The lost years of a young software engineer
No one leaves university with the goal of contracting for the rest of their working life, and yet, that is exactly what happened
A story about discovering the workplace adjustments necessary for an autistic software engineer with a PDA profile to thrive.
The lost years
Apart from the first few years that I stuck it out in a graduate position, I’ve been self-employed for nearly 20 years now (nb. I knew within 30 minutes of starting as a graduate at Honeywell that it was a god almighty mistake).
At last count, I’ve worked for 50 different clients and attended something like 200 interviews over that time. I’m now pretty expert at job hunting and also experienced in the various dynamics and office politics that seem to afflict every company out there.
Many of the contracts lasted several years, long enough for an unblemished CV and disguising the fact that anything was wrong. But contract endings characterised by increasing frustration and conflict with my [then] boss, and the overly sympathetic ear of co-workers was an all too familiar occurrence.
Hopping from contract to contract allowed me to exit from increasingly difficult and entrenched relationship patterns that I couldn’t seem to avoid, nor prevent from happening.
None of this has anything to do with my engineering degree but the sheer breadth of experience has been hugely valuable in my consulting work and generally allowed me to raise my day rate every few years or so. I’ve been the scorn of more than a few jealous colleagues for that as well.
I write all this not to brag, but to show the only way I knew how to make a living and support myself as an undiagnosed autistic software engineer who didn’t fit into conventional employment.
Disappointment of being diagnosed autistic
The enthusiasm of an autism diagnosis in my early 40’s wore off and quickly turned to anger and resentment. Particularly at all those contract endings I was unable to avoid and often felt ashamed about. It wasn’t uncommon for me to try and ‘befriend’ managers for many years after the fact, in some kind of attempt to make good.
Even with my ASD diagnosis, for several years afterwards I still felt completely unaware of what changes or adaptations would have made a difference to my earlier experiences at work. I also felt on a knife’s edge within a conventional office environment, knowing what might repeat once more and feeling utterly powerless to stop it.
There is much good about my autism but sharing that here is not the purpose of this story. I write for all those software engineers who are sitting at their desks, desperately Googling for answers to something they don’t fully understand. Please believe me when I say that I understand exactly what that feels like.
Making the workplace PDA friendly
It wasn’t until I came across something called the ‘PDA profile’ within the ASD spectrum did things start to fall into place.
At the age of 44 and thanks to the PDA Society, I read for the first time a credible explanation of why I have had so much trouble taking instructions, working under supervision and collaborating in teams. Even though I really wanted to and sincerely tried. It was particularly enlightening reading their guide titled, Workplace adjustments for PDA.
We end here by sharing my own guide, How we work, which outlines the adjustments I make to the workplace and working style to accommodate my specific autistic and PDA needs.
My guide was developed painstakingly through trial and error over 20 years of self-employment, and in the spirit of collaboration, you are welcome to reuse or adapt any part of it if it helps you create a better working environment for yourself.
Reclaiming the lost years
Luckily, my worst fear of no longer being employable never eventuated when I decided to publish my guide, How we work, a few years ago. Rather, the clear structure and rigid boundaries seem to have (perversely) attracted amenable clients and furthered the commercial success of my company.
Knowing what I need allows me to collaborate in teams, enjoy the company of co-workers, socialise and ‘pitch in’ to all manner of management consulting engagements, but importantly, avoids the forced bitter endings and damage to self-esteem that were all too common in my earlier working life.
I’m happy to answer any questions you may have on this topic.
I’m Frank, an autistic software engineer and owner of Better Software UK, a software requirements consultancy.
