BIG MONEY IN LITTLE BAGS

"Tom" is bone-tired. He won't say what he does for a full-time, regular
job. But after work, he spends several hours delivering to homes around
Edmonton, eventually putting in a 16-hour day.

Hey, you'd work extra hours too if it meant supplementing your income by
around six-figures annually.

But Tom - not his real name - is a drug dealer, or in the parlance of the
day, a dial-a-doper.

Customers call him and he shows up with little Glad bags full of weed.

They pay him a lot of money for the help.

"They're usually looking at $70 for a quarter," he says.

In a good week, the Edmontonian - who says he's in his 30s but looks 10
years older - will see up to 50 regulars, with the average buying about one
quarter-ounce of marijuana, or seven grams.

He admits that he charges them different amounts based on how much he
either likes them or how long they've been customers. "If they've been with
me for a long time then I try to give them a break, and generally that
means I either knock off $10 occasionally or, if they're buying a lot on
sort of a regular basis, it might be $60 for them all the time."

In the course of a week, that translates to as much as $3,500. That's not
all profit, although his markup is considerable. "I'm not going to tell you
what I make. But it costs me quite a bit less than that."

How about $25 per quarter? Or $35? "Closer to $35," he says. Assuming he's
not lying, that means as much as $1,750 in profit per week, or a 100% markup.

In a year, that's $91,000. He won't confirm the math, either, but does note
he has a partner to split the cash with.

Smoking weed was Tom's introduction to selling it. He still consumes
heavily, often smoking with the people who buy it from him. And he admits
that he sometimes drives while stoned but says he's never been in an
accident or even gotten a speeding ticket.

"I'm really good at it because I've been doing it for a long time," he says.

"There are a lot of drivers in Edmonton people should be a lot more worried
about than me, believe you me. If you spend all day driving around here you
understand that real quick."

He doesn't worry about getting caught and, like a lot of potheads, scoffs
at the suggestion he's contributing to someone's ill health, because he
thinks booze is far more harmful, and it's legal.

Tom says he doesn't grow the stuff and he doesn't pick it up in bulk, so he
has little knowledge of where it comes from. Given that police principally
target grow operations, he figures the risk is low; his partner doesn't
give him enough information to help the police should he actually get caught.

"There's no reason for anyone to stop me and search me and I don't see why
that would change.

"I don't speed, I don't smoke it in my car. I might be a little high
sometimes. But I've looked a cop right in the eye at a traffic light
without him knowing, so why would I worry?"

He figures he may give it up if pot is decriminalized because the value of
the market might plummet. Or, if it's legally possible, Tom might even go
legit and set up a retail business.

"Maybe they'll set it up like liquor stores, who knows? It's the
government, so they'll probably (mess) it up somehow."