If you’ve spent any time in the weed industry, you’ve met at least five of these people. Maybe you are one. And that’s okay—we love you for it.

The cannabis world is full of characters. From the spreadsheet warriors tracking every last gram to the dab wizards who treat terpene profiles like fine wine, this industry attracts a very specific (and spectacularly chaotic) mix of people. It’s what makes it beautiful. And a little unhinged.

This list is a lovingly judgmental breakdown of the most recognisable personality types you’ll find behind the scenes, on the floor, or in the back room, getting surprisingly emotional about soil microbes. Some are lifers. Some just showed up last week with a podcast and a dream. All of them are high in their own special way.

Let’s meet the crew.

The Chill Philosopher

Every shop has one. The person who turns a joint into a TED Talk and a Tuesday shift into an out-of-body experience. You came in for a pre-roll and left wondering if your chakras are aligned.

They drift through the dispensary or float around the grow, hoodie sleeves dusted in kief, talking to the plants like they’re old friends. There’s always a mug of lukewarm yerba mate within reach. They might not clock in on time, but they will remind you that time is a social construct. Their third eye is cracked all the way open, and they definitely own a copy of Be Here Now with a rolling paper stuck inside.

Mid-shift, they’ll drop a gem like, “What if we’re the ones getting smoked?” then nod slowly as if they just solved something ancient. Might quote Alan Watts. Probably thinks the plants are listening. Honestly? They might be right.

The Spreadsheet Stoner

Every chaotic cannabis company is secretly held together by this one person—and their 47 colour-coded Excel sheets. They’re high but organised. They’ve got a label maker in their backpack and a mild addiction to Google Calendar.

You’ll find them behind the scenes, quietly running the show from their fortress of folders. Inventory? Tracked. Compliance? Handled. Staff schedule? Already sent in Slack with emojis. They’re the kind of person who names a file “budged2BUDGET” and actually knows what it means.

They might be stoned, but their formulas are fire. They’ve got conditional formatting set up for fun. They speak fluent SKU and get personally offended by inconsistent naming conventions. Someone once called them “just a stoner with a laptop,” and they took it as a compliment.

If they ever quit, the entire business would fall apart in 48 hours. Maybe less.

The Weedfluencer

They don’t work in weed—they are weed. At least, according to their Insta bio. You’ll spot them by the cloud of perfume, ring light glow, and the five competing cannabis brands they’re wearing at once. Think “walking dispensary mannequin” with a vape in one hand and a GoPro in the other.

They exist in a parallel timeline where golden hour is eternal, and every bong rip is content. You’ll find them at product launches, trade shows, or filming 17 takes of a hotbox video in the parking lot. They know their angles in grow lighting and will ask the trimmers to move so they can get “the shot.” Every shift starts with, “Wait, let me boomerang this.”

They’ve got a stash of unreleased gummies, five active discount codes, and a brand deal with a rolling tray company you’ve never heard of. Are they technically on the payroll? Unclear. Are they tagging your dispensary in everything they post? Absolutely.

And yes—if you light the joint before they’re filming, they will make you redo it.

The Dab Scientist

They treat their dab rig like a sacred relic and their terpenes like a thesis project. You’re just trying to get a little high—they’re trying to unlock the molecular secrets of limonene.

You’ll find them hunched over lab equipment, wielding a dab tool like a precision instrument, or breaking down the differences between hydrocarbon and solventless extraction like it’s bedtime gossip. Their workstation smells like a botanical garden and a chemistry final. They don’t trust distillate; they don’t speak in milligrams—they speak in microns.

They’ve got a notebook full of strain data, a torch that could solder a car, and strong opinions about decarboxylation. Very strong opinions. Ask them what their favourite concentrate is and prepare for a 20-minute monologue that starts with “Well, it depends on the cultivar…”

They’ve said “terpenes” at least 14 times before noon and once referred to their banger’s heat retention as “crucial to the experience.” Honestly? They’re not wrong. You just wish they’d pass the dab already.

The Grumpy Grower 

Nobody’s ever seen him smile. He might not even have a last name. But somehow—somehow—his flower is flawless every single time.

You’ll catch glimpses of him in the back, lurking in the grow like a cryptid with a hose. Doesn’t talk much, doesn’t want to talk much. When he does speak, it’s usually to say something like, “you’re overwatering that” or “turn that damn light off.” The man communicates in grunts, nods, and immaculate canopy structure.

That is, of course, until you’ve earned it. Stick around long enough, and you might just catch him talking about soil amendments like poetry or showing you a photo of his cat in a tiny Halloween costume.

He’s been doing this since before you were allowed to talk about weed on the internet, and he does not care about your new app or your “branding strategy.” Meetings? He’s allergic. Corporate jargon? Makes him break out in hives. He’s there to grow, not to network.

You’ll find him in the depths of the cultivation room; sleeves rolled up, boots dusty, probably wearing socks with puppies on them. No, you’re not allowed to ask about them. Yes, they’re his favourite pair.

You know you’ve met the Grumpy Grower when you’ve worked with him for three months and still don’t know his full name—but everyone refers to him with deep reverence, like a local myth. And somehow… the plants love him. One day, if you play your cards right, he’ll invite you over to smoke his personal stash and meet his wife, who absolutely bakes. 

You still won’t be allowed to overwater anything, but he’ll start calling you “kid.”

The Empathic Plug

They’re not just selling you weed—they’re selling you healing. You came in for a quick eighth, and now you’re talking about your childhood. Somehow, it just… happened.

This is the person who remembers your dog’s name, your favourite edible, and that one time you said gummies made you anxious, so they gently steered you toward a calming tincture instead. They radiate cosy herbal tea energy and always smell faintly like lavender and hash.

You’ll find them on the floor of a dispensary, leaning across the counter with genuine eye contact and a voice that could guide a meditation app. They give off major “cannabis fairy godparent” vibes, and they’ve got a product rec for every situation. “My cousin’s boyfriend’s uncle tried this one and said it cured his sleep issues and helped his plantar fasciitis.” You believe them. You’d trust them with your life.

They’ve probably cried at work. Not because they’re stressed—because someone else was. And yes, they will slip you a little sample because you “just looked like you needed it today.”

The Industry Lifer

They’ve seen it all. Smoked it all. Been raided, regulated, and reborn more times than the rest of us have updated our resumes. They’re part myth, part mentor, part menace—and they’ve got a story for everything.

This is the person who’s been in the game since Prop 215—maybe even since the ziplock days. They’ve worked in every role: trimmer, delivery driver, grower, buyer, founder, consultant, and vague guy in the back who definitely doesn’t work here but still yells about margins. These days, they’re either running the whole operation or “stepping back to focus on passion projects,” which somehow still means they’re in everyone’s business.

They don’t just think they know better—they do know better, and they’ll remind you before you’ve had your first break. That SOP you made last week? They did it by hand in ’08. That terp profile you’re hyped about? They helped breed it in a garage in Mendocino with a guy named Fish. You haven’t lived until you’ve been cornered for a 30-minute monologue that starts with “back when it was all unregulated…” and ends with either a felony, a festival, or a footnote about how the strain you love “used to hit way harder.”

They’ve got opinions, war stories, and probably a laminated copy of an old High Times cover they were almost on. And while they may roast your entire workflow over a blunt, they’ve earned the right. Just don’t ask them to use your CRM system—they’ll short-circuit.

The Hustle Bro

He calls weed “the product.” He calls you “boss.” He wakes up at 4:00 a.m. to dry brush his skin before cold plunging into a horse trough behind his rental in Topanga. 

The Hustle Bro showed up sometime after 2018, probably with a background in tech, beverage marketing, or whatever that one crypto startup was. He’s never touched a trim bin in his life, but he’s launching a line of infused protein bars and definitely owns at least one drone. He’s absolutely pitched a cannabis app called “Weedly.” Twice.  

The Hustle Bro is clean-cut, chiselled, and somehow always smells like expensive sage. He drinks mushroom coffee, eats vitamins by the fistful, and documents his morning routine like it’s a sacred ritual. One hand holds a perfectly rolled joint for “vibes,” the other’s refreshing LinkedIn on a screen that’s way too bright. You’ll spot him by the branded hoodie, suspiciously clean sneakers, and the aura of someone who’s read The 4-Hour Workweek too many times.

He once referred to weed as “an emerging space in the lifestyle sector” and dreams in pitch decks. He refers to budtenders as “frontline educators” and thinks “community” is something you build with discount codes and email funnels. He’s here to scale—and if he says “disrupt the market” one more time, the Grumpy Grower might actually snap.

He signs off every email with “Let’s build” and thinks he discovered THC beverages. And yet… somehow? He’s closing deals left and right—daily, without fail, and with intense eye contact. You kinda hate how good he is at it. 

Say what you will—The Hustle Bro will probably exit the industry with a yacht and a cannabis NFT collection you’ll be laughing about for years. You might not trust him with your stash, but he will build a brand from scratch and make a million before the rest of us finish our shift.

Conclusion

The weed industry is a strange, beautiful ecosystem held together by heady debates, immaculate spreadsheets, and people named Dustyn with a y. Whether you’re here for the plant, the people, or the vibes, chances are you’ve crossed paths with at least a few of these characters—and if you haven’t yet… just wait. They’re coming. Probably with a dab rig or a pitch deck in hand.

Love ’em or roast ’em; these personality types are part of what makes working in weed so weirdly wonderful. And let’s be real: we’re all just different strains of the same plant, trying to bloom in a highly regulated grow room of life.

So—how many of these people have you met? Did we miss your favourite cannabis character? Drop your fave weed coworker archetype in the comments (extra points if they have a vape chain and a crystal collection).