“Hon, they’re not gonna let you buy that before noon,” she whispered conspiratorially.

Puzzled, I glanced at my shopping cart, wondering what could possibly be forbidden. My partner and I bundled up and braved Walmart within minutes of the sleet/snow/sludge mixture sprinkling from the sky– the first actual evidence of winter this season.

Weaving through the crowded aisles felt like navigating a minefield. Here in the Memphis area, people panic at the mere mention of inclement weather. Hence, the mass exodus to Wally World to stock up before the shelves go bare.

Scanning the basket, I took inventory of our goods. Our bounty consisted of fresh produce and dairy. Oh, and two scented candles marked down to closeout costs after the holiday. Was that it? Perched atop one of the candles was an elongated Bic lighter with a flexible neck. We were in the Bible Belt, after all– it wasn’t unheard of to get carded for a lighter.

Then, a silver gleam caught my eye. It was my 20 oz sugar-free Red Bull, lying forgotten on its side. She must have glanced at it and assumed it was a tallboy of beer– which, per law, I could not purchase before noon on a Sunday.

“It’s a little too early for that. Or is it?!” I gave her a wink. She realized her mistake, giggled, and went on her merry way.

This happened over an hour ago and I can’t stop thinking about it….wishing I’d acted differently.

I’m sober. There is not an ounce of ‘Anonymous’ within me– I shout my sobriety from the rooftops! Drowning myself in booze and devouring every drug I could get my hands on for nearly two decades brought me to my knees. Hands down, finding recovery marks the greatest accomplishment in my 36 years.

Proselytizing my unconventional recovery isn’t my bottle of ginger beer. The specifics aren’t as important as the fact that I’m a proud person in recovery who is eternally grateful to live a clean and sober life. Suffice it to say, if I can embrace successful sobriety, anyone can.

Contemplating my reaction sent me down a rabbit hole of analysis regarding the way our society has normalized alcohol consumption.

Did I have to peer out from my pink cloud and inform her I did not drink? Make a production about my sobriety and loudly assure her it was not beer? Of course not. It’s none of her business and I certainly wasn’t obligated to share anything with her.

I am ashamed to admit that I *pretended* I wanted to drink.

Not just drink, mind you, but commit a drinking faux pas– drinking before 5 pm! Normal drinkers aren’t imbibing before the weekday work shift ends. I firmly believe there is no such thing as a ‘proper’ way to drink, but we’ll save that article for another day.

Did this woman have a case of select vision, thinking my aluminum can was beer because that’s what would be in her cart? Was she aware of the noon restriction because she too had tried to purchase alcohol too early on a Sunday? Were her hands shaking and I didn’t notice?

Was she counting down the hours to the end of her shift so she could swing by the liquor store on her way home? That in and of itself is a small victory– only within the past several years were liquor stores (only wine and beer are sold in grocery stores and select gas stations here) allowed to open on Sundays.

Maybe she didn’t need to make a pit stop because there was a lukewarm beer shoved underneath her passenger floorboard. If she even had a car. She’s lucky she has a job and a vehicle. Towards the end, I had neither.

If my nine-year-old daughter had been with me, would we have exchanged knowing looks and referenced ‘Mommy Juice?’ What if she’d pointed to the nearby display of coffee thermoses and reminded me that nobody knows what beverage I put in there as if it was our dirty little secret.

All of this is pure speculation. Perhaps she’s never had a drink in her life and was trying to be a knowledgeable, helpful retail employee and prevent one of her colleagues from having to return my purchase to the cooler. It’s entirely possible that I’m reading way too much into this situation because I will always be an alcoholic who notices these things.

Today, I missed the mark. I’m only human. As they say in that well-known, anti-alcohol fellowship, “progress not perfection.” Society’s response to alcohol marketing won’t change overnight. All I can do is be aware of it, share my awareness with all who will listen, and do a better job next time.

I’ll toast to that.