The Art of the Deal

I don’t condone the use or sale of drugs or anything like it. That being said, if that’s something you do, be smart about it.

It was 7:45 in the evening in Santa Rosa, NM. Still plenty of daylight, definitely enough to make a drug deal obvious to anyone who happened to be looking in the right direction. I was in the middle of testing sensors under a bunch of fuel dispensers. Halfway through, I looked up. A mid-90s Ford Something-or-other was pulling up to a dispenser. A guy (Idiot Numero Uno stepped out and started walking toward the store. Another guy, we’ll call him Idiot Numero Dos, was smoking a cigarette against the side of the store and started walking towards Idiot Numero Uno. They met in the middle of the parking lot, halfway through between the fuel pumps and the storefront.

Now, if I were going to make such a transaction as these two businessman, I certainly wouldn’t do it in the middle of a parking lot at the busiest gas station in town, at the busiest intersection in town, while the parking lot and store are full of witnesses, with the sun burning bright. Not that I would do anything of the sort to begin with.

Then the idiocy began:

  • Idiots Numero Uno and Do chatted for a minute. A solid minute. In the middle of the busy parking lot
  • Idiot Numero Dos pulled out a wad of crumpled up cash and visibly counted out the right amount in exchange for his product
  • Idiot Numero Uno took the cash, counted it, and stuffed it in his pocket
  • Idiot Numero Uno pulled a joint out of his other pocket and noticeably gave it to Idiot Numero Dos
  • Both Idiots shook hands, Numero Uno went back to his car; Numero Dos back to his wall to smoke another cigarette

I’m no expert, but I have enough common sense to see that they went about their little exchange all wrong.

First of all, the whole thing should have happened all at once and taken maybe 3 seconds. Idiot Numero Dos should have already had the cash counted and separated ahead of time. Idiot Numero Uno should have had the joint in a plastic baggy or some other kind of protected containment; no one wants your nasty pocket-lint weed. there shouldn’t be that friendly of a relationship between a dealer and a user. It can create problems down the road in a big way. That means they shouldn’t have been having that friendly of a chat for that long. If they were friends, then they should have saved the conversation for later, over the phone, or hanging out somewhere else. Idiot Numero Uno should have actually gone into the store for any number of reasons to look somewhat legitimate. Idiot Numero Dos should have left, not posted up in his usual spot. Never stay in the same place where you make a transaction like that.

The best part of this is that I’m 6’1, I was in a very bright orange shirt for work, and I was visibly staring at them both during the whole thing, maybe 10 feet away.

They should have casually passed each other, passed cash and product in a couple of handshakes, and both moved on. It’s simple. But I guess if you have to sell or use drugs to make a living or get your rocks off, you’re probably not smart enough to wheel a tire down a damned hill.

Do better.

Stay classy, and I’ll see you at the next stop.

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