When you think "drug dealer," you might imagine someone shrouded in darkness, hanging out in an alley. The life of the 21st century (legal) pot delivery-person is nothing like that.
I recently shadowed a driver for Eaze, a medicinal marijuana delivery startup that has been dubbed the "Uber of weed." Similar to how Postmates ferries food from restaurants to hungry customers, Eaze licenses its technology to dispensaries across California so they can get cannabis in the hands of patients. The company does not grow or distribute marijuana, it just provides a technology platform allowing pot shops to orchestrate deliveries.
The drivers are also employed by the dispensaries, not Eaze.
My run-of-the-mill shift felt no more exciting than the time I shadowed a Postmates courier. It felt corporate. It felt very "Silicon Valley." And it was representative of a changing marijuana industry — one that's risen from a seedy black market to a fast-growing, $5.4 billion business.
The shift starts on a sunny Friday afternoon, when Makayla, an Eaze driver and 21-year-old art student, picks me up from the curb outside a Berkeley, California, public transit station.
On our first delivery, we pull up to a house in South Berkeley where three young people talk and laugh in the driveway. When they spot us, a bearded man in a graphic tee approaches with a nervous smile.
Makayla, who wears streaks of silver in her braids, leaps out of the vehicle with a small white paper bag in hand.
"Hello, how are you?" she says. After verifying the man's face matches the photo on his ID, Mikayla swaps the bag — which contains $10 worth of marijuana — for cash. He examines its contents and thanks her.
Makayla returns to the vehicle, and we're on our way to make the next drop-off. Her phone chimes as the orders queue up, and I quickly learn how un-glamorous the life of a legal weed delivery-person really is.
The modern-day (legal) drug dealer
Like many college students her age, Makayla needed a job. She wanted to have flexible hours, given her unpredictable class schedule. Ideally, the gig would pay better than a barista job.
Eaze seemed like an ideal solution, and the requirements are relatively slim. You have to be over the age of 21, submit to a criminal background check, and present a clean driving record.
Now she works four eight-hour shifts a week and makes her own schedule. Drivers earn between $16 and $24 an hour and keep 100% of the tips (Makayla tells me about one in four patients tip, and being a woman helps bring in more money than her male coworkers rake in).
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She makes between 20 and 40 deliveries per shift, and goes through a tank of gas on each one. On slow nights, she can pull into a parking lot and work on sociology or biology homework while she awaits an order.
Another perk? The job gives Makayla an excuse to familiarize herself with the product catalog. Years ago, when she worked at a shoe store, she liked to try on the shoes so she could advise her customers on which ones were comfortable. The same logic applies here.
"You can't sell anything if you haven't tried it yourself," Makayla says. "Because your patients are going to ask you, 'Okay, what do you think about this?' And you don't want to lie to them. It's best to try it."
What a typical shift is like
On this particular shift, there's no time for homework. We zoom across Berkeley — a can of Red Bull rattling in the cup holder — making one delivery after the next.
The clientele is mostly male and under the age of 30, though Makayla (who corrects me every time I called the patients "customers") says they do vary. We deliver to apartment complexes in urban neighborhoods, tree-lined suburbs, and off-campus housing near UC Berkeley.
On a street lined with houses and yards, Makayla greets a young man with a mop of brown hair. He mumbles something about there being a "thing" with his ID, giving an explanation I don't catch from the car.
Moments later, she returns with the bag of marijuana still in hand. The patient was clearly Caucasian, but the photo on his ID — which Eaze drivers can preview in the app — showed an Asian man.
He's not the first to try to pull the wool over Makayla's eyes. She says the Eaze app makes it easy enough for her to verify identifications and uphold the dispensaries' integrity. It also keeps her safe.
Driving around the city carrying marijuana might seem scary for a woman of her petite stature, or anyone for that matter. Say a customer spots a driver who delivered his weed once. He might follow the driver to her car and attempt to rob her supply. For this reason, a spokesperson for Eaze asked we not disclose some of the logistics around the transaction, such as how the product is transported.
Makayla takes comfort in knowing the GPS-enabled Eaze app keeps her manager informed of her location at all times. Should a patient try anything, their information is also available.
Making the green
Beyond the one hiccup, the shift goes without incident. In fact, you might say it was dull.
Makayla typically listens to throwback tunes on the ride. Unlike driving for Uber or Lyft, there's no one to keep you company between point A and point B. Interactions with the patients last for seconds.
She doesn't seem to mind. Makayla appreciates the flexibility the job provides, and says her favorite part is when customers recognize her and ask how she's doing.
As the stigma around the legal marijuana industry dissipates, Makayla has no trouble telling her parents what she does or including the gig on a résumé. There's no shame in being a weed delivery-person.
"It's the best job I've ever had," she says.
