Britain still treats dyslexia as a school problem, not a workplace one

A few years ago, I was in a café with shared toilets as part of a larger complex. To use them, you needed a four-digit code. When I asked where they were, the staff gave me detailed directions and the code at the same time.

My brain had to hold both pieces of information, where to go and what number to remember, while my stress levels were rising. I went back to the counter four times: first to check left or right, then because I couldn’t find the toilets, then because I’d forgotten the code, and finally, repeating “7435” under my breath, I tripped and cut my knee.

This might sound like a small thing, but for me it’s a perfect example of what dyslexia can feel like in everyday life – juggling too much information all at once, often with time pressure, knowing that if you drop something it could be misunderstood as careless.

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