Dont Ask About Hybrids

Every Other F***ing Day at a Dispensary

No, actually, every waking hour you're open, which also happens to be every day. If you're a budtender, you'll answer one question until perpetuity. One damn question until you just want to scream. It's the question that nearly drove me insane…

They barge in, all shouty and ill-tempered, snapping off:
“What's Indica, Sativa, and Hybrid?”

I always politely reply and generally throw in a good anecdote or two—like Indica, in the couch, that kind of cheesy stuff. And it's all good, I guess. After hearing myself say it out loud, it's not that bad. I'm not bitter about selling people the dank. But it's just one part of that question, one-third of it, that gets my blood boiling.

The one question—well, the partial question—that sometimes makes me think humanity is losing, and cannabis isn't helping:
What's Hybrid?
What's hybrid? Are you f***ing kidding me!?

Now for some quick context: yes, I know what you're thinking… Did this asshole even really bother explaining Indica and Sativa? Was it all just BS?

Believe me, if this article were about the most-asked question in general—the "what is that?" game—well, it's cannabis. And if I sit here and explain "the what's" to you readers, we'll be here 'til death do us part.

But seriously, I'm talking about just the question of hybrid. And I guess that's really more a question about language. If we're tracing the root issue here, it's probably something to do with schooling because the word "hybrid"—just like words such as elusive, mysterious, or same—shouldn't be that hard to grasp.

This ignorance, though, isn't limited to words. Whole phrases can be elusive to some—like wait in line or mysterious like an exit. And some people are elitist, even though deep down, they know they're the same as everybody else.

Some will say, "It's not their fault," or "Cut them some slack." And be sure, I never belittle anyone in a retail setting for their wit or wallet. Good customer service is good customer service. Hard for some, but inherently difficult? No. Good service and good manners should be more common in all of us.

But going back to our offenders' hybrid attacks, perhaps it's not the lack of knowledge on the definition of hybrid that offends me. It's their tone. Their dreary, snarky, loud, or mumbly, unapologetically rude tone. Many people use this as their secret weapon, as if believing that everyone else in the room is either too stupid to pick up on it or too unwilling to call them out.

I could probably throw it right back at them, but I'm no mime, and that would go against my belief in helping the customer to the end. This mantra has its limits, of course. You can't be hateful or mean to me, my colleagues or fellow patrons, and you can't be violent. Otherwise, I get you. To ask takes more guts than not asking, and anyone who's somebody can agree with that.

We budtenders are here to help you get high or medicated, and that's that. Just know that next time you're asking every question under the sun, be sure to leave a good tip. Or at least smile—it makes the experience more fun.

Cheers!

Steven Luthy