Vincent Kwon picked up his first crystal methamphetamine pipe fresh out of high school.

Over the next 15 years, he would hurt his family and lose his friends for the drug, eventually sinking to homelessness and dealing as a regular at Chinatown game rooms and bars.

Then, one night in October 2004, Kwon stopped using the drug after hearing his wife shout to the heavens for help. He prayed, too — and has never since acted on any of his cravings.

But shortly after coming clean, Kwon learned quitting the drug wasn't the only obstacle he faced in turning his life around: Getting a job with a history of drug use and a criminal record proved impossible.

Kwon estimates he applied for 200 jobs over a few months. No one called him back for a second interview.

Even fast-food eateries turned him away.

So Kwon did something novel. If no one would hire him, he thought, he would hire himself.

With the help of a fellow churchgoer, Kwon opened a small Korean plate-lunch diner, Grindz, at Fort Street Mall in March. When he started, he pledged to employ only recovering crystal meth addicts.

So far, he has hired two employees — both of whom submit to random drug tests — and wants to bring in two more.

"Until you give addicts a future, the drug problem is not going to be solved," Kwon said, wearing a food-stained apron as he sat outside his shop on a recent afternoon. "I remembered how hard a time I had. You have to give them a chance."

Though there are no official figures, experts say former drug addicts like Kwon are more and more turning to small business — if they have the wherewithal and the support — because employers won't give them a chance. Even if former users aren't upfront about their pasts, business owners are suspect about gaps in resumes and also check criminal records.

"There's still a tremendous stigma involved," said Larry Williams, executive director of Addiction Treatment Services at The Salvation Army. "A lot of times, recovering addicts, they're in debt, they're on probation or parole. The possibility of relapse is fairly high in the first few years of recovery. More and more recovering people have started working for themselves."

CRYING OVER FIRINGS

B. Clean, a maintenance and janitorial service in Honolulu, was also started by a former crystal meth addict. Bernie Koizumi was discharged from the Women's Way drug rehabilitation center in 2001, and opened her business the same year while working as a cleaning woman and cook at Homeless Solutions Inc. in Mo'ili'ili. She employs only felons and former addicts.

Almost every weekday, Koizumi holds an addicts anonymous meeting with her employees. Those who appear under stress are kept under Koizumi's watchful eye, and given more support. Even so, Koizumi has had to fire 10 people who went back to drugs. When she bids for jobs, Koizumi hands over a proposal along with her life story, told in Salvation Army write-ups.

As her employees are healing, she says, so is she — the cravings still come and go, she is sometimes irritable and stressed, and she cries whenever she has to fire an employee, many of whom she considers family.

"I cannot pay them union wages," Koizumi said, leaning back in her chair and eyeing her office. "They're not bad guys. They just made bad choices."

Some 5,809 people were admitted to treatment centers statewide in 2004, according to federal statistics. A significant percentage of those former users, Williams said, will relapse within two years. Part of what keeps addicts clean is getting a steady job, with routine and stability.

But many businesses don't want the liability of hiring a former user. Even if they are hired, they often work low-paying positions.

To some, Williams said, dealing and doing drugs is better than flipping hamburgers.

"What's really needed is movement toward a career, something they could be proud of," Williams said. "Too often, the jobs former addicts get are minimum-wage and dead-end."

'HE SAVED ME'

Kwon has an impressive incentive for his two employees: Work drug-free at the eatery for two years, and be rewarded with a lunch wagon to be run like a franchise. The pledge is a big part of Kwon's philosophy on how to stay drug-free. He wants his employees to succeed, and he knows the only way they'll stay off of drugs is if they have hope for the future and a better life.

"Now, we do have a future," Kwon said. "You have to empower recovering addicts."

Kimo Wong, Kwon's head cook, has been clean since the eatery opened. He got into crystal meth 20 years ago, and met Kwon on the streets. When Kwon wanted to open his restaurant, he sought Wong out. Wong was sleeping in a vacant game room, high and emaciated.

"I can't believe anybody would do this for me," Wong said, taking a break in his small, warm kitchen. "He saved me. I was out on the streets. My life was not going anywhere."

Since Kwon hired him, Wong has moved in with his older sister, lost his crystal meth cravings and gained a few pounds. His family had stopped talking to him while he was on drugs, but embraced him when he returned clean. When Wong told his mother he got a job at the restaurant, she rushed to the store and bought him a new wardrobe.

Koizumi has nine employees at B. Clean, some of whom sleep on park benches because they can't afford a rental. She sometimes invites a few workers home to sleep on her couch or floor. On weekends, the troop goes fishing or swimming together with Koizumi's boyfriend and children.

"I'm an addict. We are all in the same boat," Koizumi said, tearing up. "We're all trying to get ahead. When somebody does go back (to drugs), it rips at me little by little."

HARD TO FIND WORK

Williams, of the Salvation Army, said a job counselor tries to help the hundreds of people who go through the nonprofit's outpatient and residential treatment programs every year.

About 600 people in prison are also counseled, he said.

The specialist helps recovering drug addicts prepare for an interview and write a resume.

Even with the help, he said, former addicts spend months looking for jobs and are sometimes so frustrated they return to drugs. The low unemployment rate has helped, but not by much.

"Sometimes, we just get them to volunteer to start to get a resume," Williams said. "If you don't have a resume at all and you're a recovering drug abuser, good luck."

Joe Duavit, admissions director at Habilitat, said the agency has been able to make friends in the community who are able to provide jobs. Habilitat graduates 35 people a year. About 65 percent have felony records, Duavit said.

"It's just a network," he said. "They see the work ethic of the residents. They get to know them."

Kwon, who says he'll hire more people even though he doesn't need them, said the state, city and treatment counselors should do a better job of thinking about what recovering addicts will do once they get clean and rejoin the community.

He has pledged to fight the stigma against former users one worker at a time, and said his mission starts with his customers who encounter an inspirational, biblical proverb at the eatery, positioned next to the day's top picks. And on a menu on the wall, under the prices for soft drinks, Kwon wrote, "Let Jesus transform your life. He did mine, ask me how."

Reach Mary Vorsino at mvorsino@honoluluadvertiser.com.