In the first part of this series, we explored how ideas of ‘professionalism’ can sometimes be shaped by unwritten workplace rules rather than capability, performance or outcomes.
But what does that actually feel like for the person trying to navigate those expectations?
In this personal reflection, Jess, an Autistic professional, shares her experience of working in a corporate environment where the expectations of professionalism were often unclear, inconsistent and only explained after she had unknowingly broken them. Her story highlights the very real impact that a workplace’s hidden curriculum can have on Autistic employees, even when they are performing strongly in their role.
When professionalism is never clearly defined
In my late 20’s, I worked my first job in corporate graphic design. While I would always get praised for my work ethic and found the work itself rewarding, I struggled to understand why I was getting pulled into meetings about my ‘professionalism’ – seemingly unrelated to my capability and performance in the role. What was deemed professional was always undefined, everchanging, and usually only conveyed to me after getting something wrong. By the end of work every day, I found myself dysregulated, confused, and completely crestfallen. Most of my energy was being siphoned into masking my authentic self and trying to actively perform ‘professionalism’.
Learning the hidden rules
Over the course of my time there, I discovered hidden social rules about how I was meant to ‘behave’ in the workplace.
The way I sat in my chair was wrong – one leg up was deemed unsafe and unsightly. I was told that corduroy was an unprofessional material to wear in the workplace. When I asked what professional clothing material was, I was told off for ‘talking back’ (confusingly, I noticed a co-worker wearing corduroy a week later). Asking clarifying questions about a task meant that I hadn’t listened properly, and that I shouldn’t talk back to people in managerial roles; I no longer knew what to do when I didn’t understand something. I spent a lot of energy internally weighing up what to say, if I should say it, and what the reaction might be if I did. The reaction would always be unpredictable and varied from person to person, mood to mood.
When I finished a work task, I was chastised both for taking initiative on a new task, and for confirming with a superior what needed to be done before starting. In a performance review, I was told that I wasn’t being social enough during my breaktime, and that I should take off my headphones to make chitchat with colleagues. Similarly, the goal given to me on my performance plan was to come in the front door and say ‘hi, how are you’ to all my colleagues in the morning instead of coming in the back door and getting ready to jump straight into work. My Autistic way of contributing to the team socially by making all the company memes, or checking in on colleagues one-on-one about their interests, was entirely overlooked.
In impromptu morning meetings, I never got the timing right on when to wheel back to my desk and start working; “I’m not done talking to you Jess” filled me with shame. My ability to email clients was taken away after telling a client that an important document was sitting with my boss. I was expected to just know not to convey honest timings on when a project would be finished and asked to be more ‘diplomatic’ when I got my email privileges back. I had no idea how to action this.
The cost of getting it wrong
Working there felt like tiptoeing through an active mine field. I never knew when I would get things wrong, and there were always social and professional ramifications of exploding one of these hidden mines – myself and fellow Autistic colleagues were looked over for promotions, often talked down to, and struggled to be taken seriously in the workplace. Despite exceeding KPI’s and handling most of the large design projects, my nights were spent recovering from workplace interactions that had little to do with capability, performance and outcomes. After work I’d collapse and unmask, losing my ability to form words and attend to personal tasks like cooking dinner. I began to save all my energy for the workplace.
When workplaces lose good people
These unpredictable hidden rules don’t just hurt Autistic people; my design company lost all 5 of its capable, talented Autistic employees one by one. Like me, these staff felt misunderstood, misrepresented, and like they couldn’t be themselves in the workplace.
I eventually left my position burnt out as well – not from the volume or complexity of work, but from the amount of energy I expended on these undefined expectations. The impact once I left was immediate. I could retain my energy at the end of the day, and I eventually found a role where my ways of thinking and being were seen as not only valid ways of contributing to a team, but benefits.
What would have made my experience better?
Looking back, I didn’t need every expectation or rule to be changed, and I’m not arguing to oust professionalism entirely! Professionalism is important when it supports people to work well and have positive experiences, rather than being used as a measure of whether someone is social enough, communicates in the “right” way, or fits a particular idea of what a professional person should look like.
What I needed were expectations that were clear, consistent and open to discussion, so that my energy could go into doing my job well instead of trying to work out the rules.
Conclusion
Experiences like this are a reminder that creating an inclusive workplace is not about removing every expectation of professional behaviour.
It is about being clearer about why an expectation exists, whether it genuinely supports effective work, and whether people have been given a fair opportunity to understand and meet it.
For managers and organisations, that might mean making expectations explicit rather than relying on people to ‘just know’, being consistent in how they are applied, welcoming clarifying questions and recognising that professionalism does not have to look the same for everyone.
When employees can spend less energy interpreting hidden rules and more energy contributing their skills, ideas and expertise, everyone benefits.
