I just got back from work today, a retail outlet of a provincial liquor control commission. For Americans not in the loop, the governments of each province in Canada (save two) control *all* alcohol sales; you can only buy from government stores, the government sets the minimum price for all alcohol to prevent abuse (cough), and all profits go directly to government coffers, which strikes me as a facile income-generating plan; but it's the government, what are you going to do about it? This results in a blatant, and in fact government-decreed alcohol monopoly; it also means that most towns of 5000 or less, like the one in which I live, have only one government retail outlet, since competing with yourself is pointless in a pure monopoly.
The lack of free-market alternatives, combined with statutory holidays, leads to some unique issues; Christmas Day and Boxing Day are both government statutory holidays, meaning the liquor store at which I work is closed; in fact, every liquor store is closed. You'd better stock up on Christmas eve, cause if you run up short on Christmas, it's a long drive to Maine. As a result, Christmas Eve is something like D Day at the liquor store, an all-hands-on-deck kind of affair.
It also leads to some other, less savoury consequences. Today was the first day we were open since the 24th; consequently, at least a dozen of my customers in the first two hours were suffering with the DTs. Alcoholics, you see, are not rich; they often have to buy their alcohol in small amounts each day, usually twenty dollars or less, which is not helped by government-mandated minumum pricing. So, especially with the Christmas season, they simply don't have the money to stock up for two days and nights without liquor service. I can only imagine what hell they went through on Boxing Day, needing alcohol so badly and yet having nowhere to get it. Consequently, they lined up at the door before noon today, when we opened, and got what they could; and paid for it with shaking, unsteady hands.
I remember serving one lady, shortly after we opened; she bought a 26er of Russian Prince Vodka, the drink of choice among 40+ alcoholic women. She could barely swipe her debit card, her hands were shaking so badly, so I offered to do it for her. I glanced at her face, smudged makeup. She was probably in the depths of hell this morning, but still wanted to look nice. Afterwards, I looked around the store; immaculate, clean, orderly, dignified, with pictures of happy people along the walls. Not a bottle out of place, nary a word of alcohol's unintended consequences. It's like the government created a store which managed, somehow, to deny the very product they were selling. But the facade crumbles quickly.
I sit, writing about the day, mouse in one hand and beer in the other; one of the three cans I bought today (the European half litre cans, not the wussy North American 473ml cans. Like seriously, would it kill them to keep the extra 27 ml???), even though I had some at home. Because that way, I never run out, and I hate knowing that my home is devoid of alcohol. Right now I rationalize it, saying that I just like to unwind after work with a few beers, what's wrong with that? Because there isn't. I just hope that, serving a man who hands me all the money in his wallet to pay with because his hands are shaking too much to find it himself, is not a vision of my own future.