What jobs best suit you as an autistic adult?

I used to work as a rep for a cosmetics company that was once well-known for door-to-door selling. It wasn't a job that I'd applied for, but was a job I had reluctantly agreed to do after a great deal of persuasion from a desperate area manager who had come knocking on my door. I didn't think I would enjoy it, but I ended up doing that job for the best part of 10 years.

The money I earnt was peanuts, not helped by the fact that I had to buy the brochures I delivered through customers' doors, along with the customer order forms and delivery bags. However, I enjoyed it because I was working on the housing estate where I lived, established a good rapport with the majority of my customers (which helped to boost my confidence), and was able to work to a timetable that suited me because I was more-or-less my own boss. If I was unwell, there was no having to worry about phoning in sick.

I was a young single mum, and it was a job I could do without the need for childcare. My son was a 1-yr-old when I took on the job. When I was out doing my rounds, he would be with me strapped into his pushchair. He would have been around 10 or 11 when I gave up that job. Some of the customers had children who attended the same primary school as my son, and a couple of them were in the same class.

Some years later, I tried my hand at selling handmade greeting cards online, but it was short-lived. I felt like I needed to be a production factory churning out cards, which took away the therapeutic benefits of crafting. 

When I was much, much younger (a child), I thought I wanted to be a nursery teacher, until I realised it would mean having to go to college and university. During my mid-to-late teens, I thought I'd like to be a radio presenter. Just before I fell pregnant with my son, I had notions of joining the military police in the RAF.

I used to work as a rep for a cosmetics company that was once well-known for door-to-door selling. It wasn't a job that I'd applied for, but was a job I had reluctantly agreed to do after a great deal of persuasion from a desperate area manager who had come knocking on my door. I didn't think I would enjoy it, but I ended up doing that job for the best part of 10 years.

The money I earnt was peanuts, not helped by the fact that I had to buy the brochures I delivered through customers' doors, along with the customer order forms and delivery bags. However, I enjoyed it because I was working on the housing estate where I lived, established a good rapport with the majority of my customers (which helped to boost my confidence), and was able to work to a timetable that suited me because I was more-or-less my own boss. If I was unwell, there was no having to worry about phoning in sick.

I was a young single mum, and it was a job I could do without the need for childcare. My son was a 1-yr-old when I took on the job. When I was out doing my rounds, he would be with me strapped into his pushchair. He would have been around 10 or 11 when I gave up that job. Some of the customers had children who attended the same primary school as my son, and a couple of them were in the same class.

Some years later, I tried my hand at selling handmade greeting cards online, but it was short-lived. I felt like I needed to be a production factory churning out cards, which took away the therapeutic benefits of crafting. 

When I was much, much younger (a child), I thought I wanted to be a nursery teacher, until I realised it would mean having to go to college and university. During my mid-to-late teens, I thought I'd like to be a radio presenter. Just before I fell pregnant with my son, I had notions of joining the military police in the RAF.