I've never felt that I got a poor value here. "Value is quality/price, not price/quality, capeesh? The staff knows their product, a fine thing as the only thing I learned in my 30s about weed was which 7-Eleven parking lot was the best one to stand around by the phone and not look like a narc.
So I'll be the old lecherous man with bad hearing looking for "Whatta ya got that is cheap and will make me drool?"
Ah, the epicurean! I only get that piggy just before payday--so hush.
Have I ever had bad luck with the staff here? Yeah. A couple. They aren't there long; it's a well-run operation.
Let them put your info into their database; all they do with it is keep track of what you spend. I wish they would keep track of my likes and dislikes. Ah, but how many heads out there really grok accounting? They finally put a tag on me. Among other issues, I am profoundly dyscalculic. This they tell me after forty years of counting cash drawers. But, to our point here, the folks handle money carefully.
What else? The parking lot sucks something so vile, it is going to cost me the better part of a One Big One for the damage to my car--a small car. No clear driveway in or out; don't worry; you'll find it. The dumpster door? I'm not going to include the picture of my poor '05 Ford named Betty...but, just damn. Shall we talk about Snowpocalypse? No, we shant.
I lied. I'm still burned up and this was how long ago? Do not tell me a service wasn't available; I believe that you people make bank. I have an instinctive fear of breaking three thousand (and counting) dollars worth of electronics and trinkets I wear to function better than be a live Mr. MaGoo cartoon! Crawling probably might have been an option that I might have considered, but even I have limits to how hard I'll work to get high. Well, at least when I am cold, wet, and pissed off.
And..and...if someone doesn't fix the pothole that could eat a city car, at least out of shame...and ditto marking the driveway clearly, well, that's disrespecting your customers that your staff treats so well.
So, I'm torn on the stars that I am rolling around in my hand like Humphry Bogart's Captain Queed.
See, this is my regular joint. [Bang crash, rattle until stopped] Puns are why I am not invited to parties.
Seriously. There is so much to like, yet if I had cojones, I'd stalk the owners and tell the owners off. Oh, I could go in, cook a roasting chicken that's been beggin' for it--it is a mighty good munchie, too. And the Permanent Marker has turned my brains into Flamingo Dancers~with castanets~!
OK, so maybe the owners Do know what they are doing..?
Smart folk would head eastish on Orient. I'd go to the next small street. No parking on that, but if you make an immediate right, there is a little more sane parking area.
The smart loady checks what the daily special is online. That database I mentioned keeps track of a 3% discount based on your last purchase; use it or save it. Politics makes me use it the next visit. Come your birthday month, you get a 15% discount.
Their headgear is most excellent. It's local and hand-blown, for the most part. Which means you pay for quality. It's the esthetic of the whole store, product has always been quality. I plan to use that discount when mine comes sailing in. I always buy crap and regret it.
So, how's that for a schizophrenic review? I'm leaving it at 4, for all the good reasons I've mentioned. We will see. The suspension system is toast on Betty, but if I am going to plow a couple of grand into it because it hopelessly needs it---and all of my kvetches are not solved, I'll go shopping. I mean, there are five shops closer. I just don't want to give up the positives of this place.
I've gotta chicken to contend with. I'm sure I've got some pictures that I can add. read more