Different Minds at Work
Neurodiversity, Communication, and the Case for More Curiosity in the Workplace
There was a time, not particularly long ago, when we had a much narrower vocabulary for describing people who operated differently from us. Someone was “difficult.” Someone was “scattered.” Someone was “too intense.” Someone was “awkward.” Someone was “rigid.” Someone was “too sensitive.” Someone was “bad with people.” Or perhaps someone was simply labeled “weird.”
We know better now.
Our understanding of neurodiversity has expanded enormously, including greater awareness of autism, ADHD, dyslexia, dyspraxia and other neurological differences. At the same time, many adults are only now coming to understand things about themselves that were never recognized when they were children. That growing awareness has implications far beyond schools, parenting or medicine. It has implications for the workplace - because workplaces are, ultimately, collections of human beings with very different brains trying to accomplish things together.
Perhaps one of the most important things we can learn is this — different does not automatically mean difficult. Different does not mean deficient. And different certainly does not mean wrong.
Neurodiversity Is Part of Human Diversity Neurodiversity recognizes that human brains do not all process information, attention, communication, sensory input, emotion, organization and problem-solving in exactly the same way. That sounds obvious when you say it out loud, right?
Yet many workplaces have historically been designed around a relatively narrow idea of what a “good employee” looks like: organized in a particular way, comfortable in meetings, socially fluent, responsive to certain forms of communication, productive within particular environments and able to shift between priorities in ways the organization considers normal.
But there isn't one universally correct way for a brain to work and there certainly isn't one kind of brain associated with success.
Consider just a few people who have spoken publicly about their own experiences….
Olympic champion Simone Biles has discussed having ADHD. Entrepreneur Richard Branson has spoken extensively about dyslexia and has described his own dyslexic thinking as a significant strength in business. Scientist, author and professor Temple Grandin has spent decades discussing her experience as an autistic person and advocating for different kinds of thinkers. Climate activist Greta Thunberg has spoken openly about autism and has described being different, in the right circumstances, as a “superpower.”
Their professions and experiences could hardly be more different. That is precisely the point. Neurodivergence doesn't tell you someone's intelligence, ambition, personality, capacity for leadership, creativity, empathy or potential - it tells you that brains can work differently.
About the Word “Superpower”
There is a temptation, especially when trying to correct decades of stigma, to swing completely in the opposite direction and declare neurodivergence a “superpower.” For some people, that language feels empowering. Some prominent neurodivergent people use it proudly themselves. For others, it doesn't reflect their experience at all - both perspectives deserve respect. A person may see ADHD as integral to their creativity and energy while also finding certain executive-function demands genuinely difficult. An autistic person may value the way they experience and understand the world while needing accommodations in particular environments. Someone with dyslexia may credit it with contributing to exceptional big-picture thinking while still finding certain reading or writing tasks more demanding. Another person may not describe their experience in any of those ways, we shouldn't decide for them.
The goal isn't to replace one stereotype - neurodivergence is a deficit - with another - neurodivergence is secretly a gift. The goal is to recognize the whole person.
There can be strengths. There can be challenges. There can be both. There can be neither in a particular situation. And every person's experience is individual.
You Probably Don't Know the Whole Story
This may be the most important workplace lesson of all. You usually don't know. You don't know whether the person across the conference table has ADHD. You don't know whether someone is autistic. You don't know whether a colleague is dyslexic. You don't know whether someone was diagnosed at seven, discovered something about themselves at 47, is exploring a diagnosis privately, or has no diagnosis whatsoever. Unless they choose to share that information with you, it isn't yours to know - people are entitled to medical and personal privacy. No one should have to disclose a diagnosis simply to earn patience, respect or a little generosity from the people around them. Nor should we begin diagnosing coworkers from across the office. Instead, we can become better observers of something we are entitled to notice:
How do the people around us work best?
The Same Situation Can Feel Completely Different to Two People: Imagine you send someone a long email containing six different requests.
They respond to two.
It is easy to think: They didn't bother reading my email! Maybe.
But there are many other possibilities. Perhaps information is easier for that person to process when requests are numbered. Perhaps they read quickly and genuinely missed several questions. Perhaps they were interrupted halfway through. Perhaps the email structure wasn't particularly clear.
You don't need to know why before trying something different: “I'm going to number these so they're easier for both of us to track.”
Problem potentially solved.
Or imagine someone responds very directly to an idea:“I don't think that will work.”
One person may experience that as refreshingly clear. Another may experience it as abrupt. Neither reaction necessarily tells us the speaker's intention. Instead of immediately assigning motive—she's dismissive; he doesn't respect me; she always shoots down my ideas—we can become curious about the difference between communication style and communication intent.
Someone may prefer written instructions while another person wants to talk something through. Someone may need time to process before answering while another person thinks best aloud. Someone may thrive with flexibility while another performs best with predictability. Someone may love brainstorming meetings while someone else contributes their best thinking after receiving an agenda in advance. Someone may be exceptionally direct. Someone else may communicate through significantly more context.
These differences can exist among neurodivergent people, neurotypical people and everyone in between - that is why the goal isn't to attach a diagnosis to behavior.
The goal is to get better at working with human beings.
Sometimes We Clash Because We're Different. Sometimes We Clash Because We're Similar.
This is one of the more fascinating pieces of workplace chemistry. Sometimes two people simply have opposite operating styles. One wants structure; the other wants flexibility. One communicates rapidly; the other processes deliberately. One loves details; the other wants the headline. One considers frequent check-ins collaborative; the other experiences constant interruptions as disruptive. Neither person needs to be the villain. But people can also clash because they're remarkably similar. Two highly direct communicators may unintentionally escalate one another. Two people with exceptionally high standards may continually challenge each other's work. Two people who both value ownership may struggle over where one person's responsibility ends and another's begins. Two people who are extremely passionate about getting something right may experience the other's intensity as opposition rather than recognizing it as commitment. And neurodivergent people aren't automatically going to understand one another better simply because they share a diagnosis—or even similar traits.
There is tremendous variation within neurodivergence. Two autistic colleagues can have dramatically different communication preferences. Two people with ADHD can have entirely different systems for organization, attention and productivity. One person's ideal working environment can be another person's nightmare. There is no single neurodivergent personality.
Be Careful With the Story You Tell Yourself
This is where interpersonal intelligence becomes incredibly important. Human beings are excellent storytellers, particularly when we don't have all the information.
Someone doesn't respond to our message, and our brain fills in the blank: They don't respect me!
Someone questions our work: They don't trust me!
Someone's tone feels different: They're angry.
Someone doesn't engage in much small talk: They don't like me!
Someone wants substantially more detail than we do: They're controlling.
Someone communicates more bluntly than we would: They're rude!
Occasionally those interpretations will be correct. But sometimes we're assigning intention to behavior when we don't actually know the intention. A better habit is to separate what happened from the story we created about why it happened.
What do I actually know? And then: What might I not know?
That tiny pause can prevent an enormous amount of unnecessary workplace conflict.
Curiosity Is Not the Same Thing as Excusing Behavior
An inclusive workplace still has standards. Deadlines matter. Respect matters. Reliability matters. Professionalism matters. Accountability matters. Understanding that people operate differently does not require colleagues or managers to tolerate harmful, discriminatory, abusive or chronically disrespectful behavior. Nor should a diagnosis ever become shorthand for explaining someone's conduct. Instead, greater understanding gives us more tools for solving problems. If information repeatedly gets lost in long emails, perhaps assignments should become shorter and more structured. If someone produces much better thinking when they have an agenda beforehand, sending the agenda early is an easy improvement.
If two colleagues continually misinterpret each other's tone, perhaps they need a conversation about communication preferences rather than another six months of resentment. If an employee struggles in a chaotic workspace but performs exceptionally well with uninterrupted focus time, perhaps the question isn't What's wrong with this employee?
Perhaps the better question is: What environment allows this person to do their best work? That's not lowering a standard. That's management.
This Matters Enormously for Executive Assistants
Executive Assistants sit at one of the most interesting intersections of human behavior in an organization. An EA may interact with an executive, board member, investor, colleague, candidate, client, vendor, spouse, physician, attorney, household employee and another assistant - all in the same day. Every one of those people communicates differently and an exceptional EA learns how to translate. You may know that your executive's three-word email doesn't mean they're angry. You may recognize that a particular board member needs the complete background before making a decision. You may learn that one stakeholder needs everything in writing while another needs a five-minute phone call. You may notice that one colleague wants five minutes of friendly conversation before getting to business while another is far more comfortable going directly to the agenda.
You don't need to know why.
You don't need their diagnosis, their childhood history or an explanation of how their brain works.
You need curiosity.
How does this person receive information best?
How do they communicate?
What helps them do excellent work?
Where do misunderstandings tend to happen between us?
What can I adjust without compromising the work itself?
That is not tiptoeing around people. That is interpersonal intelligence.
Your Communication Style Isn't the Default Setting
One of the hardest things to recognize is that our own way of operating feels normal because it is normal to us. If you're highly relational, extreme directness may feel cold. If you're highly direct, a relationship-first communicator may feel inefficient. If you process quickly, silence may feel uncomfortable. If you need processing time, an immediate answer may feel impossible. If you're spontaneous, structure can feel restrictive. If you thrive on structure, constant spontaneity can feel exhausting. If you love an open office and constant collaboration, you may not understand why someone puts on headphones and closes their door.
And vice versa.
We can accidentally take our own nervous system, personality and communication preferences and turn them into the measuring stick against which everyone else's professionalism is judged. That isn't particularly fair - or particularly effective.
Intent and Impact Can Both Matter
Giving people the benefit of the doubt doesn't mean impact disappears. Someone can mean well and still communicate in a way that negatively affects another person. The healthier conversation isn't: You're rude. Nor does it have to be: That's just how they are, so everyone else needs to deal with it.
There is a lot of territory between those two positions.
We can say: “I don't think that was your intention, but I want you to understand how it landed.”
We can ask: “I think we're interpreting each other's communication differently. How can we make this work better?”
We can acknowledge difference while still expecting mutual respect. That's what inclusion should look like.
Not forcing everyone to behave identically. Not eliminating accountability. But giving people a reasonable opportunity to understand one another.
Celebrate the Difference—Without Stereotyping It
There is something genuinely exciting about what different kinds of thinkers contribute to organizations.
We need people who see patterns.
We need people who challenge assumptions.
We need detail thinkers and big-picture thinkers.
We need innovators and operators.
We need people who can hyperfocus and people who can rapidly shift gears.
We need people who ask, “Why are we doing it this way?”
We need people who notice the thing everyone else walked past.
We need people whose minds don't automatically follow the same path as everyone else's.
Some of those people will be neurodivergent.
Some won't.
And even among people who share the same diagnosis, their strengths, challenges, personalities, communication styles and needs will be uniquely their own. That's the point. A truly inclusive workplace doesn't simply tolerate difference. It recognizes that difference is already there, and that organizations can become stronger when they stop requiring everyone to think alike.
What Might I Not Know?
There will always be difficult workplace relationships. Sometimes people genuinely behave badly. Sometimes expectations aren't met. Sometimes two people simply aren't a good professional fit. Neurodiversity doesn't erase those realities. But it should make us slower to assume. The colleague you experience as overly direct may believe they're being clear. The person who asks endless questions may be trying very hard to get something right. The person who needs everything documented may have built a system that allows them to perform exceptionally well. The person who doesn't communicate the way you do isn't necessarily communicating incorrectly. And the person who frustrates you may be sitting across the table thinking exactly the same thing about you.
So before deciding someone is difficult, careless, cold, rigid, scattered, unfriendly or impossible to work with, ask yourself one question:
What might I not know?
You may never know the answer. And that's okay because inclusion doesn't require access to someone's private information. It requires enough humility to recognize that your experience of another person isn't the entirety of who they are. It requires enough curiosity to try another approach. And it requires enough respect to allow different minds to show up at work as different minds. That isn't simply good neurodiversity practice.
It's good leadership.
And it's a much more human way to work.