Pottering about chatting to people doesn’t feel like proper “work” work, even if it takes some effort. My autistic brain is absolutely determined that sitting at my desk churning out written work is proper work or – at a pinch – attending meetings. Casual chats aren’t immediately productive so they can’t be work, can they? Well yes, they certainly can. And that makes them important and a sensible use of time.
To illustrate that, let’s consider: what am I for? [Humorous answers in the comments box please.] Broadly I’m supposed to lead a team to get things done, persuade other people to do things, communicate and advocate to get stuff going, win trust from senior people and (ideally) inspire those around me. Very few of those things are achieved by writing documents in Word. One of the most inspirational moments I ever had with a senior leader when I was quite junior myself was when they made me a coffee. It was a signal that they thought I was important enough to notice, and to take trouble over. Making me a cup of not-wildly-good instant probably took that leader three minutes tops, but they got several years of loyalty and hard work in return. I can try to do something similar by being available to talk and not giving the impression that I’m too important to have a chat.
The flip side of the informal chat promoting good work is that it can help flush out the problem no-one quite wants to tell you about. You’ve probably encountered the idea that GPs find out the most significant problems when a patient is halfway out of the door and says: “it’s probably nothing, but while I’m here doctor…” and out come possible symptoms of cancer. There’s a management equivalent – the thing that you really need to know but which only comes out at the end of a conversation about something else. “It’s probably nothing but I didn’t hear back from our partners so I’m not sure if they’re delivering the project” or “I wasn’t sure whether to mention it but …” and something that’s absolutely top priority comes out. If informal chats weren’t happening, I might never get to hear those things.
It’s difficult for me to do these informal chat-type things though because I overthink and agonise about whether I’m doing enough work or the right kind of work. I also feel intimidated about my autistic brain not really being set up for networking. But putting those two together I’ve come to a realisation that might seem obvious but it was news to me: talking to people is my job. Or at least a lot of it. My autistic brain feels that “work” is “stuff done” such as papers written, emails sent, presentations delivered etc. But actually a large part of work is building up relationships with people in order to have trust to draw on when needed, and in order to find out about things that might be connected to my work. Particularly for me as a leader, making myself approachable and (potentially) having ten consecutive conversations about ten coffees/holiday plans/whatever might be the most useful thing I do today.
The very act of having a conversation is effortful for me – to talk is to work. Talking and socialising which would come naturally to a neurotypical person are work to me because I feel that speaking “people” isn’t my first language. I have to concentrate on every word I say, I have to reason out what people mean and what I should say in response, and I have to have a store of things I can use in conversation to cover up my confusion. Which don’t always work well. But by and large I can do day to day work interactions fairly fluently now – particularly as I’m in a leadership position which means people may treat me with (unwarranted) respect or just be glad of my attention. I can potter around the office chatting to people in the lift, at the tea point, in the coffee shop (generally about coffee) and use that as a starting point to remind them of what my team does, that I’m an OK person (mostly) and that it may be useful to involve me in their work.
It’s a real struggle for my autistic brain to regard talking to people as work, partly because it doesn’t feel like a concrete thing done, and partly because it’s not what comes naturally to me. But I rationalise it to myself in the way I’ve explained here. There are some days – possibly a lot of days – when it really is my job just to talk to people, but most of all, to listen. Who knows what I might find out?
Autistic Civil Servant 