At the risk of sounding un-American, I’m going to complain about choices—too many of them. Aren’t we taught that freedom to choose is sacred? And while I agree that choosing our leaders is great (even if the options aren’t), sometimes the abundance of choices becomes overwhelming. This is especially true in cannabis dispensaries.
I walked into my local store to find 16 variations of chocolate edibles. How does one pick between blueberry, mint, or taffy? Even as someone with preferences, I’ve often found myself traveling to dispensaries that don’t carry my favorite brands. It reminds me of my childhood, when Coors beer wasn’t available east of the Mississippi. The same issue of distribution affects today’s cannabis products—some are only found in certain states or stores.
The challenge isn’t just distribution. It’s the overwhelming number of options. I once forgot my ID, so my non-smoking wife had to shop for me. I gave her specific instructions, but she was bombarded with names like Blue Raspberry Lime, Mystery, and Elderberries. “Just pick what offends you least,” I told her. Is this the market we want—one where flavor is king but information is scarce?
The problem is that many products emphasize flavor, which has little impact on the actual cannabis experience. An edible is in your mouth for mere minutes, but its effects linger for hours. Yet flavor drives 80% of the decision-making. Are we catering to consumer demand, or is marketing shaping it?
In moments like these, I miss my old dealer. He’d show up monthly with a backpack full of mason jars—no overwhelming choices, just great pot. When my state legalized cannabis, my dealer disappeared, and I embraced dispensaries like a kid in a candy store. But over time, I realized I only needed a few solid options, and all the extras just complicated things.
So here’s my paradoxical conclusion: Is there anything more American than having an abundance of choices—and complaining about it?
