Vendor Fight Club: The Networking Mixer From Hell

The invitations went out like any other cannabis event:

“Boof du Jour presents: Vendor Connect 2025 — An Evening of Collaboration and Community.”

The email had the usual clichés — “relationship building,” “industry synergy,” “drinks and networking.” We made a flyer with a gradient background and a handshake logo. Everyone clicked “Yes.”

Brands RSVP’d fast. Vendors faster. Cookies wanted a table. WYLD asked about power outlets. 710 Labs requested a terpene-friendly ventilation setup. Even Trulieve forwarded it to HR for “team morale.”

Nobody read the fine print. Rule 1 — If it’s your first night here, you have to fight.

Check-In: Name Badge, NDA, Mouthguard

A repurposed conference hall outside Los Angeles — same one where Weedmaps used to host influencer mixers. Check-in looked like a trade show: branded tablecloths, name tags, clipboards.

The difference? Every lanyard came with a waiver.We told guests it was a “liability update due to the new RICO ruling.” They signed. Everyone signs anything if you hand them a swag bag.

Inside, vendors built the normal spread: pop-up banners, sample jars, sticker walls.

Only tell: center stage had no podium, no projector — just a boxing ring.

A WYLD rep asked if it was “for a giveaway.”“Sort of.”

Welcome Remarks

7:00 p.m., lights down. Boof co-founder on the mic:

“Thanks for coming. Tonight, we’re not pitching products. We’re collecting debts.”

Confused applause. Then the screen lit up:

THE 2025 OUTSTANDING INVOICE LEADERBOARD

Cookies: $8.4M

Berkeley Patients Group: $258K

710 Labs: $146K

Trulieve: undisclosed (multiple vendors; see attached)

The room got quiet enough to hear unpaid bills age in real time.

This wasn’t spectacle. It was a ledger audit written in fists. The “ring” is what collections looks like when vendors finally have leverage: no more soft emails, no more “can we pay in product,” no more net-30 that quietly became net-120. Everyone in this room has carried someone else’s cash flow. Tonight just made the float visible.

The Reveal

We killed the pretense and switched the projector to a live feed of the ring.

“Welcome to Boof’s first annual Net-30 Invitational. No booths. No panels. No excuses.”

Half the room laughed. Half realized we weren’t kidding.

Round One: Merch Vendors vs. Marketing Managers

A promo printer called out a brand marketing director who’d ghosted him since July.

Circle formed. One swing. A “sponsorship agreement” fulfilled in cash before the bell.

Phones out. Karma in 4K.

By the end of Round One, two vendors got Zelle’d mid-match.We printed the receipts on stage like scorecards.

Round Two: Packaging Designers vs. Corporate Logos

A design firm owner squared up against an MSO “Head of Brand Strategy” who owed her $22K.He tried “net-terms realignment.”She countered with “terms finalized.”

Tap out. “ACH tomorrow.”We projected the promise behind him like a campaign ad. The crowd booed.“Tomorrow” doesn’t exist in vendor time.

Round Three: The Cookies Apology Tour

Cookies sent a regional manager to “discuss partnerships.” He didn’t finish the sentence.

A dozen unpaid vendors ringed the ropes, invoices held like protest signs.Attempted exit. Someone yelled, “You can’t rebrand accountability!”

He surrendered a company AmEx. “This is above my pay grade.”“So are your debts.”

Round Four: The 710 Labs Spar

A 710 Labs sales director wore gloves. A distributor wrapped hands with printed invoices.

Three rounds. No clean shots — but every minute added 5% late fees.Chant: “Net! Thirty! Net! Thirty!”A CFO wired $40K on stage. Scoreboard updated. Crowd lost it.

Round Five: The WYLD Card

WYLD arrived late, blamed traffic, asked if “exposure credit” counted as partial payment.“Sure — exposure to fists.”

Ninety seconds later, a Portland sticker maker slept him faster than WYLD drops a vendor.

Intermission: The Wall of Shame

Between rounds we ran a telethon of balances:

“This segment is brought to you by people who don’t pay their bills.”

Each slide:

• Company name

• Amount owed

• Days past due

• Vendor’s favorite excuse

  
  

People started betting which brands make it to Q2 before getting sued.

Round Six: The Multi-State Free-For-All

We called it The Corporate Clusterfuck. Trulieve, Ayr, Cresco — three clipboards, one ring.

Trulieve opened with “temporary cash flow delay.”Ayr countered “banking transition.”Cresco closed with “we value our partners.”

The bell rang again after someone heckled, “No you don’t!” and a QuickBooks logo hit the canvas.

The Finale: Vendors vs. The Concept of “Community”

Last round: everyone in — vendors, reps, buyers, even a few journalists.

A banner dropped from the rafters: COMMUNITY — BORN FROM DEBT.

“Take one swing for every unpaid invoice you’ve ever sent.”

By the end, the floor was covered in shredded contracts and a puddle of spilled terp sample that smelled like ethanol and regret.

A merch vendor shouted, “This is the best industry event I’ve ever been to!”No one disagreed.

Aftermath

We set one rule at the door: leave without paying and your name headlines next month’s piece. By sunrise 19 invoices were paid in full, six NDAs got torn up, and three CMOs resigned to “pursue other opportunities.” Translation for the industry: vendors are done acting like banks, “community” is done meaning credit, and the cost of not paying now includes public humiliation — which clears faster than ACH.

Closing Shot

For years this industry hid behind “community” while robbing it blind.They said partnership — they meant float.

They said collaboration — they meant credit.

Boof called the bluff. You don’t build culture on unpaid labor.If you want to sell weed in peace, pay the people who keep your lights on.

Boof du Jour Verdict: The first rule of Vendor Fight Club? Pay your fucking bills.