The importance of making space for autism in the workplace

I don’t want to be boring. Or preachy. Or that person. I want the world to understand. I want to take responsibility and be the change.So, I wrote this. And it was scary to do as it’s very personal.

I work in marketing and new business. I’m a wife. I’m married to a creative. I’m a working parent. I’m a registered carer. I’m a snowboarder. A dancer. A really bad singer. I used to study art. I’m dyslexic. I’m an older sister, a friend, a confidant, a boss. I am many things - not defined by just one of them.

My 10-year-old son is a student. A fierce and loyal friend. A daring race BMXer. A gold medal winning regional hockey goalkeeper (under 10s). An average piano player. An avid F1 fan (McLaren). He has the maths age of a 19-year-old and the reading age of a 14-year-old. He has a special interest in planes and, honestly, I’m pretty sure after 10,000 hours of flight simulation practice he could successfully land a commercial plane if the pilot was incapacitated. He wants to help me with presentations and is full of ideas about how we should launch our suite of AI products. He simply doesn’t know how cool he is.

But his writing is barely legible. He can’t spell (a proud three out of 60 on his latest spelling test). He can’t use a knife and fork. He can’t be left alone due to anxiety. He doesn’t know the hidden rules of social situations that neurotypicals automatically take for granted. I’m certain when he’s older, if he turned up for an 11am job interview at an agency with a beer fridge in reception, he’d be tempted to crack-one open, thinking it would be perfectly okay to do. No ill intent, just not knowing the hidden rules of society that no one talks about and everyone takes for granted.

My point is that both he and I are many, sometimes conflicting, things. And sometimes they don’t add up. My son has an exceptionally creative brain and a huge capacity for problem-solving. But he does not conform to some norms. He has autism and ADHD.

Today in the working world, where there is unprecedented change, there is more pressure than ever on resources and budgets to do more with less. My concern is that employers or peers will simply overfocus on an unexpected behaviour or hurdle and dismiss his potential because it feels too hard, too time consuming or too costly. Working with people who sometimes think and behave differently can require colleagues and peers to take professional risks. It requires people who are time-pressed to be proactive in order to figure out how to adapt their own thinking or ways of working. It requires investment.

It’s okay to acknowledge that diversity can sometimes be challenging. Figuring out how to work with anyone different from you is hard. Some days with my boy, my brain starts to melt. But there is often unsolicited joy.  

I’m fairly certain my son has it in him to dramatically change the fortunes of a company (or his own company), if given the chance to do so. But only if we don’t follow the herd and embrace that messy middle while we all figure out how to work with each other. 

My simple hope in writing this piece is that someone without lived experience of neurodiversity absorbs a little of what I’ve shared and approaches a working relationship with more empathy and flexibility than they would have if they hadn’t read it.