Cannabis delivery in Los Angeles has seen many phases over the past few years. Before 2018, it was an entirely different landscape. There were dozens of blips on the map for services that specialized in quality product, speedy delivery, or customer service. For my first gig, I worked for a company with very high-quality product. Often my bosses brought guns to work. Strangely, it made us feel safe, surrounded with mountains of cash and weed. Our job, the delivery drivers, was to make the weed mountain smaller, and the money mountain taller, by just dropping off bags, picking up money, and bringing it back to the trap. Needless to say, vibes were always off, and everything was cash only.
I found a new company, one that focused on customer service. The company was very trusting of its “Caregivers.” I slept with about $4500 worth of money and product next to my bed every night. The deal with the owner was, if I could manage this amount of money and weed for an extended period, I’d earn a sizable percent of every order I sold. I moved to a good neighborhood. Then I got a dog, Trinity, and found out very quickly that she loves going on the road with me. We met celebrities. People you never knew smoked, and people you always hoped smoked. I’ll never forget the way (NAME REDACTED) looked the moment I recognized her, when she sent me her Venmo and I gasped at her name. She turned beet red and was incredibly sweet.
Then, legalization happened to cannabis. And with it came cannabis delivery.
Everyone and their cousin started delivering cannabis. Dozens of competitors became hundreds of competitors, right around the corner. They promised incredible speedy First Time Patient BOGO Free Swag Deals and customers, true to form in any emerging market, sampled everything, from everywhere. We lost regular customers to companies undercutting us by 35-50%, selling product untested and unregulated by California. At this point, I was managing the underground company, and sleeping in a bed next to a garage filled with about $75,000 worth of product, and about $30,000 sleeping next to various members of the delivery team across LA. Living the trap life became exhausting. I wanted something legit in the industry or nothin’.
I parted ways with the company and decided to focus my attention on why I moved here: to write, act, perform stand up, shoot sketches, films, and create, recklessly and powerfully and passionately create.
When COVID-19 hit, the city shut down. Delivery became the standard.
Auditions dried up. Central Casting stopped calling. All stand-up was shut down or moved online. I worked food delivery for two of the gig economy food apps. I found risky work deep in the black market. Times got tough. $1200 stimulus didn’t get far. My landlord was (illegally) suing me for unpaid rent. I gave everything to my lawyer and thought about packing up, moving in with my folks in Florida, like it was 2009 all over again when I partied out of college (Go Gators). Washed up Drey, coming back with his tail between his legs. That’s when I found a tweet from The Higher Path, and they were looking for delivery drivers.
For my interview I wore a ripped denim jacket that looked super punk rock I had used for delivery for years, and my lucky pink bandana around my head. Every day that followed I thought I didn’t get the job. Six grueling days later I got an email, scheduled myself for training, and got back on the road. Like Batman, coming out of retirement because Gotham needs him for one last mission: to deliver ganja.
Initially, I was hired simply as a driver for the budtender/deliverers. Which was very fun. I got to meet some of the nicest, funniest, most charming and talented and beautifully interesting people in my life. Everyone has been so freaking friendly and helpful and knowledgeable about the industry and the company and the customers, it easily rubs off. Soon I was on the road by myself, driving and delivering, sans budtender, utilizing all of the tools the spectacular team at THP had taught me, meeting customers and figuring out my place in the rushing rapid flow of honest, legal dispensary work, with some tremendous people.
The work, as a member of the cannabis community, is exhilarating.
THP has a product list that blows away any company I’ve ever worked with. The whole staff is far and beyond comparison when it comes to knowing what they’re selling and to whom they’re serving in the community. I often sit in awe, waiting for deliveries to come in, as Mason helps a gentleman with sleep issues get exactly what he needs, or when Alex remembers a customer’s face, even with a mask on, and hooks her up with 10% off for loyalty points.
I’m building relationships with customers, asking them what they like, what they don’t like, hearing things like “Don’t sleep on the un-infused Jeeters” and “Big Pete’s has a smoother high than Dr. Norms,” information like this has been passed along by me to many more.
I know when I see good things working right. Along with being able to take debit payments, a dream for cannabis delivery prior to 2018, THP offers contactless payments through PayTender, electronically sending money without needing a card or cash. Because of COVID, the times have changed. Necessity compelled ingenuity and we, the providers of this essential service, are primed for the future of cannabis delivery now more than ever.
Our delivery technology is on the same level as vastly powerful popular delivery apps. There’s so much it can do, and THP’s only scratched the surface of its potential. Imagine same-day cannabis delivery on a timeline similar to ordering food on Postmates. Imagine setting up a future delivery and getting it within 30 minutes of its scheduled arrival. Now picture having a mispacked product delivered, and instantly corrected. Stop imagining, we’re here.
For our friends and customers, we’re ready.
