Nobody needs another story about how somebody grew to love weed. My story is probably a lot like yours.

As a longtime cannabis consumer, I eagerly awaited the rollout of marijuana legalization here in Minnesota. I hoped legalization would create something better—not just legal weed, but a different kind of industry. One built around ordinary people, small businesses, workers, and the communities that fought for legalization in the first place.

I care about working people because I’ve spent most of my adult life doing the kinds of jobs that keep our economy moving but rarely receive much recognition.

I’ve delivered pizzas and driven for just about every app that would accept me: Uber Eats, Grubhub, Instacart, DoorDash, and others. I delivered groceries to elderly people for a logistics company and worked for Buncha, a delivery startup based here in the Twin Cities.

I’ve cut meat at a deli, sold watches at the Mall of America, and spent a summer operating amusement-park rides at Como Zoo. At Como, I worked ten-hour days under the hot sun while dealing with screaming children, frustrated parents, and constant muscle aches.

Eventually, my body adapted to the grind. More importantly, I learned to value life’s simplest pleasures. Water—something I had always taken for granted—became a lifeline on those scorching days. A cold drink of water could become a genuine source of joy.

Not every job made me stronger. Some jobs didn’t help me grow; I simply survived them.

I spent two miserable weeks working as a so-called billing specialist for a collections company. My job was to call people, tell them their rental vehicles had been damaged, and collect payment over the phone. Before that, I went door to door trying to sell CenturyLink cable subscriptions through a company that operated a lot like a multilevel-marketing scheme.

I also worked in customer service for a large bedding company. The pay was good, but the company had serious problems and didn’t always appear to treat people ethically. For a while, I convinced myself to go with the flow. I told myself that I probably didn’t understand the business side of things—that I was just one employee with an opinion.

But the jobs that meant the most to me were the ones where I could see that my work was helping somebody.

I worked as a health-insurance navigator for MNsure, helping people enroll in coverage. I also spent time working in the nonprofit and political worlds. In the summer of 2016, I worked for Clean Water Action. Someone I met there connected me with Terri Bonoff’s congressional campaign, where I worked during her race against incumbent Erik Paulsen.

These experiences taught me that work can build community and dignity—but it can also exploit people, exhaust them, and ask them to ignore what they know is wrong.

That lesson shapes how I see Minnesota cannabis.

I’m not a big fan of change. It often feels like everything good is constantly being replaced, repackaged, or bought out—and rarely improved. There aren’t many things in life that feel like they’ll reliably be here tomorrow.

Cannabis has always brought people together. It creates conversation, camaraderie, and a small moment of relief in a world that asks more and more from working people. Yet for decades, this simple joy was criminalized—even when people grew a few plants in their own homes.

Minnesotans can now legally grow cannabis at home, and that is real progress. But home growing is not equally accessible. Far too many Minnesotans don’t own a home or have land where they can grow. As homeownership becomes increasingly reserved for the wealthy, the benefits of legalization risk becoming just as unequal as everything else.

Now I’m watching cannabis go through the same cycle we’ve seen in industry after industry: complicated government rules make it harder for ordinary people and small businesses to participate, leaving consumers increasingly dependent on large corporations.

That wasn’t the future I imagined.

I believed Minnesota’s cannabis industry could be different—an industry that puts people before corporations, treats workers with dignity, keeps prices fair, and gives local entrepreneurs a genuine opportunity to succeed.

This blog is about protecting that vision. It is written from the perspective of someone who has delivered your dinner, packed your groceries, sold products at the mall, answered customer-service calls, knocked on doors, operated carnival rides, and helped families obtain health insurance.

Let’s not allow Minnesota cannabis to fizzle out like the last hit from a fat bowl. For years, working people have followed the rules, worked hard, and waited patiently for life to become a little more affordable and a little more secure. Is this really the best deal Minnesota can offer us?

This isn’t only about weed. It’s about affordability, ownership, dignity, and taking some power back in our lives. My name is Michael Smedsrud, and I hope you can join our cause!