"This morning, employees of Amsterdam’s de Dampkring (“the Smoke Ring”) coffee-shop franchise have convened at the unbohemian hour of 9 a.m. for a daylong refresher course on the finer points of effective and responsible weed salesmanship.

Not long from now, I’m scheduled to spend a week behind the hash bar at one of de Dampkring’s two local branches, but what I know about the art of marijuana retail—not to mention Holland’s perverse and hazy drug statutes—wouldn’t fill a golf-ball dimple. So at the request of the shops’ rightly nervous manager, I’ve crossed the pond early to undergo a spot of preprofessional cramming.

The seminar is taking place on the second floor of the Dampkring’s forward-looking modern branch, whose decor tends toward diamond plate and brushed steel, in deliberate disdain, the owner tells me, for the hippy-shit aesthetics, smoke-browned Hendrix posters, and Jamaican tricolor of the last-gen Amsterdam dope joint."

— read the rest of “My Kushy New Job: Wells Tower’s Experience at a Marijuana Coffee Shop” in GQ magazine…