Hi - my name's Ash, and I'm the co-founder, Director, and lead consultant for The Productive Pessimist. (And, as you can probably tell from my 'Resting-What-Fresh-Hell-Is-This?-Face, the reason why the company is called The Productive Pessimist in the first place!)
Apologies for the face, by the way - I'm not that good-looking at the best of times, and I hate doing selfies! I also don't take very good selfies anyway, owing to significant visual impairment. (I'm registered blind, and losing what sight I have - left eye only, currently around 45% - a bit more rapidly than I'd like.)
However, the terrible selfie that starts this blog post sets us up nicely for a segue into the main topic; How the heck do these rules work, anyway?!
The 'rules' for succeeding at interviews, in work, when you launch a company, in the first three years of running a company, are basically the equivalent of riding a bike. Except the bike is missing three gears. And the chain's snapped. And the bike is on fire. And the brakes don't work, which you only find out as you rush headlong towards a sheer drop off a 100ft cliff, into literally boiling, piranha-packed water. Turn left, and you crash into an art installation sculpture of a forest, rendered in barbed wire and asbestos. Turn right, and you crash into a herd of sleeping rhinos - who probably won't stay asleep once you crash into them!
I'm old enough to remember the rules being fairly straightforward, and very clear and concise: You typed up a logically-ordered CV, which told the truth about your education and employment history. You started your introductions with "To Whom It May Concern". You turned up 10minutes early for your interview, with freshly washed and brushed hair, clean nails, polished shoes, and wearing a suit and tie with a well-ironed shirt (men), or smart trousers/smart skirt, and a sensible blouse (women.) You shook hands politely but firmly - just enough pressure to show you felt confident (even if you didn't!), not enough to break bones.
'I'm willing to learn, and very adaptable to new processes and environments', 'I am both a committed team player, and happy to work on my own initiative', and 'Excellent communication skills' were all entirely sound and reasonable things to have on your CV, especially if you'd been out of work for a while, or were new to the workplace (both of which were accepted as possibilities for peoples' life situations, rather than evidence of indolence, and a reason to post a Facebook status complaining about how an entire generation 'just don't WANT to WORK!!!')
I am old enough to have had a mother who was never condemned for including her marital status, age, and title, and open-minded enough to be exhausted by the number of companies and hiring managers going VERY public about how they "don't want to see the singular 'they' used on a CV!", and how it's "instant grounds for me to toss that sh*t without even reading it!" (I include my pronouns - he/him - purely because my first name can be gender neutral now; the spelling used to vary for women; it doesn't always do so now, and I'd rather not take an interviewer who was expecting a young woman entirely by surprise!) But, even though I don't use they/them pronouns, I wouldn't be so worked up about them that I'd risk missing out on someone with the exact skills I need, who's worked for a competitor before (so knows all their weaknesses!) who happens to not identify with either a male or female gender. I don't need to know what someone has in their pants to work with them, after all. They may come from a culture where gendered pronouns aren't commonly used, they may be wary of being judged by assumptions and stereotypes if they identified their gender... there are many reasons beyond "UGGGHHH! A non-binary person! I HATE all these 'genders' people are inventing! Why can't you just let me know what you've got between your legs, like a reasonable human being?!" for someone not to use binary pronouns.
I was taught that a cover letter was essentially an elaboration on pertinent parts of your CV - ie, if your CV stated that you'd spent 3yrs at Aybeecee Ltd, where you'd 'held project management and budget responsibilities', your cover letter would include a paragraph which read something like:
"During my time at Aybeecee Ltd, I was project lead on a £2.5million initiative to update and innovate in the health tech space. I was responsible for preventing cost overruns, as well as managing a team of high calibre experts from various disciplines, ensuring our objectives were clear, and that the project was delivered on time. As a result of my leadership and project management skills, Aybeecee Ltd was able to launch the HomeAdvantage self-management app for patients with degenerative conditions three weeks ahead of schedule, and £50,000 below budget. HomeAdvantage allows patients to take routine screening and condition management tests from the comfort of their own home, with clinician-led AI determining whether the results indicate a need for in-person follow up with a relevant clinician, or if everything is okay, and the individual can get on with their life. This makes long-term disabling conditions easier to manage for individuals, and also saves clinical time and resources. Working on HomeAdvantage allowed me to develop my financial management skills, improve my stakeholder liaison abilities, and appreciate the need to vary my communication style for diverse audiences."
Now? Cover letters are essentially considered a sales pitch - except you're the only 'product' you have, and you don't actually know what the employer is looking for in many cases - job adverts don't tell you what you'll be doing any more, they describe the 'type of person' a company is looking for. Which doesn't help if you're the human equivalent of a cheese grater, and the customer (employer) is shopping for luggage.
"If you're a good enough sales person, someone who's looking for luggage will buy a cheese grater!" - I've literally been told that, in exactly those words. My response, 15yrs later, still stands - "No, they won't. They might buy a briefcase instead of a rucksack, or a holdall rather than a suitcase, but they're not even going to notice a cheese grater, except maybe to be annoyed by the person trying to sell them something they don't want."
I know how to sell a 'good communicator', an 'experienced administrator' and 'familiarity with the UK financial services sector', among other things - but "bubbly, outgoing people person with a can-do attitude and a desire to have fun?!" Errr... I think the holdalls are over there... I do cheese graters. Sorry about that.
And that's the thing; it should be okay to look at a job advert, and say "I don't think that's me" - but, if you're currently unemployed in the UK, and reliant on State support (Universal Credit), that's very much not okay - everything can be, and must be, 'you', and, if you can't tie yourself in knots flexing and pivoting for every single job that's listed on Indeed, then you're just 'workshy', and 'need to improve your motivation'. (To any employers reading this - this is why you get 'cover letters' that simply read 'The Jobcentre said I had to apply' - it's not "someone who just wants to spend the rest of their life being propped up by the State!" - it's someone who knows they're not what you're asking for, but has had to offer their cheese-grater self to your luggage-seeking recruitment process anyway, in order to avoid ending up starving, homeless, and dead, in that order. Maybe respond to them with suggestions of opportunities that are a better match, instead of sniping about them on LinkedIn?)
The increasing focus on 'what type of person we want', rather than 'what skills do we need?', and even 'hire attitude, teach skills!' is a significant problem for neurodivergent individuals, and people with disabilities - because we're very aware that we're never the 'type of person' anyone wants.
'Hiring attitude' seems like it would be quite equitable at first glance. However, as Geoff Dyer observes in The Colour of Memory; "A good attitude is like a bad guard dog - invisible, and inaudible."
Neurodivergent peoples' attitudes are either very visible, or they are so deeply hidden under 'masking' - the often-necessary habit of presenting as close to neurotypical norms as possible - that the person appears to be being 'deceitful about something' to a close observer.
Disabled people have often developed a very thick skin in order to cope with accusations of "being scroungers", the constant fight for the bare minimum with the DWP, endless emotional labour explaining our conditions, and justifying our needs, to abled people, frequent medical gaslighting, and often not a small amount of actual abuse by parents and/or partners; all of which can come across as 'a bad attitude.'
I don't even know "what kind of person" I am: I've had people tell me I come across as intelligent, compassionate, and with a good sense of humour, and I've had colleagues in employed positions complain to management that I'm "intimidating", "aggressive", and that they "don't like me."
I know I'm reasonably good at writing, but that's not considered 'communication' any more - and I'm terrible at making videos, or doing the kind of 'hey, come and drop a like!' posts that work on social media. I can speak well in public, and have given presentations to groups ranging from five to five hundred delegates without any issue, and to very positive receptions - but I can't for the life of me initiate a casual conversation, and I will often end up needing to be 'prompted to elaborate a bit more' in interviews - not because I don't know what to say, but because there's so much I could say, and I'm really, really conscious of how many times I've seen people say they "hate listening to white men banging on and on about themselves and their 'projects' - like we even care!" I grew up with a mother who routinely told me that "no one is actually interested", and teachers who were at great pains to tell me that "What you think is relevant and interesting is actually very annoying, and very boring, to other people." (Dear Society: Could we please get a 'cheat sheet' for this? Like, how much do you actually want to hear from me? Just start the interview/conversation with a slip of paper that reads, for example "One thing about you, two things about your project/s, a maximum of two questions, then stfu"? That would be really helpful!)
I can work in teams, but there are a lot of provisos - small teams, typically over-35s, gender mix, rather than predominantly male or predominantly female, experienced professionals - and, honestly? I'm far more productive when I work alone, because I'm a lot less anxious and self-conscious; but everyone is demanding 'team players' these days, and expecting those 'team players' to attend 'team socials'. (My idea of 'socialising' is playing Cards Against Humanity with between two and five friends, or having in-depth conversations about current affairs. I'm uncomfortable eating in a group setting, I hate zip-wires, I don't have enough sight left for assault courses, or the kinds of lighting that escape rooms typically feature, and I'm terrible at bowling - although I do enjoy it.)
I don't really know how to describe my risk profile - a psychology test once saw me score as "risk averse Type A personality", which shouldn't even exist... I'm risk averse personally, but not entirely so on a professional level (I've started a consultancy business with nothing, after all - that's not exactly 'risk averse' behaviour...)
Then there's the practical reality of actually dealing with my disability. I'm blind, I increasingly rely on a guide cane to navigate, and, even if I walk into the interview without it, the fact that I'll trip over any slight slope, completely miss steps, and sometimes even walk into the furniture, as well as being unable, even with my glasses, to see slide deck presentations, or read written information if it's presented in 'normal' font sizing, pretty quickly clues people in to there being 'something a bit off' about me. My disability is very visible, whether I'm comfortable with that or not.
I was raised, and came into my working life, being told that you do not mention disability - you're not 'disabled', you 'adapt well to challenging situations', you've 'overcome significant personal adversity, and gained new insights, skills, and strengths in the process'.
I was taught that employers don't want to hear anything that suggests you're not the perfect person for the position you're applying for - your disability is a personal issue, and you need to learn to leave personal issues at home when you come to work. (My first B2B employer, who sacked me when I was diagnosed with schizophrenia 18yrs ago, actually used those exact words... and then cited the diagnosis as 'gross misconduct'... fun times...)
This means I really struggle with The Productive Pessimist - what makes the business unique is the level of disability experience, and exceptionally negative consequences of that disability (including unemployment, poverty, homelessness, unfair dismissals, and refusals of progression within employment) that I, and my co-founder, Morgana, have between us - the very things I've been told it's 'unprofessional' to talk about! My disabilities aren't 'quirky and interesting' - they're scary, they're bl--dy inconvenient, and I'd honestly give anything to live without them. I don't 'just have a different way of seeing the world' - I don't see a great deal of the parts of it that are necessary for work, and I often misinterpret things which are essential for smooth communication.
I grew up being literally yelled at, and sometimes hit/ducking things that were thrown at me if I asked for help; the best scenario was being told people were "too tired" - and then those people never not being tired. So I learned not to ask for help.
I grew up having it hammered home that the very worst thing I could do was to let people know my family were struggling financially, and that it was the mark of a rude, lazy, selfish person to ask for money - so I have no idea how to raise investment, or negotiate salaries in paid employment.
And, finally, but certainly not least, we have the fact that both myself and Morgana are trans. I'm a trans man, who completed transition 16yrs ago, Morgana is a trans woman who is currently pursuing a naturopathic transition, owing to barriers around getting to London as a disabled, neurodivergent person who doesn't drive, and doesn't have friends who are available for "whenever the clinic announces it wishes to see you." (I fortunately hadn't lost as much of my sight when I transitioned, but the experience still involved walking 5miles at 4.30am to get a bus into the nearest city, to get the coach to London, to get lost coming out of the underground station, and be informed, when I called ahead to say I was on my way - and ask directions - that, if I wasn't there in 10minutes, my appointment would be cancelled - I ran flat out, and made it in 9.5minutes... I wouldn't be able to manage the 'get to London whenever we click our fingers' process now...) Neither I nor Morgana are the 'cool Queers' kind of trans, and I routinely have to disclose that I'm trans to avoid being verbally abused in Queer spaces. I don't really connect with "the trans community", and I don't see myself as "a trans man" - I'm just a bloke who happens to have had to take a bit of a scenic route to manhood.
Trigger warnings for transphobia, physical v*ol*nce, and s*x*al as***lt.
Apologies for the face, by the way - I'm not that good-looking at the best of times, and I hate doing selfies! I also don't take very good selfies anyway, owing to significant visual impairment. (I'm registered blind, and losing what sight I have - left eye only, currently around 45% - a bit more rapidly than I'd like.)
However, the terrible selfie that starts this blog post sets us up nicely for a segue into the main topic; How the heck do these rules work, anyway?!
The 'rules' for succeeding at interviews, in work, when you launch a company, in the first three years of running a company, are basically the equivalent of riding a bike. Except the bike is missing three gears. And the chain's snapped. And the bike is on fire. And the brakes don't work, which you only find out as you rush headlong towards a sheer drop off a 100ft cliff, into literally boiling, piranha-packed water. Turn left, and you crash into an art installation sculpture of a forest, rendered in barbed wire and asbestos. Turn right, and you crash into a herd of sleeping rhinos - who probably won't stay asleep once you crash into them!
I'm old enough to remember the rules being fairly straightforward, and very clear and concise: You typed up a logically-ordered CV, which told the truth about your education and employment history. You started your introductions with "To Whom It May Concern". You turned up 10minutes early for your interview, with freshly washed and brushed hair, clean nails, polished shoes, and wearing a suit and tie with a well-ironed shirt (men), or smart trousers/smart skirt, and a sensible blouse (women.) You shook hands politely but firmly - just enough pressure to show you felt confident (even if you didn't!), not enough to break bones.
'I'm willing to learn, and very adaptable to new processes and environments', 'I am both a committed team player, and happy to work on my own initiative', and 'Excellent communication skills' were all entirely sound and reasonable things to have on your CV, especially if you'd been out of work for a while, or were new to the workplace (both of which were accepted as possibilities for peoples' life situations, rather than evidence of indolence, and a reason to post a Facebook status complaining about how an entire generation 'just don't WANT to WORK!!!')
I am old enough to have had a mother who was never condemned for including her marital status, age, and title, and open-minded enough to be exhausted by the number of companies and hiring managers going VERY public about how they "don't want to see the singular 'they' used on a CV!", and how it's "instant grounds for me to toss that sh*t without even reading it!" (I include my pronouns - he/him - purely because my first name can be gender neutral now; the spelling used to vary for women; it doesn't always do so now, and I'd rather not take an interviewer who was expecting a young woman entirely by surprise!) But, even though I don't use they/them pronouns, I wouldn't be so worked up about them that I'd risk missing out on someone with the exact skills I need, who's worked for a competitor before (so knows all their weaknesses!) who happens to not identify with either a male or female gender. I don't need to know what someone has in their pants to work with them, after all. They may come from a culture where gendered pronouns aren't commonly used, they may be wary of being judged by assumptions and stereotypes if they identified their gender... there are many reasons beyond "UGGGHHH! A non-binary person! I HATE all these 'genders' people are inventing! Why can't you just let me know what you've got between your legs, like a reasonable human being?!" for someone not to use binary pronouns.
I was taught that a cover letter was essentially an elaboration on pertinent parts of your CV - ie, if your CV stated that you'd spent 3yrs at Aybeecee Ltd, where you'd 'held project management and budget responsibilities', your cover letter would include a paragraph which read something like:
"During my time at Aybeecee Ltd, I was project lead on a £2.5million initiative to update and innovate in the health tech space. I was responsible for preventing cost overruns, as well as managing a team of high calibre experts from various disciplines, ensuring our objectives were clear, and that the project was delivered on time. As a result of my leadership and project management skills, Aybeecee Ltd was able to launch the HomeAdvantage self-management app for patients with degenerative conditions three weeks ahead of schedule, and £50,000 below budget. HomeAdvantage allows patients to take routine screening and condition management tests from the comfort of their own home, with clinician-led AI determining whether the results indicate a need for in-person follow up with a relevant clinician, or if everything is okay, and the individual can get on with their life. This makes long-term disabling conditions easier to manage for individuals, and also saves clinical time and resources. Working on HomeAdvantage allowed me to develop my financial management skills, improve my stakeholder liaison abilities, and appreciate the need to vary my communication style for diverse audiences."
Now? Cover letters are essentially considered a sales pitch - except you're the only 'product' you have, and you don't actually know what the employer is looking for in many cases - job adverts don't tell you what you'll be doing any more, they describe the 'type of person' a company is looking for. Which doesn't help if you're the human equivalent of a cheese grater, and the customer (employer) is shopping for luggage.
"If you're a good enough sales person, someone who's looking for luggage will buy a cheese grater!" - I've literally been told that, in exactly those words. My response, 15yrs later, still stands - "No, they won't. They might buy a briefcase instead of a rucksack, or a holdall rather than a suitcase, but they're not even going to notice a cheese grater, except maybe to be annoyed by the person trying to sell them something they don't want."
I know how to sell a 'good communicator', an 'experienced administrator' and 'familiarity with the UK financial services sector', among other things - but "bubbly, outgoing people person with a can-do attitude and a desire to have fun?!" Errr... I think the holdalls are over there... I do cheese graters. Sorry about that.
And that's the thing; it should be okay to look at a job advert, and say "I don't think that's me" - but, if you're currently unemployed in the UK, and reliant on State support (Universal Credit), that's very much not okay - everything can be, and must be, 'you', and, if you can't tie yourself in knots flexing and pivoting for every single job that's listed on Indeed, then you're just 'workshy', and 'need to improve your motivation'. (To any employers reading this - this is why you get 'cover letters' that simply read 'The Jobcentre said I had to apply' - it's not "someone who just wants to spend the rest of their life being propped up by the State!" - it's someone who knows they're not what you're asking for, but has had to offer their cheese-grater self to your luggage-seeking recruitment process anyway, in order to avoid ending up starving, homeless, and dead, in that order. Maybe respond to them with suggestions of opportunities that are a better match, instead of sniping about them on LinkedIn?)
The increasing focus on 'what type of person we want', rather than 'what skills do we need?', and even 'hire attitude, teach skills!' is a significant problem for neurodivergent individuals, and people with disabilities - because we're very aware that we're never the 'type of person' anyone wants.
'Hiring attitude' seems like it would be quite equitable at first glance. However, as Geoff Dyer observes in The Colour of Memory; "A good attitude is like a bad guard dog - invisible, and inaudible."
Neurodivergent peoples' attitudes are either very visible, or they are so deeply hidden under 'masking' - the often-necessary habit of presenting as close to neurotypical norms as possible - that the person appears to be being 'deceitful about something' to a close observer.
Disabled people have often developed a very thick skin in order to cope with accusations of "being scroungers", the constant fight for the bare minimum with the DWP, endless emotional labour explaining our conditions, and justifying our needs, to abled people, frequent medical gaslighting, and often not a small amount of actual abuse by parents and/or partners; all of which can come across as 'a bad attitude.'
I don't even know "what kind of person" I am: I've had people tell me I come across as intelligent, compassionate, and with a good sense of humour, and I've had colleagues in employed positions complain to management that I'm "intimidating", "aggressive", and that they "don't like me."
I know I'm reasonably good at writing, but that's not considered 'communication' any more - and I'm terrible at making videos, or doing the kind of 'hey, come and drop a like!' posts that work on social media. I can speak well in public, and have given presentations to groups ranging from five to five hundred delegates without any issue, and to very positive receptions - but I can't for the life of me initiate a casual conversation, and I will often end up needing to be 'prompted to elaborate a bit more' in interviews - not because I don't know what to say, but because there's so much I could say, and I'm really, really conscious of how many times I've seen people say they "hate listening to white men banging on and on about themselves and their 'projects' - like we even care!" I grew up with a mother who routinely told me that "no one is actually interested", and teachers who were at great pains to tell me that "What you think is relevant and interesting is actually very annoying, and very boring, to other people." (Dear Society: Could we please get a 'cheat sheet' for this? Like, how much do you actually want to hear from me? Just start the interview/conversation with a slip of paper that reads, for example "One thing about you, two things about your project/s, a maximum of two questions, then stfu"? That would be really helpful!)
I can work in teams, but there are a lot of provisos - small teams, typically over-35s, gender mix, rather than predominantly male or predominantly female, experienced professionals - and, honestly? I'm far more productive when I work alone, because I'm a lot less anxious and self-conscious; but everyone is demanding 'team players' these days, and expecting those 'team players' to attend 'team socials'. (My idea of 'socialising' is playing Cards Against Humanity with between two and five friends, or having in-depth conversations about current affairs. I'm uncomfortable eating in a group setting, I hate zip-wires, I don't have enough sight left for assault courses, or the kinds of lighting that escape rooms typically feature, and I'm terrible at bowling - although I do enjoy it.)
I don't really know how to describe my risk profile - a psychology test once saw me score as "risk averse Type A personality", which shouldn't even exist... I'm risk averse personally, but not entirely so on a professional level (I've started a consultancy business with nothing, after all - that's not exactly 'risk averse' behaviour...)
Then there's the practical reality of actually dealing with my disability. I'm blind, I increasingly rely on a guide cane to navigate, and, even if I walk into the interview without it, the fact that I'll trip over any slight slope, completely miss steps, and sometimes even walk into the furniture, as well as being unable, even with my glasses, to see slide deck presentations, or read written information if it's presented in 'normal' font sizing, pretty quickly clues people in to there being 'something a bit off' about me. My disability is very visible, whether I'm comfortable with that or not.
I was raised, and came into my working life, being told that you do not mention disability - you're not 'disabled', you 'adapt well to challenging situations', you've 'overcome significant personal adversity, and gained new insights, skills, and strengths in the process'.
I was taught that employers don't want to hear anything that suggests you're not the perfect person for the position you're applying for - your disability is a personal issue, and you need to learn to leave personal issues at home when you come to work. (My first B2B employer, who sacked me when I was diagnosed with schizophrenia 18yrs ago, actually used those exact words... and then cited the diagnosis as 'gross misconduct'... fun times...)
This means I really struggle with The Productive Pessimist - what makes the business unique is the level of disability experience, and exceptionally negative consequences of that disability (including unemployment, poverty, homelessness, unfair dismissals, and refusals of progression within employment) that I, and my co-founder, Morgana, have between us - the very things I've been told it's 'unprofessional' to talk about! My disabilities aren't 'quirky and interesting' - they're scary, they're bl--dy inconvenient, and I'd honestly give anything to live without them. I don't 'just have a different way of seeing the world' - I don't see a great deal of the parts of it that are necessary for work, and I often misinterpret things which are essential for smooth communication.
I grew up being literally yelled at, and sometimes hit/ducking things that were thrown at me if I asked for help; the best scenario was being told people were "too tired" - and then those people never not being tired. So I learned not to ask for help.
I grew up having it hammered home that the very worst thing I could do was to let people know my family were struggling financially, and that it was the mark of a rude, lazy, selfish person to ask for money - so I have no idea how to raise investment, or negotiate salaries in paid employment.
And, finally, but certainly not least, we have the fact that both myself and Morgana are trans. I'm a trans man, who completed transition 16yrs ago, Morgana is a trans woman who is currently pursuing a naturopathic transition, owing to barriers around getting to London as a disabled, neurodivergent person who doesn't drive, and doesn't have friends who are available for "whenever the clinic announces it wishes to see you." (I fortunately hadn't lost as much of my sight when I transitioned, but the experience still involved walking 5miles at 4.30am to get a bus into the nearest city, to get the coach to London, to get lost coming out of the underground station, and be informed, when I called ahead to say I was on my way - and ask directions - that, if I wasn't there in 10minutes, my appointment would be cancelled - I ran flat out, and made it in 9.5minutes... I wouldn't be able to manage the 'get to London whenever we click our fingers' process now...) Neither I nor Morgana are the 'cool Queers' kind of trans, and I routinely have to disclose that I'm trans to avoid being verbally abused in Queer spaces. I don't really connect with "the trans community", and I don't see myself as "a trans man" - I'm just a bloke who happens to have had to take a bit of a scenic route to manhood.
Trigger warnings for transphobia, physical v*ol*nce, and s*x*al as***lt.
For most of my transition, the fact that I was trans was something I didn't mention because it wasn't relevant, unless I was applying for work supporting other trans or LGBTQIA+ (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer/Questioning, Intersex, and Asexual/Aromantic) people, and didn't want managers wondering what the straight white cis lad was doing there.
Now, though? It's relevant to my work with The Productive Pessimist, it informs my professional experience in inclusion...but I'm very reluctant to mention it, because there's too many people who'll use it as an excuse to seriously go off on one, to slam doors in my face, and to bad-mouth me and my business as widely as they possibly can. And that's before we get to the 'jokes' about who has a penis and who doesn't, the fury over trans women daring to have professional sporting careers, and a certain author's inability to ever shut up about how much she can't stand trans people. And all of that is before we get to the fact that the UK government literally wants to make it illegal, or at the very least as awkward as possible, for trans people to have a public life at all. (I'm six feet tall, built like a prop forward, with a vocal range between baritone and tenor, I have size 10-11 feet, and visible facial hair... if it ever gets made law that people can only live as their 'sex as assigned at birth', a lot of people are going to have to come to terms with the various ways women can look VERY quickly! - the facial hair, height, build, feet, and voice were all in place BEFORE I started medical transition - I had visible facial hair, and a deep voice, at age 11. I went through high school being 5ft 11" with size 9 feet.... I was verbally abused, physically attacked, and suffered an attempted gang r*pe - which included girls instigating things - for the way I looked YEARS before I'd even heard the word 'transgender'... and all before I turned 16. At a time when I was answering the question "are you a boy or a girl?" with "I'm a girl" - because that's what people told me to say.)
In short, the 'rules' haven't just changed. It's not even that someone's moved the goalposts. Getting work, whether it's employment or paying clients, is now a different game entirely, there are five different goal posts on the pitch, and at least a dozen different versions of the rules floating around, all of them online. No one seems to have the original hard copy rules (and I probably wouldn't be able to read them, anyway!), and a lot of people are arguing about whether the game is even supposed to have rules.
"Just be yourself!" only works if you hold a considerable number of cards already - and many people don't.
That's why I started The Productive Pessimist - to be there for the people who don't have enough cards to have any hope of winning the game. Because I know how that feels - and I also have a better game we can play.
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