Three 12 plus hour days on the job and I’m pooped. The days are long, but I love what I’m doing. When I arrive in the morning, and the shop manager lets me in, I’m blasted in the face by a wonderful aroma of cannabis. Many people despise the scent of the flowers, but I think they smell amazing.
I have been bud tending and making deliveries, which is the bulk of my workload, and yesterday I filled at least 30 pre-rolls up. I love rolling joints and its my preferred method of medicating, so that was fun.
After cleaning and grinding two to three ounces of Skywalker, I was sitting there with a big tray and a massive mound of freshly ground top shelf bud. It was a pleasant way to spend downtime. After that and my previous experience of quite possibly thousands of joints, I think it’s safe to say I’m an expert joint roller now (maybe not quite Tony Greenhand, but pretty damn good).
The majority of the patients the collective I volunteer at serve, are older than me (36), old enough to be my parents and grand parents. These are normal (whatever that is) regular people that one wouldn’t associate cannabis with. Many are sick and suffer from diseases and/or disabilities. It’s sad to see, but it brings me joy helping people obtain safe access to cannabis for their particular needs, whether it’s for med. or rec. purposes.
This is only the beginning, and I look to a future in this field. I’m eager to see where the city’s in the high desert are going to go next year as the state gears up for recreational sales. I’m hoping they will come around, with the help of a lot of nudging, and allow farms and other businesses to provide for the already booming industry that’s just waiting to explode. I would love to get into growing.
Oh, hamburgers *Butters Stotch voice*