming man. He tugged on the locked door a few times before stomping away. We never did hear from the department of health or police on that incident, so either he never called them or the conversation didn’t go his way.

I managed a dispensary for a bit while the health crisis canceled college. We had this one patient, an old white lady who constantly called on the phone to ask for deals. We had daily deals that never changed — all the same on the same day of the week.

I told this lady that I would not substitute a deal for her. She didn’t like that. She instantly became a meaner person on every call thereafter.

The OWNER delivered to her place to make sure everyone was all good. Keep in mind, I didn’t ever see customers in person. I sat at a computer doing the orders and occasionally filling them in-house for our drivers to take.

I got another call from the lady. She started with a rant about the rude Islamic Irani who delivered to her house. (She was talking about the owner, a mostly white-passing man with a Japanese mother.)

Lady: “I want [White Coworker] to deliver to me, instead! And you didn’t have [Edibles], which are my favorite, so I want two of the cheaper ones for the price of one of the bigger ones!”

Still playing the kind part, I asked to place her on hold while I spoke to someone with more authority.

Lady: “You liar! I don’t like the way you’re speaking to me!”

And I was done.

Me: “Sorry, I am no longer offering you any deal outside of our daily deals. You can pick one of those or pay full price. I do not appreciate your tone, and I will not let you speak to me this way.”

Lady: “You know I’m spending over $100, right?”

Cue eye-roll.

Lady: “You guys haven’t stocked this in weeks! This isn’t good customer service! I won’t be placing my order.”

Me: “Okay. Goodbye.”

And with the owner in the room, I blocked her number and got rid of her account. Be rude, you don’t get your weed. Simple.

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