Interviews are an Ableist Filter
Being made redundant from my full-time marketing job in March 2024 felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me. I had finally found a job I loved, working full-time for an incredible charity under a manager who, living with health issues herself, completely understood my accessibility requirements as someone living with a rare neurological condition - Idiopathic Intracranial Hypertension (IIH) - and an acute anxiety disorder. I naively assumed other employers would offer the same level of understanding and support but since re-entering the job market, I’ve faced a stark reality: finding a job as a person living with a disability is an uphill battle through waterlogged mud.
I know the truth for everyone in the UK right now is that the job market is fiercely competitive, and securing an interview can feel like finding a needle in a haystack. When that precious interview invite lands in your inbox, the pressure to ace it feels monumental. You never know when the next opportunity might come. For me, this pressure is compounded by my disability. Living with IIH means I regularly have to deal with debilitating migraines, severe, never-ending dizziness, neck and back pain, tinnitus, and cognitive processing issues. Coupled with acute anxiety, this creates a perfect storm, which makes interviews not just a test of skills but a physical and emotional endurance test.
Since March, I’ve had panic attacks during interviews, thrown up from anxiety in anticipation of them, and endured many sleepless nights from stress.
I wish this was “just” a mental health issue that I could untangle in my weekly therapy sessions, but it’s more than that. My anxiety is only part of the picture. My IIH slows my ability to process questions quickly, making it incredibly difficult to respond in real-time during an interview. This cognitive lag often results in jumbled answers - not because I don’t have the knowledge or know the content, but because my brain simply cannot keep up with the pace of a traditional interview format.
Worse still, I’ve often found myself pressured to divulge more medical information than is necessary. Employers ask probing questions about my condition, sometimes stating they’re “just curious,” sometimes implying that they need to know “everything” before considering adjustments. But where is the line? At what point does this become a violation of my right to privacy? Under UK disability discrimination laws, employers are not legally allowed to ask for excessive medical details. Yet, in the heat of an interview, desperate to prove I’m capable, I sometimes find myself answering these questions, worried that refusing will make me seem difficult or uncooperative. Even when I’ve clearly explained my condition and requested accommodations, I’ve often been met with resistance. Employers hesitate to accommodate candidates who are living with a disability, questioning the validity of the need for alternative formats and nudge you to accept a conventional interview. It’s incredibly frustrating because I know I am capable. The problem isn’t my ability to do the job; the problem is that the interview process itself is inaccessible to me. It’s not designed for people with a disability and that, more than anything, is why I believe I am still jobless.
This frustration extends beyond just the interview process. For many people with accessibility requirements, the job market is an unforgiving place. Not only do we face the same economic pressures as everyone else, but we also contend with the added layer of prejudice from employers who don’t understand, or don’t want to understand, our needs. We are labelled lazy or incapable simply because the world of work isn’t built for us. As a result, we’re often pushed into lower-paying or part-time jobs that aren’t sustainable, both financially and physically.
I’ve had moments where I’ve felt an inconceivable amount of pressure to apply for these kinds of jobs. These positions would not pay me anywhere close to the amount of money I need to survive in today’s economy, and they would physically exhaust me, only serving to worsen my condition. While the job market challenges everyone, for those of us with different abilities, the added expectation to mirror the performance of neurotypical, non-disabled candidates only pushes us further to the wayside.
I’m learning, slowly but surely, to advocate for myself. I’ve started requesting written or pre-recorded interviews, formats that allow me the time and space to understand questions and respond without the pressure of time ticking away or the fear of having a panic attack. But I’m tired. I’m tired of fighting for basic accommodations that should be offered without question. I’m tired of being seen as 'less than' because I can’t perform well in an outdated, ableist interview format.
The job market, as it stands, does not want people like me. Not for the “good” jobs, anyway. People living with a disability can work somewhere else, for someone else, but not here. Not for this role. And that’s the real tragedy. Employers claim to value diversity and inclusion, but when push comes to shove, they often fall short, expecting candidates with a disability to conform to the same rigid standards as everyone else, despite our different needs.
I want to work. I am eager to work, so, I’ll keep applying, keep standing up for my right to be accommodated in interviews. I just hope that one day I’ll be able to find an employer who sees beyond my disability and values the skills, experience, and passion I bring to the table.
Written by Alice Ketley
Alice is a young professional living in Yorkshire, living with a life-long neurological condition (IIH) and an acute anxiety disorder. Using writing as a way to get to know herself better, Alice finds fulfilment in sharing her experiences with both of her conditions and explores themes of personal growth and navigating adulthood.
