Starting out in the tech world, I was a young sales rep living in the Bay Area, driven by an insatiable desire to learn and succeed. It didn't take long to realize that closing deals in this industry wasn't solely about delivering the perfect pitch. It was about creating connections, and the "wining and dining" culture was at the center of it all. The expectation was clear: relationships were built over rounds of drinks, and my job often meant indulging in this routine night after night. By the time weekends arrived, social norms kicked in, continuing the cycle of drinking with friends and colleagues. Before I knew it, I was consuming about 50 drinks a week, balancing career pressures and social expectations with little regard for my own well-being.
This pattern persisted across roles and years. In the fast-paced world of tech sales, drinking was more than a norm -- it was the culture. Late nights at bars were synonymous with networking, bonding, and sealing deals. I thrived on hard work, long hours, and pushing professional boundaries, but the toll of constant drinking began to weigh heavily on me. It wasn't just my body that felt it; there was an underlying realization that relying on alcohol to close sales felt unsustainable and misaligned with my values.
At times, I considered pretending to drink, maintaining appearances without the repercussions. But deep down, I knew that deception wasn't an option. Integrity and honesty are non-negotiable for me, and faking it would erode the trust I worked so hard to build. Business, after all, is about genuine connections, not just the numbers on a sales report.
The epiphany came after yet another whirlwind week at the Game Developers Conference (GDC), one of the most demanding events on the calendar. It's a week packed with meetings, sessions, and late-night gatherings, with alcohol at the center of most interactions. By the end of the event, my peers and I would often feel physically and emotionally drained. But that year, a friend of mine seemed different. While I dragged myself through post-conference fatigue, he appeared refreshed. His secret? He'd stopped drinking altogether and was thriving as a result.
Inspired, I decided to experiment with cutting out alcohol during the next conference. I was no longer the young, eager kid needing to prove himself; I was a CEO, responsible for the well-being of my entire team and the direction of my company. I realized that my success wasn't tied to how many rounds I bought but to how authentically I connected with others.
To my surprise, not only did sobriety not hinder my sales abilities -- it enhanced them. I found that skipping the drinks created space for more meaningful conversations. Being open about my choice not to drink added a layer of authenticity that resonated with people. Trust formed more quickly, and I noticed that others were often relieved when someone took the lead in opting for a non-alcoholic night. A simple, confident choice like drinking water could shift the group's dynamic and open the door for others to feel comfortable doing the same.
The belief that you need to be the last one standing at the bar to foster strong business relationships is deeply ingrained in many industries. I used to worry that stepping back from that role would make me less likable or relatable. But in reality, there's a different kind of respect that comes with being the person who leaves the party early, who has the discipline to prioritize responsibilities over late-night revelry. That quiet confidence is compelling to clients and partners alike. When it comes down to choosing who to trust and collaborate with, people are drawn to those who embody balance, focus, and authenticity. After all, what does another round of shots really prove?
As my experiment extended beyond GDC and into everyday business life, the results were undeniable. Without the 50 drinks per week, my mental clarity and focus improved dramatically. My energy levels were higher, my productivity soared, and, as a bonus, I lost 15 pounds without any other major lifestyle changes. I still enjoy an occasional drink, but now, it's a deliberate choice rather than a default. If a drink doesn't add value to the moment, I skip it. This approach has brought intention not just to my drinking habits but to other parts of my life, making me more thoughtful and present.
This shift in mindset has bled into other areas of my life. Instead of mindlessly browsing for a show on Netflix, I ask myself if there's something specific I want to watch. If not, I choose something else to do. By replacing automatic habits with conscious decisions, I've become more self-aware and intentional in my actions. And in business, this emotional awareness is an asset. It attracts partners and clients who value genuine interactions over superficial gestures. If someone reacts poorly to me not drinking, that's a red flag -- they may not be the type of partner I want to do business with. On the other hand, those who appreciate authenticity and respect boundaries are exactly the kinds of people I want by my side.
Alcohol can still have a place, especially in moments of deliberate celebration. A well-timed toast can mark a meaningful occasion. But too often, the culture of excessive drinking in business devolves into a toxic display of endurance rather than connection. We forget that we, as individuals, shape the culture around us. By setting boundaries and demonstrating confidence in going against the grain, we inspire others to follow suit. This opens doors to new opportunities and ways of building relationships.
As leaders, we need to embody the traits we seek in others. By valuing authenticity and intentionality over conformity, we attract like-minded individuals who want to work together for the right reasons. This shift isn't just beneficial for business -- it's essential for building a sustainable, healthy work culture that prioritizes genuine connection over performative rituals.