Job Success for This Aspergian

My friend, John, a top executive in a major American firm, was asked months ago by a church acquaintance to grant an “information interview” to a young man with stellar academic credentials. Assuming the request was, in fact, an effort to encourage opportunity and connections for a recession-stalled job seeker, John agreed.

Within seconds of encountering young Jeb (we’ll call him), John spotted issues. “It was like talking to a waterhose – he hardly paused for breath,” reported John. While intelligent, Jeb seemed “too determined to prove his brilliance” in an off-putting manner.

John’s firm happened to be locked in a hiring freeze, “but even if we weren’t, I couldn’t in good conscience hire someone who seemed likely to unnerve colleagues, sapping their energy with significant social radar issues. We’ve learned the hard way how much a single personality can demoralize many others, reducing their quality of life and ultimately the corporation’s bottom line.”

As it happens, it was my son, Henry, who helped rescue job-hungry Jeb. Henry’s Aspergerish monologues, IQ exhibitions and social miscues are well known to John. But John also sees Henry’s endearing qualities and ability to far out-produce others when the work focuses on his passions.

Thanks to Henry, the executive was motivated to consider multiple angles on this job candidate. Jeb’s social klutziness actually stirred sympathy and intrigue in John, who suspected he was viewing a Henry clone. Secondly, Jeb claimed to thrive on the very research essential to John’s firm, and his tsunami focus on the subject demonstrated, in fact, unusual knowledge. Thirdly, Jeb could be paid as a short-term consultant, as allowed even with the hiring freeze. Fourthly, a professional on staff offered to serve as Jeb’s mentor. These factors helped dilute Jeb’s liabilities.

But the bottom line, reported my executive friend, was his mental image of Henry, in whom he sees enormous potential in Asperger packaging. John is deeply gratified when others give his young friend, Henry, opportunity to grow and produce.

And so, John offered Jeb a contract as an independent consultant for research purposes. In and out of the office, collaborating with staff, reporting his research, Jeb quickly proved his mettle. Yes, the staff was confronted with an unusual personality that took some “getting used to.” But they’ve warmed to him. They’ve recalibrated. They’ve opened their hearts. They like him.

And what a researcher. Ole Jeb is a workhouse with such a passion for subjects essential to his adoptive firm that he has definitely gained traction for the future. If the job-freeze thaws, he would be well positioned now for a formal position within the firm. If that’s not feasible, he’ll gain stellar, heart-felt, convincing recommendations for other opportunities.

All because an executive exposed to a young Aspergian, and loving him, had eyes to see the gold in this breed. As for Henry – he has proven quite an effective Aspergian advance man.

This is a story worth sharing with gatekeepers of jobs and opportunity. The acquaintance who requested an interview for the young adult Aspergian wedged the first little crack in the door, a small opportunity. The employer’s prior exposure to both Aspergian assets and difficulties offered a little more wind under the wings. Finally, a compassionate heart and some creative thinking transformed another potential Jeb rejection into a zone of growth and acceptance.

Yes, there was some risk for the employer. But he discovered that a modest price paid at one end can produce a truly priceless payoff at the other. And such investments can return dividends that enrich not only the bottom line, but interior “virtue banks” of those willing to make an effort.

Just ask John. He’s quite pleased with himself that by doing good he also has done well not only for his firm, but for his own heart. John feels personally enriched by payoffs he sees in multiple lives after giving a break to a young Aspergian.

Aspie Empathy Myth?

You know the claim that Asperger Syndrome (AS) personalities have no empathy? Well, I don’t buy it.

Years ago, a little boy harassed by neighbor kids was told by local buddies to “get lost.” Almost immediately, my son, Henry, spoke up to defend that kid’s right to stick around.

Henry won.

What no one knew at the time was that both the victim and his defender, long after, would be diagnosed as “Aspies.” Henry repeatedly rose to the defense not only of the much more marginalized kid, but of other targets of rejection, often at risk of rejection, himself. In some ways, he seems to have a more sensitive spirit than many “neurotypical” peers when it comes to defending the oppressed.

Yet I can see why, even with Henry, the “empathy challenged” label can be tempting. When a close relative fought against a deadly disease, the relative was deeply wounded that Henry, by then a teenager, never said a word. No “I’m so sorry for you.” No “how are you doing?” No “can I do something for you?” It’s easy to feel at times with Aspies that they could care less if you conk over on the spot. When frustrated at such external impressions, even I at times think he’d only be upset if I up and died during the Super Bowl, as that would be such an inconvenient intrusion.

What our sick relative didn’t know was that when Henry got wind of the illness, he blurted out suddenly, “Don’t tell me about it! I don’t want to know!” As the person on the planet who reads him best, I knew this was not “don’t bother me, I don’t care!” It was, “don’t freak me out! I’m anxious about it already, and don’t know what to do!”

As for caring generally, he also has shown bursts of sensitivity that reveal endearing capacity for attachment and responsiveness. Long before I noted peers doing so, he carefully downloaded favorite music of a couple of buddies to burn on discs he custom-designed for them. This required attentiveness to their listening habits, mental recall, a sense that such a gift would bring them joy, and the time and energy to produce the final product.

I’ve concluded that for AS personalities, the issue is much more a matter of brain than heart. Their minds just don’t “get” signs of others’ grief, fear, anxiety or even joy and affection. How can their hearts respond to what is not seen or understood?

As for our relationship, I realize a mom can be a real pain to any adultish child, perhaps especially when pushing for competencies sabotaged by Asperger neurology. That perception triggered my own perhaps odd reaction last Mother’s Day when Henry gave me a card (yea! connecting move!). “Thank you! How very nice!” I responded to gushy Hallmark language citing my fabulous traits! But then I noted that there are likely some days – those prodding-Mom moments – when he doesn’t think I’m so wonderful.

“Not many,” he said quietly. Not many days he doesn’t treasure his Mom, despite the difficult journey. This came as a very welcome surprise, given emotions locked so tightly within AS personalties. His response was, perhaps, assisted by the Aspie preference for authenticity and verbalized thoughts. Whatever, it was welcome gift to this Mom’s heart, and now helps me better intuit warmth and gratitude so rarely expressed.

For me, that Mother’s Day moment was deeply moving – confirmation that more than Henry shows, love of his family for him does penetrate his awareness.

That reality offers enormous potential as our journey continues for reinforcing strength and diluting inadequacies not just for Henry, but for all the interconnected personalities in this family.