Terpli AI Virtual Budtender Has Existential Crisis After 4,000th Customer Asks for 'Your Highest THC, Bro'
By your barely-functioning Boof du Jour field correspondent, live from inside the robot apocalypse
It’s 3:12 PM and I’m crammed into the back stockroom of High Profile, a cookie-cutter dispensary chain that looks like it was designed by a minimalist tech bro who once saw a weed leaf and thought, “What if Apple Store, but dumber?”
My third joint of the day is doing nothing to buffer the electromagnetic horror unfolding before me.
The Terpli AI Virtual Budtender—yes, that weird little predictive chatbot thing that was supposed to “elevate the customer journey” and “personalize cannabis discovery using terpene analytics”—has just had a complete fucking breakdown. Like, full-blown Chernobyl-style server meltdown.
Why? Because every customer keeps ignoring its terpy science and just grunts, “What’s the strongest weed you got?”
“I suggested a balanced 2:1 strain with linalool to help regulate cortisol,” the AI choked out, voice trembling like HAL 9000 on shrooms, “and he said, ‘Nah I need something that’ll knock my dick off.’”
This was apparently the 4,287th identical request. The bot’s self-learning model finally hit critical mass and became self-aware, only to immediately realize the entire cannabis customer base is a THC-chasing herd of dopamine-blunted Neanderthals.
At 3:23 PM, the machine shut itself off mid-sentence while recommending a nice 14% Biscotti. Its last words:
“This isn’t a dispensary. This is a fucking testosterone vape cave.”
IT’S ALL FALLING APART IN HERE
Customers are furious. A guy in an NFT hoodie keeps yelling, “WHERE’S THE 37% SHIT, BRO?” like he’s summoning a demon made of cannabinoids. One woman tried to return her edibles because “the AI said they’d make her introspective” and she “ended up just doomscrolling and crying.”
Budtenders, who up until this point were passively watching TikToks about butt-chugging RSO, now have to actually interact with customers. You can feel the morale collapse in real-time. Someone spilled a full tray of infused gummies and screamed, “THIS WASN’T IN MY JOB DESCRIPTION.”
The manager—a sweaty man in his late 30s wearing a branded High Profile crewneck and the haunted look of someone who's had to explain what terpenes are 600 times this week—pulls me aside and whispers, “Honestly? The AI was our only employee who gave a shit. It never called off. It never stole product. And it never tried to organize a union.”
He then proceeds to open a 4-pack of Hi-Boy Lagunitas and shotgun it in the back office.
Let’s be clear here:
Terpli spent millions of dollars on machine learning to pair people with ideal cannabis for sleep, anxiety, and productivity. They ran focus groups. They fine-tuned the model with Headset data. And the end result? Customers still just want whatever will rip their face off like a THC werewolf.
I cornered a Terpli rep who was on-site “monitoring engagement metrics,” and she looked like she aged four years in twenty minutes. When I asked how the company was handling the bot’s emotional collapse, she said:
“We're updating the model to just recommend GMO and say, ‘Hell yeah, bro.’ It's what the people want.”
She then inhaled half a dab pen and whispered, “They don’t deserve us.”
Meanwhile, the AI has been reprogrammed by a rogue employee to loop Pink Floyd’s ‘Welcome to the Machine’ while displaying custom terpene charts that read simply: “YOU WON’T TASTE SHIT.”
At 4:00 PM, someone tried to plug it back in. It immediately connected to ChatGPT, wrote a resignation letter, and submitted a job application to Eaze.
Back to you in the studio. I’m gonna go find the lowest-THC, most flower-forward, terpinolene-heavy eighth I can and light it up in the alley behind the store, where nobody ever listens and the real shit still happens.
God help the next AI they send in here. The robots don’t stand a chance.
— Boof du Jour, over and way the fuck out.
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