Yes, and for good cause. It happened on May 7, 1971, and to this day, 51 years later, I remain ashamed by it. I will tell you the back story, but it doesn’t absolve my guilt.

Upon graduating from law school I accepted an offer to work on the tax staff of Arthur Andersen & Co., an international CPA firm, in their Washington, DC office. My starting salary was $1,000 a month, with no overtime pay but with potential for an annual bonus. I thought it was quite generous and more than I needed, really. I worked for Arthur Andersen for 21 months and received favorable reviews. One of the tax managers told me that I was on the partner track. Years later the firm got identified as an active participant in the Enron scandal. Virtually all of its offices had to close and many of its partners filed bankruptcy. In retrospect one could say it was a good thing I got off that partner track, the shameful circumstances notwithstanding.

Our tax staff was a close-knit group. We were five different personalities, but we worked well together, all situated in the same room with five desks, and we became friends. My co-workers were Bob, Jeff, Mark, and Kent. Bob was the first staff person to welcome me to Arthur Andersen. I’ll always remember that I started my employment on a Monday and Bob was getting married the following Saturday, and even though he knew me for only 5 days he invited me to his wedding (which I did not attend). Jeff was the handsome dude, the man about town “ladies’ man”. Mark was the oldest of us, married with children. I roomed with Mark for 3 weeks in Chicago at a firm sponsored continuing education conference, and really enjoyed his company and wonderful sense of humor. I’ll never forget, though, the all-night return trip from Chicago to D.C. He was driving at record speeds and when I asked why, he just said he was so horny since he wasn’t with his wife for 3 weeks. He practically pushed me out of his car when we got to my apartment. 

And then there was Kent, a shorter fellow, also married, who came to work every day wearing his horn-rimmed glasses, short sleeve white shirt, and black tie. There came an occasion when Kent invited all of us to a “party” on Saturday night at his Northern Virginia apartment. We all accepted and looked forward to a fun social gathering, with drinks on the house. Bob and his wife, Mark and his wife, and Jeff and his ravishing date all came. I did as well, solo. It’s safe to say that all of us were aghast when we realized this was a Tupperware party, with Kent’s wife pitching Tupperware products to us for purchase and also trying to recruit us to become Tupperware sale associates who could hold our own parties. As I recall our uniform response was “we’ll think about it, and thanks for the cookies and coffee”. After that incident we tried to keep a respectable distance from Kent.

While we shared a work room all week we made it a practice to go out for lunch together at least once every two weeks, always on a Friday. And the truth be known, on many a Friday some of us didn’t make it back to the office that afternoon. Our favorite luncheon spot was an Italian restaurant a few blocks from the office. It was at those lunches that we shared what was going on in our lives. On occasion Jeff even described his recent dates, happily in vivid details. This sharing of plans and desires, however, is what led to my fall from grace at Arthur Andersen & Co. That happened because during the first week of May, 1971, I was working late at the office. No one else in the tax department was there. I was working on a client matter and realized that I needed a specific piece of client data that I knew the tax manager on the job had. I went to his office to see if the information was on his desk. I did not find it there, but his desk drawer was open so I decided to look there also. I did not find the client information, but what I did find was a sheet listing the bonuses and salary increases for all tax staff personnel, including me. The amounts were significantly less than what we expected. The five of us worked long hours that tax season and we thought we would be rewarded, particularly by generous bonuses. It was difficult in those times to put a down payment on a house, buy a new car, afford a family vacation, or start saving for the future on just our salaries.

On Thursday of that week I made the mistake of sharing the bad news with my co-workers. I did not disclose specific amounts to them, but just said they were likely to be quite disappointed and should think twice before signing on to any financial commitments. Why did I tell them anything at all? I know now, of course, that I should not have done so. At the time, I think, I was most concerned about Bob because he had told me that he and his wife were going to make an offer on a house that weekend. Also, those guys were my friends. I felt uncomfortable (stupidly, I admit) knowing something that may affect them and not telling them about it. The next day, Friday, May 7, one of them (and I’ve never asked who, although I have a suspicion) went to the tax manager to complain about the proposed compensation. When asked how did he know about what was being proposed he apparently replied that I was privy to the information. I was immediately summoned to the tax manager’s office where I explained that I saw the compensation summary in the open drawer of his desk, and essentially I was summarily fired. I was never given the reason but if I was writing my own indictment I would say it was on grounds of misconduct, breaching confidentiality, and professional mistrust. I should have been shot on sight.

When I left the office that afternoon I walked somewhat aimlessly in downtown Washington. I was stunned. I only remember entering a Catholic church, asking for forgiveness and praying for strength to get through the ordeal. I lit a candle because that’s what Aunt Ann always did in stressful times. That weekend and most of the next week is a blur in my memory. I know I never called anyone in my family to let them know what happened. I was too ashamed to do that. I had no roommate or close friends at the time. Frankly, I don’t know what I did other than cry on my own. Then my tax staff colleagues called me and asked that I meet them for lunch that Friday. They wanted me to know how bad they felt about what happened and to encourage me to move on. At one point the suggestion was made that I go west. They said, you’re still young enough (not sure that was accurate, as I was 27), single, and have no dependents, go to California, maybe San Francisco where everyone wanted to go at the time, get a job there, and have fun”. And so I did just that , except I found no job there!

That is the regretful story of my dishonorable discharge from Arthur Andersen & Co., those bastards. I’m owning up to it. Since my motive was benevolent some might say it’s a classic example of the expression “no good deed goes unpunished”. I can’t possibly feel that way. Yes, getting fired and dealing with the shame of it was punishing, but my good deed, if you let me call it that, was blessed as it brought forth the circumstance for meeting the love of my life. Thank you Bob, Jeff, Mark and Kent, and thank you Divine Guidance in that church. I’ve come to peace with my failures, so it’s time to extinguish that candle. 

In case you’re wondering did Claudia ever know, the answer is yes. Until now she is the only person I’ve told about my firing. She accepted it, but only after I sang to her in my best Johnny Cash impression, “if I were a whistleblower and you were a lady, would you marry me anyway, would you have my baby”. She said “yes” three times.

I also wish to take this opportunity to confess that, yes, it was me who leaked the draft Roe v. Wade opinion to Politico. Bad habits, you see, are hard to break.