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A Day on Planet Earth

Steven

"You pile of pillocks..."

A thread documenting your contact with the neurotypical world

*2 minutes into a pleasant conversation in my local store*

ME: "I'm autistic."

The shopkeeper literally takes a step back, as if Autism is contagious.

------------

SALESMAN: "Good morning! I'm from Encyclopedia Britannica."

ME: "Is that the one with the spaceship?"

SALESMAN: "No, that's Battlestar Galactica. Goodbye."

Okay, that last one didn't happen. Yet. Keep us updated with your daily adventures on the strange Planet of the Neuroconfusings.

(Thread title courtesy of Mariusz. Thank you.)

Parents

  • Few days ago I tried to adopt (I think it was Martin's) way of answering ''How are you?'':

    Colleague: Hi. How are you?

    Me: Hi. (Pause, mind equivalent of swallowing) Would you like the socially approved version, or the truth?

    Colleague: Truth.

    Me: We haven't got enough time for that.

    End of conversation.

Reply

  • Few days ago I tried to adopt (I think it was Martin's) way of answering ''How are you?'':

    Colleague: Hi. How are you?

    Me: Hi. (Pause, mind equivalent of swallowing) Would you like the socially approved version, or the truth?

    Colleague: Truth.

    Me: We haven't got enough time for that.

    End of conversation.

Children
  • in reply to Mariusz

    I have a similar thing with a friend of mine, except it goes more like:

    Friend: Hey, how's it going?

    Me: How much time do you have?

    I'm not going to lie to him, and I'm happy enough to give him a generalised answer, rather than a specific one. But I need him to know that's what he's getting. I'm very grateful for him, he is incredibly tolerant of me and makes me feel so very loved for just being me.

    On reflection, I'm not 100% sure that the above conversation has ever taken place in real life... But it definitely could 

  • in reply to Mariusz

    I find it amazing, the reactions I sometimes experience. A month or so ago, I had an appointment at my local council's Autism service's office. During the journey, I told the taxi driver the name of the office and that I'd never been there before. Her behaviour seemed to change instantly. Not only did she (kindly) insist on driving 'round and 'round the estate until she found where the office was, and never charged me for this, but she also insisted on walking me to the reception desk, presumably because I might otherwise get lost.

    Kind gestures all. But perhaps this incident shows that, for some people, autistic = disability.