Your ADHD Employee Isn’t the Problem – Why Workplace Culture Needs to Catch Up
Written by Ileana Weynberg, Guest Writer
Most of the time in the workplace, I felt I had to work a lot harder than everyone else because my brain didn’t function in the same way. I noticed it when I worked in insurance and sales. Sometimes things just didn’t click. I needed things explained more than once. I had to write instructions down.
I wanted to do a good job. But I didn’t quite feel right in the work environment. I didn’t feel like I fitted in. I would people-please and mask so much, trying to please everyone. It started in interviews and carried on in the workplace. I never really felt like I could progress either.
Looking back, I wish I’d had my AuDHD diagnosis sooner. AuDHD means I am both autistic and have ADHD. I wish I’d understood why certain things were harder for me and had the support I needed, especially when my mental health wasn’t good.
Now, as a coach working with late-diagnosed neurodivergent adults, I care deeply about how those experiences affect our confidence and self-trust. Because when you spend years feeling like you’re getting things wrong, it can become difficult to recognise what you are good at.
We are already trying
When an employer says an ADHD employee needs to “try harder”, I want them to understand something. We are often already trying incredibly hard. We need tools to help us do the job we are good at.
For me, that could mean having instructions written down, being able to ask someone to explain something again, or having less noise around me when I’m trying to concentrate. Remembering information and keeping track of tasks can be difficult for me. Being overstimulated makes things harder.
An employer might see that someone has finished a task without seeing how many times they checked the instructions, how anxious they felt about asking a question, or how exhausted they were afterwards. Getting the work done does not always mean the way we are working is sustainable.
Someone else with ADHD might need different support. You need to speak to the person to understand what helps them.
“Just prioritise” doesn’t explain the priority
“Just focus.” “Just write a list.” “Just get started.”
If only it were always that simple. Sometimes the thing someone is being told to do is exactly what they need help with.
If three managers have each given an employee an urgent task, telling them to “prioritise better” still leaves them working out whose urgency matters most.
“Finish the client report first. The presentation can wait until Thursday. Let me know by two if you need more time” gives them something clear to work with. There is a task, an order and a chance to raise a problem before the deadline.
That clarity also makes it easier to discuss performance fairly. Everyone understands what was agreed.
The words we use matter
The language side of NLP, or neuro-linguistic programming, is relevant to this conversation: what words are we choosing, and what assumptions are we making about someone?
“He’s lazy” is a judgement. It doesn’t explain what happened. “The report was submitted two days after the deadline” gives us something specific to discuss.
“She’s difficult” tells us very little. “She has asked for more notice before her schedule changes” gives us a starting point. From there, we can ask: “What got in the way?” “Which part was unclear?” “What would help you meet the next deadline?”
Changing the wording needs to lead to a useful conversation and practical support. A kinder sentence on its own won’t fix an unmanageable workload.
Neuroinclusive language also means listening to how someone describes themselves. Some people prefer “ADHD person”; others say “person with ADHD”. There isn’t one preference shared by everyone. Ask and respect their answer.
You don’t need to tell someone “everyone is a bit ADHD” to connect with them. “Thank you for explaining. What would be helpful for me to understand?” leaves room for their experience.
“You’re too sensitive”
If someone is upset by how they have been spoken to, how quickly do we decide they are “too sensitive”? Do we ask what upset them? Do we consider how the feedback was delivered? Or does their reaction become the problem, while what happened beforehand gets forgotten?
Some people with ADHD use the term rejection sensitive dysphoria, or RSD, to describe intense emotional pain around rejection or perceived rejection. RSD is not a formal diagnosis, and research is still developing.
This doesn’t mean employers should avoid giving feedback. People need to understand what is expected of them and when something needs to change. But there is a difference between explaining a mistake and making someone feel like they are a mistake.
“The instructions weren’t followed here. Let’s look at where things went wrong” gives someone something to work with. “You never listen” makes a judgement about the person.
You can be clear and respectful at the same time. Someone should not have to explain RSD for their feelings to be taken seriously.
Telling me to try harder didn’t give me a way to do the task. It made me feel small, unworthy and like I wasn’t good enough. I have spent enough of my life feeling that way.
Do they get an explanation or an eye roll?
An employee doesn’t understand something and asks another question. What happens next? Do they get an explanation or an eye roll?
Do they feel comfortable asking again, or do they go back to their desk and try to work it out alone because they don’t want to look stupid? They still need the information. Now they also have to worry about asking for it.
Workplaces can have inclusion statements and still make an employee feel awkward for needing instructions written down. They can run an awareness session and still respond with, “I’ve already told you that.”
I want workplaces to pay attention to those everyday moments. The sigh, the eye roll, the comment made in front of colleagues. They may seem small to the person doing them. To the person asking for help, they can be another reason to stay quiet next time.
Support starts with the person
Receiving a late diagnosis doesn’t mean you suddenly know every adjustment you need. You may still be working out what helps, what drains you and what you have been forcing yourself through for years.
Someone waiting for an assessment may also need support now. Acas advises employers to offer support whether or not a worker has a neurodivergence diagnosis, including considering reasonable adjustments.
Start with what the person is telling you. Depending on their needs and their role, you might discuss written instructions, clearer priorities, meeting agendas in advance, a quieter workspace or time without avoidable interruptions.
Agree what you will try. Check whether it helps. Make changes together. And please don’t assume every ADHD employee needs the same things. The question I would have wanted someone to ask me is: “What would help you do this?”
Then listen to my answer and work with me.
Inclusion needs to happen in the working day
I don’t want support to depend on an ADHD employee being exceptionally creative or having an impressive talent that makes their difficulties worth accommodating. Their needs still matter when they are doing ordinary work on an ordinary Tuesday.
If your workplace says people can ask for support, what happens when they do? Who makes sure an agreed change actually happens? Can an employee say something isn’t working without feeling they are being difficult? These are the things that give an inclusion statement meaning.
For the employee reading this who has spent years wondering why work seems to take so much out of them: struggling does not make you lazy, and asking for support does not erase your ability.
You are allowed to need clarity. You are allowed to ask for a way of working that helps you contribute sustainably.
Neuroinclusion isn’t about lowering expectations. It’s about removing unnecessary barriers.
That starts with listening, and it becomes meaningful when something changes.
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Ileana Weynberg, Guest Writer
Ileana Weynberg is an empowerment and mindset coach, speaker and founder of Force Of Mind, supporting late-diagnosed ADHD and autistic adults to rebuild self-trust and find their voice. Drawing on her own late AuDHD diagnosis and background in mental health advocacy, she helps people understand their needs and build lives that work with their brains. Her message is simple: you are not broken, and you deserve to be heard, understood and supported.
