BudzRite was the kind of pot shop where the neon sign flickered harder than the staff smiled, and most customers didn’t bother leaving reviews at all. But one Tuesday evening, after a clumsy checkout experience and a gram that smelled older than the cashier, Jamie left a three-sentence review: “Decent place, but customer service needs work. Staff seemed annoyed I was there.”
It wasn’t harsh. It wasn’t personal. It was honest.
The owner, Dale, didn’t see it that way.
At 11:43 p.m., long after closing, his ego kicked down the door of common sense. He tracked down Jamie’s Facebook profile, clicked Message, and fired off a string of midnight complaints:
“Maybe try being nicer yourself.”
“You don’t know the work we put in.”
“People like you ruin small businesses.”
Jamie hadn’t even seen the messages yet, but Dale wasn’t done. He jumped into the comment section under the review and started chirping publicly—rambling paragraphs defending his shop, explaining why the staff had every right to seem annoyed, and accusing Jamie of “attention-seeking.”
By sunrise, Dale sobered up—but not from weed. From embarrassment.
Like a digital raccoon trying to bury its garbage, he deleted every comment he’d left overnight. But the notifications remained. Screenshots too. Jamie now had an inbox full of rage and a review with vanished replies, which only made things look worse.
The community noticed.
People don’t like bullies. They especially don’t like bullies who try to cover their tracks. Within a week, BudzRite’s rating dropped a full star. Regulars drifted to other shops. A local subreddit had a field day with the drama. Even Dale’s suppliers quietly asked if everything was “okay over there.”
The irony?
If Dale had simply taken the review as feedback, Jamie would’ve probably gone back.
Instead, one honest review became a wildfire—sparked not by criticism, but by an owner who couldn’t resist chirping at a customer and then pretending he hadn’t.
And BudzRite never quite recovered from the smoke.