The ND Team That Saved My Agency Bacon Again and Again

Oct 7, 2025

How neurodivergent minds turned chaos into creative brilliance.

Once in my life—okay, many times—there was a moment when I was running a creative agency that was part think tank, part skunkworks lab, part reality TV show.

We employed artists who would not get to the office until 11am but could produce concept work that made Fortune 100 CEOs drool. A composer who found and recorded a wild gypsy jazz band, and his sound engineer partner recorded broken toys to bring a game to life. A graphic designer and game designer would disappear for days into a hole and come back with the most mind-blowing ideas you’ve ever seen. Engineers working to hyperconcentrate as a circus of creatives circled around them while problem-solving never things never done before, or at least not by us in the manner we imagined.

And still. somehow, it all worked.

In fact, it not only worked—it thrived (most of the time).

As a team, we were lightning.

The Team: A Wild Mix of ND Superpowers

Looking back, there was an entire crew of us sprinting around undiagnosed. ADHD, autism spectrum, OCD, anxiety—your poison of choice. We didn't have the labels, but we definitely had the tics.

There was this guy who'd get into the zone coding and go 10 hours without eating.

There was another who'd conceptualize an entire animated scene in their brain from beginning to end before ever putting a pen to paper.

There were those who hated meetings. Others who needed meetings to feel grounded.

One had to pace to think. Another had to remain absolutely still.

On its face? Insanity.

But when you looked deeper—at it—it was raw chemistry.

The Magic: Structured Chaos for a Reason

It wasn't about "managing" these individuals—it was about arranging them.

That was my de facto role (hindsight: 20/20). Like some kind of ND maestro, I'd dissect how each person worked. I tried to befriend everyone—which got harder as we got older. But I was always scanning for what got people. What got them in flow.

Then I'd build around that.

We didn't try to enforce sameness.

We celebrated the quirky.

We made room for play and noise, fast and slow, structure and improvisation.

I should’ve left more room for quiet—especially for the engineers. That was a blind spot. I thrived on noise and movement, walking the floor, talking, feeding off everyone’s energy. Never noticed that my buzz was sometimes wrecking theirs.

But when it came together?

Magic.

There were some outsiders who simply didn't get it. They'd ask us why we hired a full-time illustrator with a crazily specialized style when we hadn't even had a project to give them yet. Or why our illustrator was busy making weird concept art instead of cranking out client deliverables.

But we were not always working for today.

I was aggregating talent and waiting for lightning.

And when that ideal project came along—BOOM. Total alignment. Full throttle. No drag. Projects that would take six months for a "normal" team? Done in a couple months. With heart. With depth. With voice.

The Lesson: ND Diversity Isn't a Bug—It's the Feature.

It is easy to see ND traits by way of deficit.

Distraction. Inconsistency. Mood swings. Disorganization.

But when you design a place that caters to neurodivergent team dynamics—where people are allowed to be themselves, do their thing, and insert their own beat?

You achieve amazing things.

The same traits that feel like limitations in one space become launchpads in another.

That coder who forgets to eat? He fixed a giant blocker and helped us get launched in time for the Super Bowl.

The designer who needed three days locked away to focus? She gave us the visual language for an entire brand.

The strategist who was wandering around muttering to himself? His whiteboard scribbles still shape the way I design user journeys today.

Neurodiversity wasn't our weak link.

It was our strength.

Takeaway: Together, We Were Lightning

I look back now and realize:

We didn't just tolerate neurodivergence—we thrived because of it.

I didn't always possess the language. I didn't observe what ADHD or autism or sensory processing were like in a team setting. But I did know this: whenever I observed someone's "weird" tics, it was almost always where their superpower came from.

The key is to provide space for it.

To give it space to breathe.

To give it room to spark.

Your Turn: What's Your ND Team Story?

If you’ve worked with a neurodivergent team—creative agency, startup, game studio, or wherever—I’d love to hear about it.

What worked? What didn’t? What surprised you?

Drop a comment, send me a message, or write your own version.

Let’s normalize how powerful ND collaboration can be—not just as an option, but as an advantage.