Read Part 5.

My layoff date approached, red jackets began to appear in thrift store windows around town (ouch), and I found myself sitting in a dark, shabby room covered in concrete dust - clearly the only habitable place in the general sea of construction going on inside. I was interviewing for a new dispensary’s ownership that got my resume from The Blacklist. “Gold” someone had called it. We knew some of the same people, shared some brand-building opinions and a desire for an open, feminine, inclusive ideal for the dispensary. I shook hands and agreed to an hourly rate until opening, upon which time a salary for myself and the people I brought into other key positions would go into effect. I walked out and just about danced all the way home. 

Do you ever wish you could just go back in time, not to prevent anything from happening necessarily, but to warn yourself? I probably would’ve just tapped myself on the shoulder and simply said, “Don’t dance yet.” 

But alas, as I danced down the street, “Finally,” I thought, “this is my chance to put a real dent in the binary!” This real-life chance became an ideal in my mind as well as the fire beneath my behind at “Pink” - fueled by tasks to build a team and model operations in a scalable way. 

“We want six more stores by next year!” ownership said. Promises and reassurances of plentiful funding flew. The first vendor meeting we had in the still-surrounded-by-construction room I interviewed in was going great, until the owner suddenly stood and smashed his fists on the table, perhaps as an intimidation or negotiating tactic. Whatever it was, it would be the first of many instances where I would experience this secondhand embarrassment, something I hadn’t dealt with from even the grossly unpopular leaders at “Red.” 

I’d like to believe he could tell I lost a little bit of respect for him that day. I mean, everyone's face said it - “Huh?” He needed to realize this wasn’t pre-rec days anymore, plus people like him (rich real estate family) in my mind had no real place in “the trap” anyway, no matter the glory stories of association. Regardless, I could not and refused to babysit this man. I remember I was sent to work from home after that for the rest of the day, but I didn’t mind. Besides, I needed to bring in my superstar buyer and I needed to do so quickly. 

I had plenty of options between people I had worked with before, but I knew I needed someone I trusted, someone savvy but also impassioned, someone younger and hungry like me. Someone who could turn on the sales, finesse a more profitable partnership, and negotiate like a gangster at the drop of a hat in a vendor meeting. Chiefly focused on applying everything I had learned from Red about running multiple dispensaries at once to make this the single perfectly scalable model of my dreams, I had a unique opportunity to experiment in a way I could not at my corporate position at Red. How exciting it was to know I would soon manage a back of house team of my own and advocate for budtenders, too! Seeing policies in action, studying their effectiveness in real-time, identifying budtender selling styles and contributions to retail amongst the competitive atmosphere. Delicious! If I sound like a nerd, that’s because I am.

One of my first nerdy tasks was to read and analyze the application with which the license was awarded, then make a pitch/visual deck for marketing, build the core operations team to align processes with obligations detailed in said application, assist in hiring and reaching out to influencers, as well as answering one-off requests for quotes for opening day celebrations. This last part was surprisingly challenging, due to marching bands and basically all other entertainment not wanting to even be associated with cannabis. Here in California? How could this still be the case? Wasn’t our legal cannabis money still as good as anyone else’s? Apparently not, nor worth the danger of association; and so, case after case, no after no, excuse after excuse…you could say it was sometimes even rage-inducing!

I felt this rage before, at a film industry warehouse party with Everclear punch I remember attending with a screenwriting cousin of mine when I was 20 (during pre-rec times). The general tone of the party painted “weed” as uncouth, lazy, embarrassing, and looked down upon, yet begrudgingly tolerated. I had, of course, rolled my own blunts for the occasion, and you would probably not be too shocked at how many people snuck out of their respective circles to score a few hits, shortly after publicly expressing disdain and superiority within said circles. I still shared with them anyway, sipped my punch and did not do the cocaine that was offered to me in return. I let them feel the irony of my surprise rejection, and hoped they’d not talk so poorly of stuff they secretly enjoyed in future, and, if they did, may they relive the silent sting of their own cognitive dissonance. 

It’s like a mistress or something. So, I’m invited but you don’t accept me? You want to see me, but not hold my hand in public? You’re ashamed of me, but not your own contradictions? Invigorated by anger within an already passionate industry, a resurgence came over me to perfect the vision deck. 

If there is one thing I can do, it’s dream a BIG dream. So, feeling as motivated as Elle Woods in line at the computer store after Vivian’s “costume party,” I included all my pink hopes and dreams in the deck, a clear vision of a new dispensary meant to challenge the trap/corporate binary. Some of which included:

• Creative subscription boxes. Featuring a curation idea/model I still believe in very much, that would tie-in to things like a better customer loyalty program and sell-through. 

• An idea to acquire and turn the nearby Cannabis Cafe into a consumption-legal, concept store/activation space a la Yves Saint Laurent in Beverly Hills (I had worked as the rose girl there the preceding Valentine’s Day, and have continued to think cannabis deserves that level of divine decadence ever since). This would also allow us to capitalize on the novelty of being the best place to take those needing an intro for the very first time. For me, this serves as part of a larger plan to destigmatize cannabis. If you can’t beat ‘em, become their favorite meal or their favorite book they just can’t put down. As cheesy as it sounds, be the song they dance to when no one’s watching. This could perhaps be an answer to the awkward cannabis marketing event problem, I figured, at least until event planning for cannabis is kinder. 

• A rewards program to go farther than just blanket in-store discounts and FTP referral deals. One which would tie-in to invites to exclusive drops and other brand partnership events. 

• A pre-order model for special brand partners’ limited edition/small batch curations inspired by the structure used in the video game industry.

• Brand partnership guidelines structured by a diversified portfolio of marketing agreements based on KPI’s and informed strategy by product category and developing customer base. 

• A mock-up of expected in-store product life cycles to inform display and pricing strategy as well as purchasing practices. 

Part of the inclusivity detailed in my deck was specifically in response to the significance of the location to the local trans community, as mentioned in another unofficial promise made within the original application. In my advocacy to actually serve their needs and not simply queer-bait, I aimed to make “Pink” more than a dispensary; rather it would be a shelter of sorts from the outside world. A world that slaps a staggeringly low life expectancy on trans people. Not in my house! In my house, any trans person can safely and comfortably live their best life - all the while discovering how cannabis can enhance or balance it out. 

Why should brands care? Trust is at the core of every return customer, and securing the trust of a growing demographic is key to setting up brand longevity. What makes someone feel more comfortable in a store than seeing themselves genuinely represented in the product offerings? So, in the beginning of influencer talks, I got a prominent yet polarizing figure in the trans community to not only want to make an appearance at the opening day celebration we never had, but to also do business with Pink as a preferred partnership (with an exclusive agreement and price point) of their cannabis line. What luck!, I thought. This was a perfect way to begin to show up for this part of our commitment to the West Hollywood Trans community. 

It didn’t matter though. Nothing was done. My deck was simply complimented, no explanation was given, and I was simply told to drop it. But, of course, instead of seeing the red flag in this, I chose to focus on the initiative for adequate representation of black-owned cannabusinesses the owner’s assistant seemed to be more focused on as a pet project. This was curious to me, however, why was I assigned to work on this in the first place? Why tell someone to do a job you don’t actually want done? 

I would soon learn that this practice is an all-too-common tactic used in the workplace, industry aside. You know, like when companies tell you “we’re a family” - this is not true and is meant to press people who express a perceived weakness in believing such a thing to be true or possible into further exploitation. 

My parent’s company of over 25 years featured both contract and staff employees with an average of 5+ years before moving to contract, and they didn’t commonly refer to sign shares as a “family.” You know why? Because if you care for your employees, you do not lie to them like that. I guarantee you, as hard as it can be, they will end up respecting you more and working for you longer. Learn from those who can’t change, don’t become them. 

Come back tomorrow for untouchably unqualified leaders, soft openings, the worst customers you’ve ever seen and a trash can for an HR department!