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I worked in a coffeeshop. The maximum we were allowed to have was higher than 5 grams. I'm not sure how high it exactly was. The maximum we were allowed to sell a person was 5 gram.

We had odd ways to go around the police. Once in a year they'd show up, in numbers. Some kind of yearly ritual. Our main trick was to accidentally throw down a trash bin in such a case so that the "refiller" (trusted middle man with social skills who sat between the growers and me) would know that he shouldn't show up. All the stash was stored just 2 floors above the shop in a civilian apartment floor. He'd hear the noise through the heating pipe.

I'm glad I quit because, quite frankly, I didn't have the social skills for this job (autism, lack of balls for the semi criminal cirtcuit, street slang, etc). I felt my co-employees and boss were more focused on sales than on proper guidance of tourists. I've refused to sell people (especially spacecake) based on maturity/knowledge signals I picked up. Though that wasn't the main reason why I quit I'm glad I don't have to feel guilty for that anymore (because there's always a losing party to such decision).



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