As a Neurodivergent Person the Office Was Designed for Someone Who Is Not Me
The Longest Walk Is Into the Building
I want to describe something that happened at a previous job, not to assign blame but because it captures something precisely. My manager sent a message asking if I could swing by his office to debrief on a project. No further information. No agenda. No indication of whether this was routine or significant. I spent the next four hours unable to think about anything else. I reviewed every interaction from the previous two weeks. I ran through possible interpretations. I prepared for several different scenarios. By the time I walked into his office, I was depleted—and it was a two-minute conversation about scheduling. That is not a quirk or an overreaction. That is a describable pattern, connected to how my brain processes ambiguous social information, and it has a name. Understanding that changed things.
What Neurodivergence Actually Covers
The term neurodivergent encompasses a range of conditions—ADHD, autism spectrum conditions, dyslexia, dyspraxia, dyscalculia, and others—that share a common characteristic: the person's neurological profile differs from what the dominant culture has defined as standard. This is not a euphemism for deficiency. It is a description of a different configuration of cognitive strengths and challenges. The challenges are real. So are the strengths—pattern recognition, hyperfocus, lateral thinking, deep expertise, unusual attention to detail in specific domains. A neurotype that creates difficulty in one context often creates significant advantage in another. The problem is that most professional environments are optimized for one particular context.
What the Workplace Assumes
Standard office environments make a set of assumptions that are so embedded they've become invisible. They assume that open-plan spaces are neutral and that anyone who struggles in them is a focus problem rather than a sensory processing difference. They assume that real-time verbal communication in meetings is the natural medium for exchanging complex information. They assume that a consistent schedule with predictable transitions is easy for everyone. They assume that implicit social rules are universally legible. None of these assumptions are neutral. They reflect a particular neurological profile—one that a substantial portion of the workforce does not share.
What the Research Finds
A study from the Autism Research Centre at Cambridge University found that autistic employees in conventional workplace environments reported spending significantly more cognitive resources on social interpretation and rule navigation than on their actual job functions—a form of sustained effort that was invisible to colleagues and managers but measurably depleting. When accommodations were made that reduced this load, productivity and job satisfaction both increased. Research from the ADHD Institute examining workplace productivity found that employees with ADHD in structured, low-distraction environments with explicit expectations performed at levels comparable to neurotypical colleagues, while those in unstructured, high-stimulation environments showed significant performance gaps that were attributable to environmental mismatch rather than capability.
The Invisible Tax
What I have described as the depleting briefing-room walk is one instance of a broader phenomenon that neurodivergent workers navigate constantly: the invisible tax of operating in environments built for someone else. Every ambiguous communication that requires extended interpretation. Every social interaction that doesn't follow legible rules. Every transition between contexts that a typical colleague navigates easily. The tax is real even when it's invisible. It shows up as fatigue that doesn't resolve with sleep. As difficulty performing tasks that should be well within capability. As the sense of perpetual effort in environments where colleagues appear to coast.
The Remote Work Variable
Remote work did not solve everything, but it removed several layers of the invisible tax for many neurodivergent people. The commute, which involves sensory exposure and social navigation in compressed form. The open office, which provides constant competing stimulation. The ambient obligation to perform neurotypical social behavior for eight hours straight. What remained was the work itself, which many neurodivergent people can do very well when the scaffolding around it isn't consuming them.
What Would Actually Help
Clear written expectations instead of relying on implicit norms. Agendas before meetings rather than real-time agenda-setting. Flexibility in how and when work is done rather than requiring a specific mode. Communication channels that don't privilege real-time spoken exchange. These accommodations cost almost nothing and return real gains. The office was not designed with malice. It was designed without the full range of users in mind. Updating the design is not a charity project. It is a recognition that a significant portion of every workforce has been working harder than necessary to compensate for an environment that could, with relatively small changes, work for them too.