When you get the unexpected invitation to a Promocations trip, you’re elated. Unbelievable! That’s awesome!
And then as the getaway approaches, you’re not so sure it’s for you after all.
You arrive in Cabo, and before you can even unpack your sunscreen, someone presses a glass of champagne into your hand. It’s the all-inclusive resort’s way of saying welcome to paradise. For a split second, you think about refusing, but that feels like making a scene. So you smile and hold the glass a while. And finally, the bubbles still bubbling, you pass it to your wife and confess to a colleague that you’re not drinking these days.
You feel doubted, anyway, as though people assume there must be some explanation for what has led to this newfound sobriety. And it’s weird to say sobriety, because you’re not trying to make it that big of a deal. You’re just not drinking.
But, actually, you’re met with congratulations and encouragement.
“Unbelievable! That’s awesome!”
This is how your first Promocation begins. It’s a trip you once assumed was just an industry frat party, now experienced three months into at least a year without alcohol.
You didn’t quit for any single dramatic reason. You quit for all the reasons people quit – health, money, sleep, setting a better example for your kids, regaining control. Mostly, you were just drinking too much. It’s not forever, probably, maybe – but it’s for now, and for sure.
This is a big test of whether you can make it through an industry gathering without the usual liquid armor.
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Promocations is the brainchild of Vault Promotions’ Josh Robbins and brandivate’s Bill Petrie, two Tennessee good guys who are themselves excellent mixers. It’s a series of trips – some on cruise ships, some at all-inclusives – with the tagline of “Promo. Vacation. Bond. Repeat.” This is equal parts networking retreat, mastermind group and summer camp for grown-ups in the branded merch industry.
Suppliers sign up and invite distributor guests. Throughout the week, Robbins and Petrie mix and match the Promocationers in various ways to spark natural partnerships. There’s a speed-dating component where suppliers get a tight window to showcase their product lines and hear what distributors actually need. Then there are shared activities – group dinners, silly games, a boat trip – that break down barriers and build familiarity.
The format works. Ask someone like Susan Lewandowski of Bel Promo, who swears she won’t miss a single one because of how many deals it unlocks. Months after Cabo, you run into a distributor who rattles off multiple sales she closed directly from the connections she made there. Everyone leaves with new business.
But your glass was half empty going in because the social side of your work was always presented in a certain way. Petrie himself has described the industry as “founded on complete paranoia and mild alcoholism.” This is a business where clients get wined and dined. Bonding happens at the hotel bar, and trade show days bleed into late nights. For years, you leaned into that culture, telling yourself alcohol was the key to fitting in, loosening up and making connections.
Promocations, you figured, would be a sun-soaked version of the same, a rager where people slurred about drinkware options.
Not at all, it turns out. Each day’s events start bright and early, and everyone is on time and alert. The conversations are engaging. Easier than expected. Shop talk blends smoothly with the sharing of personal details about life and home. Most of these people were strangers 36 hours earlier, but here they’re all along for the same ride.
There’s the silent disco night, when everyone straps on headphones with two channels of music blinking red or green. The dance floor is full of people moving in completely different rhythms, mouthing words to completely different songs. You slip on your headset and try to let go. But you’re not a confident dancer with alcohol, and you’re certainly not one without it. Drinks might’ve made you think you looked smoother. Sober, you’re just a guy self-conscious in ridiculous headphones. You dance half-heartedly, then get bored and leave early.
You feel no guilt when people ask the next day where you disappeared to. Maybe you’ve grown out of the version of yourself that felt compelled to fight through something you don’t really enjoy all that much.
Maybe that’s not a loss at all.
The next day, you’re out on the water. The boat is stocked with beer and tropical libations, but instead of sampling them all, you grab the mask and fins. You’ve never snorkeled before.
When you dive in, the Pacific cool hits first, then the colors. Schools of fish flashing silver in the sunlight. Reefs like abstract sculptures. You surface, gulping air and laughing to the Promocationer next to you at how surreal it feels. No haze. No dullness. Just sharp, crisp joy. It’s hard to believe that you can see it all so clearly.
This is what presence is. The thing you thought you’d be missing by not drinking is replaced by something better.
One night a friend pulls you aside and says you seem different. It’s meant kindly, but you fear an undertone. Are you less approachable? Less game? You wonder if abstaining changes how others see you more than how you see yourself. But as the days pass, you realize the conversations aren’t any shallower. If anything, they’re sharper. You remember names, details and ideas. The follow-ups the next morning don’t require reassembly.
By the final night, you’ve settled in. The resort’s bar is packed with your group and other vacationers for karaoke, which you’ve always loved, but told yourself you required liquid courage. Tonight, people push you to sing anyway, and you take the mic with a half- full glass in your left hand. The song is Bowling For Soup’s “1985,” a tongue-in-cheek lament for lost youth and days gone by. You take on the singer’s whiny voice, with close-enough pitch, and the whole bar sings along.
It’s the same as it ever was. There’s even the beer spilled all over your shirt – Heineken 0.0.
And when you leave Cabo, you realize Promocations wasn’t the frat party you assumed. It was professional, collaborative and – surprisingly – joyful. The people around you weren’t there to party; they were truly there to connect, learn and ultimately do business. To see that, maybe it took evolving from the person that needed a two-drink buzz to feel protected.
What held it all together, for the event and yourself, were the conversations and the shared experiences.
The next Promocations event leaves port in November, and more events are planned for 2026. You’d encourage anyone who can make it happen to give it a chance. And the same with sobriety, or “just not drinking right now.”
You might find that you’re not missing anything – only seeing more clearly.
