I almost made it through Dry January and not because I stopped drinking or participate.

No, no. This is about something far more dramatic:
The liquor store is a ghost town.
I’m talking tumbleweeds rolling past the tequila aisle.
Crickets echoing off the bourbon shelves.
Me, standing there like the last survivor in a post‑apocalyptic world of glass bottles and silence.
The only people coming in are the die‑hard regulars the “bottle‑a‑day” crowd and the “three‑cases‑a‑week” champions. God bless them. They’re the only thing keeping the lights on.

But the worst?

The Dry January Warriors marching in proudly asking:
“Where’s your non‑alcoholic section? I’m doing Dry January!”
Congratulations.
Here’s your medal.
And here’s a reminder for anyone interacting with someone who works in the liquor industry:
No one cares.
NO ONE.
And let’s be honest when you remove the alcohol from wine, it becomes…
JUICE.
It’s JUICE with a marketing budget.
A $14.99 bottle of grape juice wearing a tuxedo.

Drink water. It’s cheaper.

Meanwhile, I’m standing there watching the clock like it owes me money.
Facing the same bottles I face every day.
They stare back at me with the same labels, the same fonts, the same promises of “notes of oak and vanilla.”
I swear one of them winked at me out of boredom.
Customers vanish every January with the best intentions and good for them. Truly. Abstinence is great for your health.

But for those of us in the trenches?
It’s slow.
It’s dull.
It’s retail purgatory.

My “temporary” stockman job quietly morphed into a “more permanent part‑time” situation. So here I am, still grinding, still searching for that next corporate role, still enduring the job market like it’s an Olympic sport.
I showed up today.
I’ll show up tomorrow.
That’s the victory.

But let me tell you I almost snapped when they had me cleaning individual shelves.
Every bottle off.
Every shelf tag audited.
On a Sunday.
A SUNDAY.
When I should’ve been sitting on the couch watching football like a normal American.
It was almost my breaking point.
I almost lost my schitt’s.
I almost staged a one‑man walkout.
This can’t be happening to me, I thought.
But it is.
And somehow… I’m still here.

Side Note From the Trenches
And while we’re on the subject of Dry January… I have a question.
A sincere one.
A scientific one.
If you’re doing Dry January, does it still count when you’re chugging THC and CBD drinks like they’re holy water?
Because let me tell you the real rush this month isn’t toward sobriety. It’s toward the “alternative beverages” aisle. Those cans are flying off the shelves like they’re the last lifeboats on the Titanic.
People aren’t drinking less.
They’re just… pivoting.
And the store knows it.
How do I know?
Because we suddenly have more chips in inventory than a Vegas casino.
Salt & vinegar, jalapeño, kettle‑cooked, flavors‑so‑fancy‑they‑sound‑tax‑deductible. You name it, we’ve got it.
It’s like someone in corporate said, “If they’re not drinking, they’re definitely snacking.”

Dry January has turned into High January, Munchie January, and Justifying‑My‑Choices January all at once.
I’m not judging.
I’m just observing the ecosystem.
And from where I’m standing stocking shelves, dodging NA warriors, and watching THC seltzers disappear by the case and I can confidently say:
Abstinence has many… interpretations.

Bring on February!

Rock on.