The only word that applies to all people classified as disabled is “diverse”. The reasons someone struggles to fit into the conventional working world might be physical, psychological, social, or some combination of all three. Sometimes a person’s differences are obvious. Other people, not so much. However, with a change in perspective a difference can become a strength rather than a weakness. Here’s an article written by someone who’s experienced both employers who label differences as disability and one that sees diversity as untapped potential.
You may have heard of “invisible” disabilities. Mine’s so invisible even I didn’t know about it until I was diagnosed in my mid-thirties. Until then, I really thought everyone else was just better at coping with the exhausting stress of social situations. I did well in school because there’s no “Socializing” section of any standardized test and no class that grades how comfortable the student is in unstructured or unfamiliar situations. I got through graduate school and started my working life with no idea that the working world does “grade” social skills. I grew to loathe the word “networking” as applied to job-hunting, especially once I realized how vital it is to successfully getting and keeping a job. I wondered why everyone else was willing to subject themselves to so much torture just to get a living.
Despite my education, I found myself working as an office temp at a bit more than minimum wage. Considering I’d been given the impression that the point of getting a college education was to escape minimum wage jobs with no benefits, I felt like a failure and a disappointment to my family. I was diagnosed with depression and put on medication for it, but that didn’t solve the problem, because it wasn’t the right diagnosis. I didn’t understand it—if anything I was overqualified for the work I was doing. As far as I knew, I was doing everything right. I showed up on time, did what was asked, and at least tried to get along with anyone I met. After a while, though, the temp agencies just stopped calling me.
I got my one and only full-time job several years after finishing grad school. That one lasted five years, and the reason it did was that my boss was kind and willing to accept what I still thought were personality quirks in exchange for my unique skills. It took me some time to learn how to do the job, but once I did, I started streamlining it and putting together ways to improve my own performance. I like figuring out ways to use my computer skills to cut down on errors and speed up routine work. Unfortunately, when my boss retired, I was informed there was no longer a place for me in that office.
When I was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome (meaning I’m in the autism galaxy), a lot of things suddenly made sense. Other people were willing to go through the torture of networking and put up with the bizarre tacit rules of social relationships in the workplace because it wasn’t that bad for them. They really did have what was (and still is) to me arcane and baffling knowledge—they could perceive and respond to a whole river of social cues and information that I could only sometimes detect. I wasn’t failing over and over again because of some character flaw, I was failing because I literally don’t think the way other people assume I do. I’m like a Clydesdale trying to run a race against a field of Thoroughbreds—of course I’m going to come in last, I’m not built to run races! My strengths lie elsewhere. I don’t think there are words to explain what a relief it was to realize I didn’t have to keep trying to be something I’m not and never can be. I still had to try and “pass” as nothing more than somewhat eccentric if I wanted to get and keep a job, but I could stop feeling bad about needing my evenings and weekends to myself or going to pieces over things that barely ruffled the feathers of those around me.
The diagnosis and personal reconciliation, unfortunately, didn’t remedy the problems I’ve had in getting and holding on to a job. I don’t dare tell a potential or actual employer that I have a “disability”. I put that word in quotes because it’s part of the problem—it directs attention to the negative aspects of having a non-standard brain and rejects even the possibility that there might be positive aspects. A lot of well-meaning standard-brained people aren’t seeing the whole picture because of words like “disability”, and that’s a pity for everyone. Announcing up front that I’m going to need some accommodations to do the work is a guaranteed route to unemployment. “Accommodations” is another troublesome word, since it implies that you, the employer, will be going out of your way and making adjustments to procedures and routines to benefit me without gaining anything in exchange. Again, the idea that I might have something unique to offer in exchange for your effort is precluded by the use of the wrong word.
Like that Clydesdale trying to run in a Thoroughbred race, speed isn’t my best feature. I don’t even fit into the starting gate. Recently, however, I’ve found a job that doesn’t ask me to fit into boxes meant for Thoroughbreds. I’m not saddled with tasks under time pressure with a rider literally breathing down my neck and counting me a failure if I don’t place in the top three racers. Now I have the right tools and environment to put my Clydesdale strength to work. Instead of a racing saddle on a race track, I have a draft harness and a wide variety of jobs to do. Here at Grow-Hub, I’m not in competition with those around me, we’re working together to get the job not just done but done right. I feel valued for my strengths and comfortable with even those in authority for the first time in my working life. I’m being seen and appreciated for the things I’m uniquely good at, rather than being measured and found wanting according to a standard I was born outside of.
After some twenty years of stress, underemployment, unemployment, and failure, I’ve found the right place for me. I’m relieved and happy to have done so. What makes me sad is that places like this one are so very rare. I imagine that at least some of the standard-minded people stuck running around the Thoroughbred track every day would be much happier if they could find a workplace that looked for ability rather than disability.