Last updated on November 26, 2023
Getting a job is difficult when you’re autistic. The data aren’t promising: 85 percent of autistic college-graduates lack full-time employment in their desired field.
The job interview process works against us in ways it might not work against the physically disabled. Sadly, I’ve noted time and time again, we autistics make other people uncomfortable.
I know outgoing, charming, socially skilled disabled individuals thriving in their workplaces. They attend parties, they serve on committees, and they consider many colleagues friends. One of these amazing people told me, as well-intentioned advice, that if you’re happy and enjoy life, of course, you’re going to succeed against the odds.
Data support this: positive people do in fact receive better evaluations, more promotions, and earn more money over their careers. Personality traits matter in all cultures. This isn’t an issue of economic models or religions or anything else.
Autistic traits are perceived as negativity.
Nobody wants to work with the angry, serious, intense, anti-social loner.
The Americans with Disabilities Act doesn’t address the desire employers have for a social fit… and I’m not going to fit in no matter how much I try. And try I do. Over and over.
Since I started this blog in 2007, its primary focus has been my career or lack thereof. I’ve been fixated on why my employment history suggests I’m unlikely to have even an abbreviated career as an employee.
Yes, I have taught at eight post-secondary institutions. As an adjunct, I’ve worked as long as five years for a university. That’s not bad, but that’s also not a full-time career. As a full-time instructor, I’ve had one-year posts. That’s it. A year here, a year there. Sometimes, with part-time work before or after the full-time contract.
Problems with employers started during the job interview process.
Analyzing the past, there have been clear signals during job interviews that I would struggle. The statements made by hiring committee members and their leading questions were red flags, which I didn’t always recognize. This is a list of things people said that should have (and will now) concern me:
- “You seemed really distant until we started talking about the work.”
- “You don’t seem to like small talk.”
- “You don’t smile a lot, do you?”
- “You’re either intense or disengaged.”
- “Are you okay? Do you need a break?”
- “Do you have any problems sharing a space?”
- “Are you sure you can connect with students?”
- “We expect some schedule flexibility.”
- “Everyone has to help promote the program.”
- “We are a very social group.”
- “Why didn’t you ever finish and publish your theses or dissertation?”
- “Why would you write so bluntly on sensitive topics?”
- “Why do you make fun of academia in some of your writings?”
- “Why have you spoken and presented at so many autism events?”
These are only some of the statements and questions I’ve encountered during job interviews, paraphrased. Several themes emerge: social skills, flexibility, and discretion. I lack social skills. I need order and routines. I write and say my truth, expressing my opinions publicly.
That last question, probing why have I spoken and presented on autism frequently, is a thinly veiled effort to request disclosure. Of course, if I write autobiographically, it should be obvious I’m autistic and disabled. It’s not like an interviewer has to work hard to locate the podcast, blogs, or published works.
As for being impolitic, I spent too many years not expressing my views or stating verifiable facts that might be unpleasant. At 52 years old, I’m certainly not going to tiptoe around what is like to be an autistic individual in academic settings. If you don’t like what I have written, then help change the academic workplace and classroom environments. And if you believe my complaints are unique to me, then read the far more passionate, outright angry, blogs, essays, and books by other autistic adults.
Everyone “pretends” during job interviews.
Okay, but that “masking” and “pretending” to be in awe of my colleagues requires more energy than I have. I’m not going to fake excitement during what is a difficult and demanding process. I’ve tried. It backfires. Take me as I am, doing my best to answer the legitimate questions about my teaching and research.
I still dream of teaching for another two decades. Yes, I want to research, publish papers, and teach students. But that’s increasingly unlikely after landing on the adjunct track.
Maybe other neurodiverse individuals can learn from my experiences. Thirty years of trying to be acceptable to potential supervisors and coworkers weren’t worth it. There was no reward and a lot of suffering.
Yes, I am writing publicly that academia wasn’t an inviting culture. It isn’t for many autistics, even as we are passionate about our interests and often excellent researchers. We’re simply not charming enough. Again, if you don’t like me writing about this reality, change the reality.
Job interviews expose autistics for what we are: uncomfortably different.
The “discomfort” interviewers feel is nothing compared to the discomfort autistics live with daily. Do like you expect us to do, and adapt a bit to our needs for a change.