Local Pot Dealer (The Nice White Kind) Calls The Cops On Black Girl Selling Water
The police have clearly failed to stop
the scourge of black kids selling water to thirsty people, so your average law-abiding, permit-respecting white lady has no choice but to take matters into her own (did we mention they were white?) hands. You might call her a busybody gone power mad or a simple tool of racist micoaggression, but we just call her "Permit Patty."
In a video posted to Instagram Saturday morning, a mother states that the cops were called on her eight-year-old daughter.
"An 8-year-old selling water in front of her apartment building where she's lived her whole life is NOT a reason to call the police," the woman captioned the video with.
The video shows the mom confronting the woman while she's on the phone. And then, right after the woman turns around and looks at the mom holding the camera, she ducks behind a retaining wall.
"You can hide all you want," the mother said. "The whole world gonna see you, boo."
And then the woman on the phone responds, "And illegally selling water without a permit?"
The mother notes that the water being sold is on her property and the woman on the phone counters "it's not your property."
Yes, Permit Patty is also gifted with the power of Total Recall of San Francisco County Property Records! It's far more convenient than flight, because it's chilly at 30,000 feet and bugs can get stuck in your teeth.
You might wonder: "Why does she care who sells water outside their own home?" It just so happens that this issue is personal for Permit Patty. A relative was once fatally injured after a young girl was careless with water.
And a high school friend of Permit Patty's died tragically in a beverage-related mishap.
So Permit Patty walks the San Francisco streets ever
racist vigilant, ready at an instant to hide like a frightened mouse cleverly disguise herself from wrongdoers by pretending to be part of a retaining wall. Permit Patty would stop at nothing to defend the bottom line of the good people at AT&T Park, whose concession business could crumble if patrons complemented their poke bowls and Impossible Burgers with $2 water from a little girl instead of $6 Dasani.
Permit Patty's secret identity, now diabolically
exposed to the world, is Alison Ettel, who has two master's degrees, one in
total bullshit urban planning, was an equity trader, and once worked for the Brookings Institution think tank. She now sells pot professionally.
No, lady from that movie my wife once watched next to me on a plane, I'm not. Ettel scrubbed most of her social media presence, but her online professional presence endures. She's reportedly the founder of the medical marijuana business TreatWell, where you can even buy pot-laced goodies for your cocker spaniel. She recently participated in the Leadership Summit at Women Grow, an organization founded in 2014 that's focused on female leadership in the cannabis industry.
Permit Patty is probably somewhere in there
The women are coincidentally pretty much all white, which is fair because black women have never smoked or consumed marijuana nor sold it, and they've
certainly never been prosecuted and sentenced at disproportionate levels as a result. When you think about the victims of the senseless War on Drugs, you naturally think of suburban white women. I'm glad that they are among the beneficiaries of Colorado and other states' decriminalization policies. Women Grow seeks to "redefine the workplace to create environments in which (women) can flourish and define (their) own destiny," so naturally when Ettel sees a young black girl entrepreneur-ing her ass off, she calls the cops.
Some more of the secret origin of Permit Patty:
[Ettel's] true calling, however, came after trying cannabis while recovering from a coma. After studying and researching the plant, she became passionate about providing high quality cannabis medicine for others and to raise the bar for the industry overall. TreatWell specializes in producing the highest quality cannabis medicine for both people and pets.
I feel kinda bad about the whole coma thing: Maybe we should listen to her side of the story, which I'm sure won't make things worse.
Ettel told HuffPost that the incident, which has left her feeling "horrible and heart-wrenched," began because the girl's mother was "screaming."
She asked the building's security to intervene, but said they could do nothing."They were screaming about what they were selling," she said. "It was literally nonstop. It was every two seconds, 'Come and buy my water.' It was continuous and it wasn't a soft voice, it was screaming."
(This was also my parents' complaint back in the '90s when I used to listen PJ Harvey in my room.)
Ettel said she had the windows of her office open. When asked why she did not close the windows, she said because it was too hot and closing them would not have stopped the noise.
I dunno... maybe closing the window might've helped: Reducing noise volume and keeping out seals are sort of their core competencies. It was a June day in San Francisco, meaning the temperature probably climbed to a scorching 70 or so.
"I had been putting up with this for hours, and I just snapped," Ettel said.
Ettel said she is now getting threats online and feels "discriminated against."
"It was stupid," she said. "I completely regret that I handled that so poorly. It was completely stress-related, and I should have never confronted her. That was a mistake, a complete mistake. Please don't make me sound horrible."
She seems to suffer from really high levels of anxiety for someone who deals weed. She might not be the best spokesperson for her own product. She should consider selling used cars: "Come on down to Permit Patty's in Alameda. I'm just CRAZY about selling cars! If I don't get you into an affordable four-door sedan I might just snap!"
Ettel claims she was "only bluffing" when she "pretended" to call the cops, who are frankly superfluous to effective conflict resolution when you have an ample supply of pot-laced Kale chips at the ready.
Stephen Robinson is a writer and social kibbitzer based in Portland, Oregon. He writes reviews for the A.V. Club and make believe for Cafe Nordo, an immersive theatre space in Seattle. He's also on the board of the Portland Playhouse theatre. His son describes him as a “play typer guy."