Growing up, the skill that was emphasized most to me was working hard. Sleep deprivation—even suffering—was acceptable as long as you could say you had worked hard. My dad seemed to pride himself on how little sleep he needed to function. I, on the other hand, would sleep well into the late morning or even into the afternoon, only to be woken up by my dad saying, “It’s time to get up.” There was no real reason other than the belief that resting was a sign of laziness.
In high school, I was careful to maintain a GPA that would cover all my tuition, pass all eight of my AP exams, and obsessively ensure I graduated in the percentile I wanted. My senior year, I held leadership positions in two clubs, but rest was never acceptable—at least, that’s how it felt. My entire life, I’ve felt as if I was performing for approval, and it took decades to realize that the accolades would never actually be enough. Just like with eating disorders, where someone is always thinner, there’s always someone more successful just ahead.
What was never explained to me growing up was that who you know is often more important than what you know. I was told tales of my grandparents getting scholarships, attending night school—the mythology and ethos were clear at a young age: we work hard, even if it’s painful and costs us a lot.
The problem is that those in the corner office often hire someone they already know. Even if you’ve worked hard and gotten good grades, if they know and like someone internally, it doesn’t matter how hard an outsider works. Work ethic is important, but how I interact with people turned out to be even more important, and I wish my parents had taught me the value of networking.
Networking can be fun. I currently love going to industry events and hearing about what different people are doing and what’s happening in my field. It’s a welcome change from day-to-day monotony, and the people I’ve met at these events are fascinating. I spend too much time in my own head, so hearing what others are thinking and doing with their lives and energy is always interesting. Networking was always presented as something dry and negative when I was growing up, but I’ve found that’s not the case.
I’ve also observed something unique within the autism and broader disability community. Sometimes, there’s a sense of frustration that people who don’t appear to work as hard still get ahead. While ableism is certainly a major barrier in the workplace, I’ve noticed another dynamic as well: it’s easy to believe that if you have the intellectual skills for a job, mastering the so-called ‘soft skills’—like teamwork, communication, or reading social cues—shouldn’t be necessary. I used to feel this way myself, thinking technical ability alone should be enough. But the reality is that being a good coworker and building relationships matters in any environment, and investing in these skills is just as important as any other aspect of professional success.
At the same time, I recognize that social anxiety can be paralyzing, especially for those of us who are neurodivergent. There is no way to completely eradicate ableism from our interactions, but practicing communication and social skills in environments that feel safer and more comfortable is a good way to begin building confidence for the workplace. It’s also important—as children and teens grow—to learn the difference between what’s appropriate to discuss with family, friends, and colleagues. For many of us with ASD, navigating these social cues can be challenging, but distinguishing these boundaries early on makes a real difference in professional and personal relationships.
I can’t say I’m a huge social butterfly, but I try to attend two or three industry-related events a year and stay active in my faith communities, which also helps. It’s not always about creating artificial moments to ask for job opportunities. I try to go to events I genuinely enjoy and talk to people about what interests them while I’m there.
In closing, I do believe that teaching work ethic is valuable, and I am grateful for my ability to work hard and adapt—these traits have served me well. However, I wish I had learned earlier that the relationships you build and the way you interact with others are just as important as diligence and adaptability. Treating everyone with respect, kindness, and dignity shouldn’t just be implied; it’s a principle worth stating outright. One of the most important skills, I’ve come to realize, is listening. I never understood that it’s not only okay but actually rewarding to seek out people you genuinely enjoy listening to and find interesting.
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