Rescue all the way.
Your friend may be the exception, and may have simon-pure intentions, but generally speaking people who get money for purebred dogs will always recommend them. Personally the only other people I meet who recommend “purebred” as more desirable are what I’d consider to be snobs, or at least “name brand” people.
Let me share our “disappointing” pound rescue experience.
My brother was the first of our family to win parental consent to get a dog. We were in third grade. The pound was our first and only thought; rescue seemed like the right thing to do if we could find a dog we wanted.
My Dad’s main objective was to guide my brother to a shorthaired dog; a small one, if possible, that would make less of a mess and fit our small yard better.
Love obeys no rules.
Of course my brother fell in love with a big, longhaired German Shepherd/something mix. This dog was an adult, large and awkward-looking. Nor did she seem to want to come home with us.
In fact, she was severely messed up. She’d been mistreated; whenever any one of us raised a hand above waist level, she threw herself down and cowered. She had to be carried to the car; I remember her body was so rigid with terror that we held her front and back hips and carried her like cordwood.
In this day and age, she would have been ruled unadoptable and destroyed. But this was decades ago, and the pound was probably glad to find a home for such a sad case.
She was completely beaten down and made no visible effort to win our – or anyone’s – affection. My father, noting with dread the long, fine undercoat hairs the dog shed in clouds, tried cautiously to talk my brother out of choosing her, but he persisted in this mad course with single-mindedness. This dog, and no other, would be the dog.
At home, the dog, now named Princess, crawled into a basement corner and lay fearfully shaking. We had no experience with how to socialize a mistreated dog.
And it was here, under the least promising starting conditions, that things began to turn around for Princess. I have no other way to describe it except to suppose that the true quality of the dog began to shine through all the bad that had gone before.
I cannot convey on a message board the amazing qualities of this dog. She became brave and confident. She was ever gentle with children. She raised two abandoned kittens, allowing them to playfully bite and claw her ears…when the pain got to her, she would ever-so-gently open her mouth and close it around a kitten’s head and just hold the cat still for a second. All these years later I can still see the enormously indignant kittens glaring back at her with wet matted fur.
She never hurt them, and when they grew up she defended them against neighborhood dogs and cats.
She must have been part Lab; her love of water was so total that she’d drag us straight to even the shallowest mudpuddle and then just stand there with wet feet, wagging her tail gently.
This dog raised us three human kids too. She was a role-model for love; always attentive, always tender. Patient when waiting, forgiving when we roughhoused. Maybe she knew we’d saved her. I do know she lived every moment of her life for us after that car ride.
Princess had foibles of her own. She didn’t understand the TV; she’d lie in front of it and simply BASK in all the attention of the whole family gazing raptly at her.
One time I got a pet rabbit. We did not have a cage for the rabbit yet, so we put her into a downstairs office and closed the door. Somehow Princess got into the room, and the rabbit died, maybe from sheer fear; there wasn’t a mark on her, and she was not a hunting animal. Instead, she licked the poor bunny all over, either before or after the rabbit’s death, and when we came home, Princess crawled up to us miserably begging forgiveness, and led us to the body. She knew she’d done something wrong. We never did have any trouble with other rabbits in the future though; she never again got near one.
Princess lived a long happy life. We’ve had many dogs since, and still she stands out in my memory as the finest dog I’ve ever known.
I have no doubt that unexpected surprises can turn up in a rescued animal. Unexpected does not always mean bad. 
Best of luck to you in finding a Princess of your own.
Sailboat