The United States edition of The Guardian is looking for stories from people who feel they’ve struggled to find or secure work because of their disability, but if you want your story included, you’re going to have to write it quickly: The deadline to submit is this Thursday, February 23, at midnight.

Have you struggled to find or secure work because of your disability? Do you keep your disability hidden from your employer? Have you experienced bullying or harassment at work? If you have a disability at work, The Guardian wants to hear from you.

You can even submit your contributions anonymously using their online form, just make sure you submit it by Thursday at midnight. The Guardian plans to publish an edited selection on their Careers site this Friday, February 24, 2017, as part of its disability at work week, and they might share contributed stories across social media as well.

Employment and having a disability (I have Asperger’s syndrome) can be a tricky combination. It can be even more difficult to navigate when one doesn’t know they are on the autism spectrum. I navigated my first several jobs not knowing (I was diagnosed at age 20).

With that said here are five things I wish I knew about having a job then that I know now.

1. Chain of command.

At every job I had I didn’t understand that there was a chain of command. When I worked at the video game store I emailed corporate through the chain’s internal network. Well, I actually emailed the CEO fearlessly not knowing I was out of place. However, they listened and changed a policy! I was also told not to email them again.

2. Small talk.

When I worked at the bowling alley and then the video game store I didn’t understand why my coworkers would try and chit chat about things I deemed irrelevant. Actually, I took this as a sign of the utmost disrespect because I thought, “How dare they talk to me about such things because I’m at work to work.” This isn’t to say that a person should go to work to talk, but I didn’t understand that they were trying to be my friend by talking to me about non-work related topics.

3. It’s okay to ask for help.

I worked at a racing shop as the office manager and the owner would often give me a long list of things to do such as, “Go into the shop, find this item and that item, then put them in a box, and mail them to so and so at their alternate address.” I didn’t realize I have some auditory processing delays and that anything after the first directive became lost on me. But did I write this down? No, I didn’t and I would always have to go back and ask again, and again. This angered him, but I could’ve helped myself by asking for help before I went searching by asking him to write it down instead of trying to do it without assistance.

4. If possible, find a job that is in an area of interest.

This is critical, but can’t always be done. However, if it can be, motivation is going to be higher. My second job was at a video duplicator (remember VHS tapes?) that saw me load 85 VHS tapes into VCRs, wait an hour, take those tapes out, label them, box them, ship them, repeat eight times a day. I will say I loved the routine of it and I got highly efficient at it, but it wasn’t something that I had interest in. This isn’t to say every job is going to be enjoyable, but if one is looking for a career long term then if it’s in an area of high interest the chances of burnout will decrease. The video duplicator job lasted no more than four months.

5. Team effort.

My hobby job now is that I am the flagman for two national racing series. When I first landed these jobs I was quiet about my diagnosis because I didn’t want them to think less of me. It was kind of hard to hide and when I opened up I let them know my strengths and my weaknesses. It was the best thing I’ve done because as we grow the amount of awareness and understanding out there, people are going to be more accommodating and understanding. I’m no longer put into situations that I can’t do and am instead put into areas where my strengths show. I know not every place of employment is going to be that way, but as they become so I hope the strengths of us all will have the ability to shine much, much brighter.

Aaron Likens, author of Finding Kansas: Decoding the enigma of Asperger’s Syndrome, and the National Autism Ambassador for Easterseals, has spoken to over 80,000 people at over 900 presentations and has given to the world a revelation of how the Autism Spectrum Disorder mind works. His willingness to expose his inner most thoughts and feelings has unveiled the mystery the Asperger’s mind. Join him on his journey from hopelessness to hope.

This is part two of Ali’s interview story. You can catch part one here, where she walks us through her job search experience.

On the day of my job interview, I turned from nervous to excited. At least, while I was on the bus.

I had scheduled the ride well in advance. They usually drop off all the on-campus riders before the off-campus ones, but that day, even though the other passenger was staying on campus, the driver went out of his way to drop me off first. This was a job interview, and the driver agreed with me that the earlier I got there, the better.

When we arrived, the driver led me in the building, and that’s when the excitement turned to nervousness. Remember: I hadn’t told them ahead of time that I was blind, so I’d be walking in with my cane and they were going to have to interact with me face-to-face.

Or were they? What if they told me to leave? Would they really tell me that? Why might they? All these thoughts were circulating around my head when the driver approached someone at the desk and told them I was here for an interview. I took it from there — I can speak for myself.

The receptionist hesitated a moment. “You’re here for the job?” she asked, and I couldn’t tell if maybe it was just me over-analyzing it or if she actually sounded skeptical. Like, skeptical of my ability or something. I gave a confident smile and said yes. She told me to sit down. I politely asked her to lead me to a chair, and she acted flustered while giving me directions.

Once I was seated, she then gave me the name of the person who would be interviewing me. My heart sank. It was the same person I’d talked to on the phone, the one I didn’t want to talk to now. But I had to. I plastered on a smile and said, “Okay, thanks.”

When the interviewer explained the job, he said material had to be “sent over” to a department where data is collected. I am familiar with Microsoft Excel and spreadsheets, that sort of thing, but the guy said they don’t have the type of software I would need to do the job. He practically dismissed me right then and there.

I think I took this all well, though. I thanked him for his time, and I also made him aware that a lot of blind people do search for jobs. I told him it’s very possible that I’m not the only blind person he will see interviewing for this job. I recommended he call the Disability Resource Center here on campus. If nothing else, maybe they’ll have a software recommendation.

When I walked out of the office, though, I was very discouraged. I called the bus driver, and when I told him I was ready for a ride home, he said, “You’re done already?” The interview was supposed to last a half-hour. It had only been ten minutes. I could tell the driver knew from my voice it did not go well. “I’m on my way,” he said.

I called my boyfriend Joe from the bus, of course. This was one of those days where being blind is really difficult. It doesn’t normally bother me. Sometimes I just have minor mishaps throughout the day where I think, “This would be easier if I could see,” but this… this felt different. It sort of shook my confidence for a while.

When I told all this to Joe, he sympathized. He said he was sorry it didn’t go well, but he was proud of me for putting myself out there and getting the experience. He also took the time to remind me of a talk we had a while ago about the advantages of being blind.

It’s something I try to remember when I have these type of days.