Send questions about the office, money, careers and work-life balance to [email protected]. Include your name and location, or a request to remain anonymous. Letters may be edited.
A ‘Work Friend’ Faux Pas?
A few weeks ago, in the Jan. 26 edition of “Work Friend,” a reader wrote to inquire about what she should do regarding a colleague on the autism spectrum who interacts with a wide variety of other colleagues in a semipublic role and who behaves, as the reader put it, in ways that are “brusque” and “rude” to them. In addition, the reader wrote, the employee is dismissive of the idea that care with interpersonal skills requires his consideration. (There are other problems with this employee’s work, but for the purposes of this column, let’s focus on the interpersonal issues.)
In response, I told the Work Friend reader who wrote in that, although I am sympathetic to those on the spectrum, “this seems less of an issue of emotional intelligence or personality diversity than just plain obnoxiousness, obstinance and entitlement.”
“This guy is obviously a lost cause,” I continued.
“ As someone who has worked with people whose toxic behaviors have gone unremarked upon or overlooked by higher-ups,” I wrote, ”know that you have my sympathy, and, no doubt, that of many readers of this column.”
I was wrong about where readers’ sympathies would lie. That column received more negative responses from “Work Friend” readers than any I’ve written before. Many correspondents said they felt that I was dismissive and cruel about the challenges that come with being on the autism spectrum.
“Horrendously insensitive,” wrote one.
“The most ableist, offensive, uninformed and blatantly bigoted question and response I have ever seen in this column,” fumed another.
“While it is entirely possible that the colleague described in the letter is rude or unqualified for their role, your response was, at best, uninformed and, at worst, damaging to autistic individuals in the workplace,” wrote a third.
And another responded: “I’m sure you didn’t mean to, but you really kneed efforts at workplace accommodations for autistic people with that Work Friend column. As these are people who are about to have an exceptionally difficult time making a living, maybe you’d like to take a second crack at that one, only with an actual expert who has guidance on how to work with neurodiverse colleagues who have accommodations.
In reading over my response, I concede that I was overly harsh in places. (The phrasing of “lost cause” and “obnoxiousness, obstinance and entitlement” was especially provocative.) And although I’m still of the opinion that an individual who struggles to interact politely with others shouldn’t be in a position where he or she is undermining professional relationships — I bristle at the employee’s hostility to emotional intelligence training — I wonder whether I am being unfair, and so I’ve sought out a few other opinions.
Arianna Esposito, vice president of services and supports at the Autism Speaks advocacy organization didn’t seem surprised by the initial letter writer’s query to Work Friend, but she made me realize that what I didn’t take into account were the potential struggles of her co-worker, a videographer.
“We always start from a place of everyone wants to be able to show up to work where they feel seen, they feel heard and they can do their best work,” she told me. “And for some people, whether you’re neurodiverse or autistic, that’s incredibly challenging in a lot of environments.”
There’s a phrase called “double empathy” — it came up a few times in responses sent to me after the original column was published — which refers to the idea that as much as a “neurotypical” person may be struggling to understand the motivations or communications of someone who is autistic or neurodiverse in another way, that person is struggling within a universe made up of communication norms and rules that they may not understand. Both sides need to imagine what it feels like to be the other.
I also had a fascinating conversation with Barry Prizant, the author of the book, “Uniquely Human: A different way of seeing autism.” For one thing, he said, when we talk about someone being rude, we’re implying that the person who is being rude knows better, or has some understanding that they’re behaving in a way that is off-putting to others but goes ahead and does it anyway. It’s possible that the employee, by virtue of his neurodiversity, isn’t even aware that he’s alienating people in his orbit.
Which brings me to Mr. Prizant’s next point: People on the spectrum can be quite blunt and direct, not to mention perfectionist. The videographer’s use of phrases like “don’t move your head when you talk”— that is, not using what Mr. Prizant calls verbal “softeners” — could, understandably, be interpreted as rude. But what we might see as rudeness might be experienced by the neurodiverse colleague as an attention to detail because of his need to communicate clearly what he wants and needs.
Mr. Prizant says that there’s considerable debate over the issue of how much neurodiverse people should be responsible for adopting the rules of the neurotypical world and how much the neurotypical world should cut neurodiverse people a break.
Once the letter writer has tried to understand, and then gain the trust of her colleague, she might offer some recommendations about ways he can communicate that will make his (and her) job easier when dealing with video subjects. For example, she can explain that some of their subjects are feeling alienated by his directness and then say, “Here’s another way to phrase directions so that it’s not perceived as rude.”
“What you’re saying is, I’m going to help you learn the rules of the world so that you could be better at your job,” said Mr. Prizant. “And if it makes sense to his logical brain, then he’s much more likely to not only accept it, but to own it. Sometimes it is helpful to literally list some rules, as long as they’re presented in a way that says ‘I’m with you on this,’ as opposed to ‘Stop doing that.’”
Mr. Prizant also suggested it might be worth company managers’ time to look into hiring a job coach or neurodiversity consultant. “A general emotional intelligence class is not going to work. The employee might need a mentor, somebody who can develop at least some level of trust that the employee is willing to say, ‘Oh, if it makes me a better video editing professional, then yes, I’ll work on this with you.’”
A Confusing Name, and a Position of Authority
I have the complicated fortune of an unusual name. My first name is uncommon in this country and hard to spell, and my last name could be a first name. Think “Diarmaid Thomas.” When I was in grade school, I had an easy nickname, but I gave that up decades ago. Now I have been in academia at successively more visible roles. Every single day I get multiple emails from colleagues that either misspell my first name or switch the names around. So, “Dear Professor Dairmad,” etc. Some do it habitually, other times it might just be a typing error.
To some, I am sure this seems trivial, especially compared to other name troubles I know people have. But cumulatively it is wearying. I actually don’t mind when people mispronounce my name; that is easy to correct. And if someone uses a correct variant spelling, kudos to them. It’s the relentless misspelling that — especially when the names are transposed — sometimes makes me feel disrespected. I actually put off even responding to such emails — not out of spite, but because I feel the writer has not taken the time to know who I am.
As I have a position of some authority, I am hesitant ever to correct anyone. I don’t want to be seen as overbearing or picky. Is there anything I can do, or should I just accept this minor annoyance?
— Anonymous
I can only imagine how tiring and frustrating this must be.
Despite — or because — of this, you need to push through your discomfort and start correcting people. For one thing, I’m not convinced that you’ll be able to accept what you claim is simply a “minor annoyance.” (After all, the situation is distressing enough that you felt compelled to write to this column in the first place.) Two: Though you can’t control how others interpret what you have to say, you can approach such interventions with the sort of grace and integrity that cultivate a sense of understanding and respect between yourself and the people on the other side of your clarifications.
I mean, I get it: As you say, a lack of attention to the correct spelling of a person’s name suggests — though doesn’t confirm — a certain blitheness toward that person. That can’t feel good. But I’d urge you to not look at these mistakes as injuries to take personally but opportunities to practice self-advocacy. Many years ago, a professor of literature who I approached via email a little too casually was quick to clarify how she preferred to be addressed; as a result, I now I default to honorifics until and unless others respond that they’d rather be referred to in a more informal manner.
As for how you say something? Let’s take the “example” name you give in your query above: Diarmaid Thomas. (I had to look it up, but “Diarmaid” is an Irish name that means “free man.”) My suggestion is that you be both gentle and blunt in response to a correspondent who has misspelled your name: “Thank you for your note. And just to clarify, the spelling of my first name is D-i-a-r-m-a-i-d.”
You should also edit your email signature to include and elucidate the spelling of your first name. So, for example, the signature might read:
Professor Diarmaid Thomas (First name is spelled D-i-a-r-m-a-i-d)
This could be followed up by your title, the name of the institution you work for, and your contact information.
As for the problem of transposing, my suggestion is, again, to politely correct the correspondent early on. So for example, you might write, to someone I’m calling “Professor Johnson”:
Professor Johnson,
Thanks so much for your email. (In the future, please feel free to address me as “Professor Thomas.”)
This communicates both how you’d prefer to be addressed and reinforces that “Thomas” is your surname.
I know that this all this sounds somewhat complicated and onerous, but it is necessary. As for whether or not your efforts will be regarded as overbearing or picky–well, you can’t control how others interpret what you have to say. But I’m confident that those “offenders” will be grateful that you’ve informed them of the right way to address you and will be more careful in the future with others as well.
The post How to Talk to a Neurodiverse Colleague appeared first on New York Times.
