As if we weren't already stressed enough with our on the run status, things continued to get worse as that job progressed. Not only were we pretty unwelcome where we were staying (for no good reason) but our equipment that we needed to do the job was having issues. We needed a new gun and a new place to stay and it didn't seem like either of those things were going to come easily considering our lack of transportation and money.
The whole job had been stressful just because we never knew how much farther it was going to go and with our equipment failing our anxiety only got worse. In the beginning of the job, it was clear that he was doing what he was with us as a test, to see if that's how he wanted to process all of his trimmings. As time went on, he acted as though we'd have lots more work in the future.
We met at a nearby grocery store to give him the second half of his cut. That day he left us with the last of the sac of the blue dream and the rest of that master case. He seemed pleased with the product and was talking as though there would be a future for much more work, so long as it tested well in the laboratories for contaminants and things of that nature. He followed us to the property where we were staying to drop off the material and butane and we parted ways with plans to meet back up in a week or so. His friend that was with him the first time was with him again. She gave me a broken book bag filled with weird clothing much to large for me. It also included crap quality cannabis cookies, reportedly baked by her.
We headed back to the Sheep Shed Dab Lab for some dabs and to start the next round. As we got working it became clear that the heat gun was failing, and would need replacing really soon. Considering we barely had food to feed ourselves, the 90 dollar expenditure was not in our budget. The fan was going bad and despite John's maintenance, seemed to be worsening. As soon as he'd hold the gun and move it around to use it, the fan would go off kilter making a loud noise. Shaking the gun got it to stop at first, but as time wore on the going got worse. We limped through the last leg of that job, honestly.
Eventually, halfway through the last leg of this job, we contacted our boss. Things had become pretty hostile where we were living and we needed a way out. He had offered us work in the future, so we asked him if there was anything he could do to help in the meantime. When we met him we explained our situation, east coast kids swindled into work that wasn't there on the west coast, only to be stranded. Being from the east coast himself, the idea of being stranded in Oregon with no money probably made him feel for us on that issue.
It was at this point that he said he was planning on having us process the rest of his trim, so he might be able to find us a place to stay while we do the job. This ended up being a fiasco saved for another day. He offered to buy is another gun though, upon hearing of our troubles with that. By that point, it seemed we weren't even going to be able to finish the job. The way he put it was that we were going to need a functioning gun in the near future, so he wanted to make sure we had one.
Turns out, we were right, it broke. We needed a new gun and we told our boss. He told us he'd get us one and to bring it out to us when he came to collect the bulk of his cut. This whole time he was discussing plans of a place to stay and future work. He showed up at night with a guy we didn't know with our new gun. Our broken one had failed with about 10 grams left to process. We told him that we'd process it for him with the new gun, to give to him the next time we saw him.
He mentioned he was going to get the dabs lab tested for contaminants, which was fine by us. John uses an artisan method that removes most (if any) contaminants that can be found in the material, so we weren't worried on the results. The nerve wracking part of the job was trying to make the yield numbers he was hoping for, which wasn't necessarily something we could really control. We were extracting all we could, if it wasn't there to extract we can't do anything about that.
I gave him a plate of dab infused cookies to try. His friend mentioned she was a cannabis baker interested in opening a cannabis bakery, and it seemed like she was after our job in terms of processing the trimmings. We later found out she was, although that doesn't necessarily matter at this point. What mattered was that her cookies sucked, they had shit flavor and shittier effects. So I sent him with a plate of my dab cookies, famous for being delicious and for getting you really stoned. They were so good I'd have Mountain Boy from the property following me around going "Cooooookiiie".
Our boss acted as though we had the next leg of the job, even going as far as to list the strain names he had left to process. It was getting close to Christmas at that point, so he said we'd take a bit of time off for the holidays and resume after the start of the new year. This would give us a break as well as give him a chance to have his dabs tested, something he wanted to do before he continued with us. In the mean time, he'd do what he could to find us a place near him to stay while we did the job. When he left, it seemed like we still had a job with the possibility of a lot more work.
Things aren't as they seem though, as many people know. More on that to come....in the next part.