What If We’re Looking for the Wrong Signs?

One of the things I find myself saying regularly when I talk about neurodiversity in the workplace is that we spend far too much time judging what's visible, and not nearly enough time understanding what's happening underneath.

We assume that someone who is anxious will look anxious. We assume that someone who is struggling will appear to be struggling. We assume that someone who is stressed will show us obvious signs of stress. But what if they don't?

That question sits at the heart of a recent Employment Appeal Tribunal decision, Bryce v Coventry City Council [2026] EAT 153. The case involved an autistic job applicant who had disclosed his disabilities and requested adjustments during a recruitment process. The original tribunal dismissed his discrimination claims, but the Employment Appeal Tribunal later identified concerns with the way some of the evidence had been assessed and ordered part of the case to be reheard.

What caught my attention wasn't the legal argument. It was the thinking behind it.

According to reports of the judgment, one of the issues was whether the claimant had experienced stress during the interview process. The original tribunal concluded that he had not. Part of that conclusion was influenced by the fact that he appeared confident, spoke up for himself and did not outwardly present as somebody who seemed overwhelmed by the situation. The Appeal Tribunal took issue with that reasoning, finding that assumptions had been made about how stress should look. How many times does this happen in workplaces every day?

An employee says they're struggling but appears calm in meetings. A colleague asks for support but continues producing high-quality work. A candidate tells us they're anxious, yet they answer questions confidently. Too often we decide that what we can see is more reliable than what someone is telling us.

For many autistic people, that can be a major problem. Lots of autistic adults spend years learning how to navigate environments that weren't designed with them in mind. Some become highly skilled at masking. Some rehearse conversations before they happen. Some learn workplace behaviours through observation and repetition. Some become experts at appearing composed because they've had to be. The result is that somebody can look completely comfortable whilst putting enormous effort into holding everything together. If you've ever spoken to autistic professionals about burnout, this probably sounds familiar.

The danger comes when we mistake appearance for reality. We see confidence and assume somebody isn't anxious. We see competence and assume somebody doesn't need support. We see calm and assume somebody isn't under pressure. Sometimes we're right. But sometimes we're completely wrong.

What I think makes Bryce v Coventry City Council [2026] EAT 153 so interesting is that it challenges a belief that many of us don't even realise we're carrying around. We all have an internal picture of what stress looks like. We all have an internal picture of what someone looks like when they're struggling. The problem is that those pictures are often based on neurotypical expectations. When we use those expectations as our yardstick, neurodivergent people can easily be misunderstood.

The lesson I take from this case is a simple one. Be careful what conclusions you draw from what you can see. Someone can be thriving and look overwhelmed. Someone can be overwhelmed and look absolutely fine. And if we're serious about creating neuroinclusive workplaces, we need to become comfortable with the fact that not everybody's experience is visible. Sometimes the most inclusive thing we can do is stop assuming we already know what somebody's experience looks like.