'The more it was rewarded, the more I had to mask': City investment manager on autism and late diagnosis

Many neurodivergent people understand that there is a particular type of exhaustion emerging from the performance around work, rather than from work itself. The pre-meeting small talk that’s rehearsed in advance. Lists of what to say, and what not to say. Careful observation of successful colleagues’ communication styles.

A senior professional in financial services, who asked to remain anonymous while going through the first stage of an autism assessment, has spent years doing exactly this. The London-based professional works for a top-tier investment management company. They are established, well-regarded and, by every external measure, successful. They are also, they are beginning to understand, neurodivergent.

Speaking to Neurodivergent Works, they explore what prompted the assessment, what patterns are coming into focus looking back, and what they wish HR professionals and line managers understood about what it is like to still be masking in the absence of a formal diagnosis.

The moment of recognition

The decision to seek an assessment came from two directions at once. Their children had both received diagnoses of autism and ADHD, and the questions that arose during those assessments resonated in ways that were hard to ignore. Feelings of being different and struggles with sudden change. A prolonged period of low-level burnout accompanied these feelings, bringing into focus something that had always been present but unnamed.

'It was becoming impossible to show up and mask every day in the way that office culture and etiquette required,' they reflect. 'I had assumed everyone felt the same. Realising that most people didn't — or at least didn't to this extent — was a wake-up call.'

A framework built from ambiguity

Looking back, the patterns are now legible in a way they hadn’t been before. Arriving at exactly the same time every day, preferably before colleagues, to work in quiet before the office filled. A preference for focused, detailed, independent work. The best days were the ones without meetings.

They explain that ambiguous professional situations, such as small talk, networking and client dinners, require a different kind of preparation. Over time, a system emerged. They would produce lists of what to say and what not to say, and carefully observe successful senior colleagues. They would adopt their unfamiliar communication styles as a template.

'In a way I was building a framework out of ambiguity,' they say. 'It was not only a sturdy prop but also removed an element of the ambiguity surrounding professional small talk. It gave me a prescribed code to follow.'

The system worked, up to a point. Promotions followed. Performance was recognised. But the cost was cumulative and, eventually, unmistakeable.

'I would become exhausted and regularly feel out of sync and disconnected from myself. I recall after one big promotion my superior advised me to deal with any thoughts of imposter syndrome by “faking it ‘til you make it.” I realised I was already faking and masking as a base level. Adding on another level of faking was going to take effort.'

The financial sector and the invisible reinforcement

The culture of financial services made masking harder to recognise for longer. The emphasis on long hours, hard work and productivity played to their areas of strength. Overcommitting to detailed, analytical work became a way of compensating for the areas where they felt less equipped. Areas like networking, visible brand-building and presentation.

'The more I followed my adopted behaviour framework to present confidence and composure, the more it was rewarded. The more it was rewarded, the more I had to mask. And the more I had to mask, the less I was able to recognise it.'

The only consistent signal was a feeling of complete separation from themselves. Mistakes, when they happened, felt catastrophic.

'If I slipped up, it felt like a disaster on a colossal scale. It was a tough reminder of the depth of the masking every day.'

There were moments of clarity. At times they set aside the framework and challenged senior management directly. For instance, the logic of a promotion culture that rewards networking over performance. They witnessed colleagues of questionable integrity advance through the organisation on the strength of their visibility, while equally capable but less networked peers did not.

'Putting the mask aside and speaking up for something that felt right was invigorating. But I knew it wasn't going to help me long-term in my career.'

Going through the process

The assessment process has been, in their words, cathartic. It has been a journey of reparatory self-discovery. Practically, it has not been straightforward. Finding a service that assessed adults rather than children required effort.

The first session produced a moment that encapsulated everything. The assessor noted how well they communicated, how well they maintained eye contact, how few signs of autism were visible in the room.

'It made me realise how well I had learned to mask.'

When they mentioned the process briefly to a senior ex-colleague, the response was swift and confident: you absolutely cannot have ASD. It was intended to be supportive. It was also entirely uninformed.

They have not mentioned it to anyone at work since.

What HR professionals need to understand

The final question put to this professional was what they would want HR professionals and line managers to know.

The first thing is simple: going through an assessment, even while continuing to perform, can make someone feel more fragile than they look. Outwardly, nothing may have changed. Internally, the process of re-examining a career, a set of coping strategies and a sense of self is significant. Some understanding of that, regardless of how the employee is presenting, would matter.

But they also want HR professionals to think more broadly, beyond the individual and toward the structural. Three specific areas stand out.

Promotion criteria that prioritise networking and visibility disadvantage neurodivergent employees who may be exceptional at their core work but find brand-building and social performance genuinely difficult. Broadening what counts as leadership potential is not only more inclusive, it reduces the risk of groupthink at senior levels by bringing genuinely different cognitive styles into leadership.

Meeting formats that reward those who speak early and loudly disadvantage those who process more slowly, need time to formulate questions, or prefer to contribute in writing after the fact. Treating post-meeting emails, chat contributions and follow-up questions as equally valid would cost nothing and could change a great deal.  

And manager training, while improving, still rarely reaches the practical and interpersonal dimensions that matter most day to day: the light, the noise, the social pressure, the question of how a neurodivergent employee builds a career profile in ways that feel authentic rather than performed.

'I would love to see HR managers and line managers broaden their promotion assessments,' they say. 'Not only is this more inclusive and promotes more cognitive diversity — the risk to companies of promoting a narrower band of senior people potentially risks groupthink.'

The ASD assessment is ongoing. The diagnosis is not yet confirmed. The masking, for now, continues. It is important to note that a formal diagnosis is not a requisite for employees to request reasonable adjustments. But the diagnosis process has shifted something for this professional. It allows a reframing that, for the first time, enables a degree of self-compassion. It is exhausting to spend years navigating a system that was never designed with this kind of mind in mind.

'I was very self-critical and didn't understand why many situations that others seemed to glide through felt a lot more treacherous and difficult for me. Now I allow myself a lot more compassion.'

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