The Addicted Employee: The Workplace Problem Nobody Knows How to Talk About

I've been thinking lately about something we don't talk about very much in the workplace.

Addiction.

Not addiction as a social problem. Not addiction as a healthcare problem. Not addiction as something affecting the homeless guy under the bridge.

I'm talking about the alcoholic or addict sitting two offices or two cubicles down from you. I'm talking about the remote employee you suspect has a problem because they're often "off camera", quiet when they should be contributing, and when they do, their input is nonsensical.

The salesperson who was one of your top performers last year but now keeps showing up late or not at all.

The executive who can be absolutely brilliant on Tuesday and Wednesday, then strangely unavailable all day Thursday.

The employee whose work has become inconsistent. Whose excuses are becoming increasingly creative. Whose coworkers have started covering for him. Whose boss knows something isn't right but doesn't quite know what it is.

I know that employee.

I've been that employee.

And I also know how incredibly difficult it is for an employer to figure out what to do with someone like me.

The Problem May Be Bigger Than We Think

According to federal survey data, approximately 18% of American adults had a substance use disorder in 2023. Among adults 26 and older, the number was about one in six. Alcohol use disorder alone affected roughly 11% of American adults.

Think about that for a moment.

We shouldn't assume those percentages translate directly into identical percentages inside every company. They don't, but they are a pretty good representation.

But addiction doesn't stop at the office door.

People with substance use disorders are executives, accountants, lawyers, salespeople, engineers, construction workers, doctors, administrative assistants and entrepreneurs.

They're working right beside us.

And frequently, they're still functioning.

That's part of what makes this so difficult.

The Addicted Employee Isn't Necessarily a Bad Employee

One of the great misconceptions about addiction is that someone suffering from it simply becomes useless.

That wasn't my experience.

There were periods when I was drinking alcoholically and still capable of doing excellent work.

There were moments of brilliance.

There were also moments of unreliability, distraction, dishonesty, absenteeism and declining performance.

And therein lies the employer's dilemma.

If someone were terrible every day, the decision would be easy.

But what do you do with the employee who can still be outstanding 70 or 80 percent of the time?

What do you do when you know what they're capable of because you've seen it?

You may have invested years developing them.

People like them.

Customers trust them.

They possess knowledge that's difficult to replace.

And you keep thinking:

Maybe they'll straighten this out.

Meanwhile, the employee is probably thinking something very different.

What's Going Through the Addicted Employee's Mind?

I obviously can't speak for every alcoholic or addict.

But I can tell you what went through mine.

Don't let them find out.

Protect the job.

Protect the income.

Protect the reputation.

Explain away yesterday.

Perform really well today so everyone forgets what happened last week.

Promise yourself you'll drink less tonight.

Convince yourself that because you're still employed, things can't really be that bad.

And perhaps most dangerously:

Use the moments when you perform well as evidence that you don't really have a problem.

I could point to a successful meeting, a deal, a compliment from a boss or an important accomplishment and tell myself:

"See? An alcoholic couldn't do that."

Except an alcoholic just did.

Addiction creates an extraordinary capacity for rationalization.

The job itself can actually become part of the denial.

As long as I'm still employed, still producing, still earning money and occasionally being praised, I can continue arguing that everything is fine.

Until it isn't.

The most painful part for me, however, was letting down my boss and coworkers. These people were my friends, family, a big part of my identity, and people I truly cared about. I didn’t want to let them down, hurt them, or the company. It’s the worst part of being an alcoholic or addict. You always hurt the people you love the most.

What's Going Through the Employer's Mind?

The employer faces an entirely different set of questions.

Is this really addiction?

What if I'm wrong?

Can I even ask?

Is this a medical issue?

Do I send this person to HR?

Do I confront them?

Do I offer treatment?

How many chances do I give them?

Am I helping them—or enabling them?

At what point does compassion become unfair to everyone else?

At what point do I have to let them go?

Those are incredibly difficult questions.

Most managers were never trained to answer them.

Companies have policies. HR departments have procedures. Employee Assistance Programs may exist.

But a written policy doesn't necessarily prepare a manager for the very human experience of sitting across from a talented employee and saying:

"Something is wrong. We care about you. But this cannot continue."

There are legal considerations as well. Alcohol use disorder can qualify for protection under the Americans with Disabilities Act in certain circumstances, while current illegal drug use is treated differently. Employers may still hold employees with alcohol use disorder to the same performance and conduct standards applied to everyone else.

Which is another reason this shouldn't be improvised.

Companies need HR and legal guidance, clear policies, and managers who understand what they can—and cannot—do.

Compassion and Accountability Can Coexist

This may be the most important thing I've learned from being on the other side of the desk.

Helping an addicted employee does not mean protecting them from every consequence of their addiction.

Sometimes consequences are precisely what finally penetrate the denial.

Covering for missed work isn't necessarily compassion.

Making excuses isn't necessarily compassion.

Allowing an impaired employee to continue creating problems for coworkers isn't necessarily compassion.

Neither is humiliating them, gossiping about them or treating addiction as a moral failure.

There is a middle ground.

We can care deeply about the person while establishing firm boundaries around the behavior.

Alcoholics Anonymous understood this problem surprisingly early.

The original Alcoholics Anonymous book was published in 1939, and an entire chapter—"To Employers"—was devoted to dealing with alcoholism in the workplace.

Think about that.

More than 85 years ago, people already understood that alcoholism wasn't merely destroying families. It was walking into offices and factories every morning.

And employers didn't know what to do about it then either.

We Train Employees About Almost Everything Else

This is something I find particularly interesting.

Companies train employees on cybersecurity.

Sexual harassment.

Workplace safety.

Ethics.

Compliance.

Diversity.

Conflicts of interest.

Data privacy.

But how many organizations provide meaningful education about addiction?

Not simply:

"Here is our drug and alcohol policy."

But:

What does addiction actually look like?

What are the warning signs?

What should a manager do when they're concerned?

What shouldn't they do?

How should coworkers respond?

What resources are available?

What does recovery look like?

How does an employee returning from treatment successfully reintegrate into the workplace?

And how do we create a culture where someone can say:

"I think I need help"

before the situation becomes catastrophic?

That's a very different conversation.

Recovery and Work

There is another side to this story that matters enormously.

People recover.

Alcoholics recover.

Addicts recover.

And many become extraordinarily valuable employees again.

Work can actually become an important part of recovery. It provides structure, responsibility, dignity, relationships and a reason to get up in the morning.

But recovery doesn't eliminate accountability.

The recovering employee still has to show up.

Still has to perform.

Still has to rebuild trust.

Still has to repair damaged relationships.

Still has to accept that coworkers and employers may not immediately forget what happened.

Recovery isn't a demand that everyone trust us again.

It's an opportunity to become trustworthy again.

I think that's an important distinction.

Maybe We Need to Start Talking About It

I don't pretend to have the perfect corporate policy for addiction.

I'm not an HR professional, employment lawyer or addiction clinician.

I'm simply someone who has sat in the chair we're talking about.

I've been the talented employee who still had flashes of excellent performance.

I've been the person trying desperately to protect the job and the reputation while addiction was increasingly interfering with both.

I've rationalized.

I've hidden.

I've disappointed people.

And I've also experienced recovery.

So perhaps the first step isn't pretending employers should have all the answers.

Maybe the first step is simply acknowledging that this problem is already inside our companies.

The alcoholic isn't always passed out in an alley.

Sometimes he's wearing a suit.

Sometimes she's running your sales department.

Sometimes he's sitting in the executive suite.

And sometimes the most compassionate thing an employer can say is also the most difficult:

"We value you. We want you to get help. And this behavior cannot continue."

Those three sentences don't contradict one another.

Maybe that's where a healthier conversation about addiction in the workplace begins.