One of the greatest things about the craft beer renaissance is the almost endless variety of beers that are available in bars, restaurants, supermarkets, and liquor stores around the country. In most forward-thinking establishments, the choices of flavors and brands and styles is dizzying. It is a testament to the ability of the industry to adapt to what beer drinkers want today. It is also—for the industry—a royal pain in the ass.

Within the industry, the explosion of new brands and packages is called “SKU-mageddon.” Here’s why: The beer industry consists of the three-tier system: brewer, distributor and retailer. For all three, it is remarkably simpler and cheaper to brew, package, ship and retail 100 cases of Bud Light 12-pack cans than it is to ship 25 cases of Bud Light 12-packs, 25 cases of Blue Moon 12-packs, 25 cases of Fat Tire 12-packs and 25 cases of Corona 12-packs. That’s a vastly simplified example. Multiply that times 100 and you get my drift.

And the vast acceleration of SKUs is not the only change in the industry. We have gone from an industry of 4,000 distributors and 100 breweries selling 100 million barrels a year to an industry of 1,000 distributors and over 2,500 breweries selling over 200 million barrels (a barrel is the equivalent of two kegs, or 31 gallons). The top five brewers and importers currently sell over 90 percent of industry volume. The remaining 2,500-plus brewers share 10 percent. We have gone from a very limited number of SKUs to over 8,400. Meanwhile, as large grocery chains and big-box centers like Wal-Mart and Costco gain more and more of the nation’s grocery sales, we’re seeing a reduction in the number of independent outlets as well as a reduction in the number of bars.

So to reiterate: Many more breweries, many more brands and packages, selling much more volume of beer, through fewer distributors to fewer but larger retail outlets. Within that structure, we’re seeing more brewers coming out with more packages—craft brewers adding more brewing capacity like crazy as well as an average of one new brewery opening every day—but we’re not seeing the supermarket chains expand refrigerated shelf space at anywhere near the same rate. However, on the bar and restaurant side, we are seeing them add draft tap handles furiously to keep up with (and possibly exceed) the growth in keg varieties offered.

And then you have distribution. Distributors are mostly independently owned businesses that have been consolidating over the last 20 years and continuing to this day. There’s a common perception in the craft beer community that distribution capacity has not kept up with the pace of new craft brewers and brands. However, from where I sit, that simply does not reflect reality. As distributors have grown, they have become more technologically adept at being able to handle the tsunami of new SKUs. In addition, several craft-only niche distributors have popped up in certain markets to take up the slack.

Consider that one of the country’s largest beer distributors, Houston-based Silver Eagle Distributors, handled 400 SKUs five years ago. Today, the company handles over 1,300 SKUs among eight different distribution centers and is adding more every day.

As I mentioned before, one of the major bottlenecks in getting all those delicious brews into the consumers’ hands is the limited refrigerated shelf space in supermarkets and convenience stores. Thanks to Einstein’s law, two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time, more’s the pity, so something has to give. And remember, keeping all the beer on the shelf fresh and rotated is an additional challenge.

Some retailers have opted to place slower-moving craft brands on the warm shelf, like red wine. The problem with that is many craft brands are unpasteurized, and storing them in ambient temperatures for any length of time can alter the taste of the beer, and not for the positive.

On the bar and restaurant side, we have the opposite problem. Many establishments have added so many draft taps—20, 50, 100 taps in one establishment is now not uncommon—that it becomes almost impossible to keep the beers that fill those taps fresh. And don’t get me started on keeping the lines clean. And in draft beer, it’s nearly all unpasteurized. Data firm GuestMetrics recently issued a report that while the number of craft beer brands sold in bars and restaurants grew about 22 percent in the first quarter 2013, craft beer volume grew only about 5 percent. In other words, we’re selling less beer per brand, which means less beer flowing per tap. That’s great for diversity and choice, but could be a red flag for beer quality on tap if the volume falls below a threshold.

“While we don’t necessarily see a shake-out in the near term, looking out at the next three to five years, the question will be the sustainability of the economics of a lot of the new entrants given the declining volume per available brand,” writes Bill Pecoriello of GuestMetrics.

It’s not just the explosion of new brewers and brands coming down the pike to watch out for, but also the amount of brewing capacity that is being built. You may have read about Sierra Nevada Brewing Co., New Belgium Brewing Co. and Oskar Blues Brewery building new breweries in Asheville, NC. Or Lagunitas building a new brewery in Chicago. Those are just the tip of the iceberg. Hundreds of other smaller breweries are a-building and expanding brewing capacity at a furious pace, not to mention the number of new breweries being built and coming online nearly every day.

If you slept through your Economics 101 class in college, here’s the one thing you need to know about excess manufacturing capacity in any industry with high fixed costs (like the beer industry): When demand doesn’t keep up with the building of manufacturing capacity, you end up with oversupply, and prices fall. You may say, “Hey, that’s a good thing.” But in the long term, it means many breweries will start losing money. The result is a flood of bad or old beer showing up in the market. It happened in 1998. Will it happen again? It all depends on whether beer demand keeps up with the fast pace of supply creating.

But hey, let’s not end on a sour note. The facts as they are today suggest that, yes, consumer demand for local, tasty, hand-crafted beer will meet or exceed supply. So far, so good. But the jury is out for 2014 and 2015.

I know, it’s not exactly a monster claim. Put down the phone, Matilda, no need to ring up the Guinness World Records people. But it’s something, and I’ll take whatever glory I can get at this point in my career.

To those who have been gunning for this distinction, I regret to report that I’ve had several unfair advantages. My mother, father and grandparents on both sides were soda bottlers and beer distributors, so I started attending both soda bottler and beer distributor conventions while still wet behind the ears. Pepsi convention in Orlando, Schweppes in Vegas, 7-UP (owned by Philip Morris at the time) in Richmond, Lone Star in Houston, Cerveceria Cuauhtemoc in Grand Cayman, S&P (now called Pabst) in Los Angeles, California Cooler in Chicago, etc. etc. Yes, at a Pepsi meeting I met Joan Crawford, and though I was a child, for the record she didn’t beat me with a wire hanger. And yes, at a Lone Star meeting I met Willie Nelson. And got my picture taken with Sonny and Cher, curiously enough.

Upon graduation from college and being cast into the cold cruel world by my wretched parents, I went to work for a Miller beer distributor in Houston, which also sold a myriad of other beers, fizzy waters, teas and juices whose parent companies—all vying for the fleeting attention of their distributor—threw elaborate shows for us to attend. Again I was on the distributor convention road. Then I started Beer Business Daily, which eventually afforded me the invitations of most all brewers and importers to attend their national distributor meetings each year. Anheuser-Busch and MillerCoors even took to having two meetings a year. Plus the National Beer Wholesalers Association’s two meetings a year, plus the Craft Brewers Conference, plus SAVOR, plus the GABF, plus the myriad state distributor meetings I attend each year. I wasn’t allowed at first to attend the annual Beer Institute meetings since August Busch III blackballed me. But the late Beer Institute president Jeff Becker would sneak me in. “Don’t worry, pal,” he said with a smile and a wink. “He doesn’t even know what you look like. Just don’t draw attention to yourself.” I sat in the back and never made eye contact with anybody.

Then I started a wine and spirits trade publication and started attending all of their conventions, seminars and confabs as well. Meetings meetings meetings. Sometimes I’d go to the restroom and accidentally board a plane heading to an industry conference. Sometimes I’d kiss my wife, Lulu, on the cheek good night, lay my head on my pillow—and wake up on stage at the Craft Brewers Conference in San Diego.

Pretty soon I achieved Executive Platinum status on American Airlines, which allows me to board the plane before others and sit in the front where there are no chickens, pigs or, most importantly, human babies. And the beer is free. Being from San Antonio—not exactly a hub—I naturally have to fly to Dallas to fly anywhere else. I fly to Dallas so much that sometimes I forget myself and fly to Dallas just to pee and then fly back home. I’m not certain, but I may have a second family in Dallas. I think they live under the bar at the Terminal D Admirals Club, and they might be Vietnamese. If you see them, tell them I love them, and green cards and cash are forthcoming as promised.

The golden age of beer company distributor conferences, I fear, has come and gone. In the old days, the big brewers’ conventions held for their distributors were a spectacle to behold, although the degree of spectacle depended largely on market share. Anheuser-Busch, which had 50 percent of the market, threw the best parties. Lobsters piled up a mile high on ice, free Dove Bars (don’t go well with beer, though), those giant shrimp people call prawns, George Strait playing in one room and Elton John in another, August Busch III arriving dramatically on the putting green self-piloting his jet helicopter; his son August IV arriving much more modestly in a fleet of armored black Suburbans piloted by mercs in the employ of Blackwater, later to ferry him and his entourage late night to clubs. Those were the days.

There were just a few hundred people in attendance, but it had the aura of a circus. (In fact, Brewers Association chief Charlie Papazian appeared on stage in a clown outfit. I can’t remember why.) When Charlie asked for a show of hands of who was planning on getting into the beer business, about half raised their hands. Later, Boston Beer Co.’s Jim Koch practically pleaded with the crowd to remember to put code dates on their beer and make sure it’s fresh. I think he foresaw what was coming, but I don’t think most people had a clue of what he was talking about.

The exuberance and electricity in the air were palpable. Craft beer was hitting the national radar, and rags-to-riches stories abounded. Since 1985, the craft beer segment had not experienced less than 20 percent growth per year. In fact, for most of the years between 1985 and 1997, volume was up 40 to 60 percent, and in 1987 it was up more than 100 percent. These were heady numbers, and everybody from disenchanted Wall Street financiers to burned-out engineers to young get-rich-quick swashbucklers was looking longingly at our little industry.

Pete Slosberg of Pete’s Wicked Ale was our god. He signed a baseball for me. I can’t think why. Our distributorship acquired the rights to his brand in Houston and then proceeded to ride that brand to amazing heights, rivaling Sam Adams, only to then ride it down again until he sold the brand to The Gambrinus Co. in 1998, which discontinued it last year.

I also met Andy Klein, who started a contract brewery called Spring Street Brewery, which made Wit Beer. He later succeeded in creating Wit Capital, an online investment bank that sold shares directly to the public over the Web. Eventually Wit Beer faded away, but he sold Wit Capital for millions.

There was a hot beer that year called Rhino Chasers. It too faded away. Anheuser-Busch was soon to introduce a red amber beer called Red Wolf. Yep, it faded to obscurity. I met yet another guy who was funding his beer on the Vancouver stock exchange as a penny stock. It was contract brewed, naturally. It is not available anymore.

What we didn’t know back in 1994 was that this euphoric craft beer bubble was about to burst. The 40 high-volume increases we had seen since 1985 were to turn into a 1 percent gain in 1997. The frenzy of new contract-brewed brands had hit a fever pitch, and people were shipping beer to distributors regardless of demand. Suddenly, beer of questionable taste and quality started backing up the supply chain until distributors and retailers said “no more.” Shipments were refused and a shakeout ensued. Strong brewers continued to grow, but others fell like flies.

She is what demographers call a millennial. She’s never known the world before cellphones or the Internet. In fact, she’s unaware of a lot of inconveniences we 40-somethings had to live with. When I reflect on this, it kind of ticks me off.

Off the top of my head, here are the top 15 things that Emily has never had to deal with:

1. Sitting by a radio for hours to try to tape your favorite songs.

2. Looking up everything in our versions of Google: The Encyclopedia Britannica and The Yellow Pages.

3. Saving a song to two floppy disks.

4. Getting film developed.

5. Having a Sony Walkman with only a fast-forward button and rewinding by having to flip the tape and fast-forward, then re-flip it back to check if it’s in the right place.

6. Buying an entire album to get one good song.

7. Calling a girl’s house and having to speak to her father.

8. Waiting for your sister to get off the phone so you could dial up on the Internet (I didn’t have Internet or a computer until I graduated from college.)

9. Pay phones.

10. Three TV channels (4 if you count PBS).

11. Cartoons only on Saturday mornings.

12. Tinfoil on bunny-ear antennas to get TV reception.

13. Rotary phones (look it up).

14. Liquid paper (look it up).

15. Making plans to meet before you go out.

This is by no means a comprehensive list. I could go on for another eight pages with this tedious compendium. Oh, and here’s the best: having only three beers to choose from, and all of them being light lagers.

Emily is blissfully unaware of any of these inconveniences, and I have to say, I kind of resent her for it. Such a pampered youth was hers. Mine was the last generation to call coffee “coffee,” and we wouldn’t dream of paying more than a dollar for it. At the airport Starbucks, Emily orders a 13-shot venti soy hazelnut vanilla cinnamon white mocha with extra white mocha and caramel. I order a coffee, black.