Saved by the Bell

TRADITION TWELVE: Anonymity is the spiritual foundation of all our traditions, ever reminding us to place principles before personalities.



I had my last drink on March 26, 1972. I had no problem with a Higher Power. Just looking up into the heavens at night convinced me that something a lot larger than mankind was at work. Though life had improved dramatically after I stopped drinking, the first few years were difficult employment-wise. I had a couple of dead-end jobs, and by my fourth AA birthday I was still scuffling. It appeared that in my line of work (sales) most companies were reluctant to hire someone like me: single, in my 40s, with some blank spaces on my resumé. In discussions with older members, I got suggestions that I didn’t need to be completely honest about my AA affiliation when applying for work. However I wanted to be completely honest, and usually told my would-be employer that I was a member of AA. In some cases it didn’t seem to matter, but some prospective employers who obviously knew nothing about AA seemed horrified at the thought of an alcoholic working for them.



In an effort to improve my resumé and employment prospects, I was taking evening courses in business administration at our local community college. When one of my classmates found out that I was looking for work he suggested I apply for a job with the company where he worked. He explained that the job would be advertised in our local paper, and that I seemed to have the credentials his company was looking for. It looked like a wonderful opportunity.



I carefully scrutinized the employment wanted ads and, sure enough, in a couple of weeks the job was posted. I sent in an application and, after some preliminary back and forth discussion, was asked to come in for an interview. This was to take place at 2:30 p.m. The two gentlemen for whom I’d be working interviewed me. They had a tall stack of resumés on their desk; they had been interviewing all day and looked tired. This, they told me, was the last interview for the day. They seemed to approve of my qualifications; one of them had a similar background to mine, including business administration at the same community college I was attending.



After going over all the key points, I was asked, “Do you belong to any clubs or organizations?” Just as I was about to tell them I was a member of AA, there was a loud “Ding! Ding!” in the hallway. One of the men said, “It’s the coffee wagon. Would you like a cup?” To which I replied, “Sure.” After we drank our coffees the interview was over and their question about clubs or organizations was forgotten.



I left the meeting feeling good about my chances of getting the job. Later, after all the candidates were interviewed, I was asked to come in for another interview. This one would probably determine if the job was mine. Once again the interview took place in mid-afternoon, and again my interview was the last of the day. As in the prior interview, things went well and the men seemed satisfied with my credentials. After we had discussed all the relevant points, I was again asked, “Do you belong to any clubs or organizations?” Being a slow learner I was about to tell them of my AA membership, but before I could get a word out, once again we heard a “Ding! Ding!” The men asked me if I’d like a cup of coffee, and I accepted. We drank our coffees, and, amazingly, the subject of clubs or organizations never came up again.



I got a job that turned out to be very rewarding (from which I’m now retired), thanks to the intervention of the coffee wagon. The chances that it was a coincidence that the coffee wagon saved me—not once but twice—is a prospect too remote to contemplate. I’m thoroughly convinced that someone upstairs was telling me to “Shut up.” I know that if the coffee wagon had not arrived when it did, I probably wouldn’t have gotten that wonderful job.