On Long Island, autistic adults seek work amid hiring hurdles
Kyle Verity rides his custom electric bicycle to his job at McDonald’s in Mattituck, where he has worked for 18 years. Credit: Elizabeth Sagarin
Kyle Verity sat at the kitchen table of his family’s Mattituck home one summer day in 2007, sorting coins into plastic cups. The 16-year-old was preparing for his first job at McDonald’s, and learning how to make change was a make-or-break skill.
His mother, Patti, a schoolteacher, sat beside him, guiding him as he counted out 75 cents from a dollar.
“Okay, you need how many cents?” she asked.
He narrowed his eyes, furrowed his brow and reached slowly for each coin. Sometimes he got it wrong. But he kept at it, session after session. He and Patti no longer agree how long it took — days, maybe weeks — but eventually, it clicked.
“I learned it right here,” Kyle said recently, sitting at the same rectangular wooden table, tapping it with his finger. “I know my money now.”
For Kyle, who has autism spectrum disorder, mastering change was a gateway to a job he’s now held for 18 years.
Across Long Island, many other autistic adults are just as ready — and just as eager — to work. But finding and keeping a job remains one of the steepest challenges they face. The data reflects that gap.
In 2023, the unemployment rate for Long Islanders with a “cognitive difficulty” — a category that includes autism — was 16.5%, nearly five times higher than for non-disabled residents. For autistic adults across the United States, the jobless rate has been estimated at more than 38%, according to a 2021 study. Even Long Island’s overall disabled population fares better, with an unemployment rate of 8.9%.
“There are incredibly talented individuals who are bright and so capable,” said Kim Gilbert, a clinical psychologist at Hofstra University who diagnoses autism and works with employers. “What they need are workplaces where they can emotionally, sensory, and physically regulate.”
Benefit limits, the challenges of traditional interviews, stigma and sensory-heavy workplaces without simple accommodations often shut them out. And when support drops off after high school — and employers underestimate what’s possible — too many are left on the margins, experts said.
Still, a handful of Long Island companies are proving it doesn’t have to be this way.
A job that doesn’t ask you to hide

Spectrum Designs employee Kerey Viswanathan on the job, packaging orders. Credit: Debbie Egan-Chin
Kerey Viswanathan, 39, spent most of his life not knowing he was on the spectrum. It wasn’t until 2012, at age 26, that he learned he was autistic — and that his parents had chosen not to tell him.
“A light bulb went off in my head and I thought, ‘Oh my god, this explains so much about me,” said Viswanathan, a Brooklyn resident who commutes to Spectrum Designs in Port Washington, where he works part-time.
At Spectrum — a screen printing and custom apparel nonprofit — more than half of its 82 employees have disclosed a developmental disability. Founded in 2011 to create meaningful jobs for Long Islanders on the spectrum, the organization’s employees do everything from designing and laying out apparel to printing and shipping orders.
Viswanathan, who has worked in freelance film production and hopes to return to the field, said he often felt overwhelmed on set — surrounded by people barking orders, struggling to prioritize tasks.
“There were moments when people would scream at me and I would get temperamental,” he said.
His experiences at Spectrum, on the other hand, have felt “freeing.” He said working in a place designed to support autistic workers means he doesn’t have to mask — hiding behaviors like stimming, the repetitive movements some autistic people use to self-regulate, in order to appear neurotypical.
Patrick Bardsley, co-founder and CEO of Spectrum, said the nonprofit’s success — including its first $1 million sales month in April and clients like Microsoft, JPMorgan Chase and Northwell Health — comes down to one thing: employees feeling seen, heard and accommodated.
“We change the way we communicate so we’re not just communicating verbally,” Bardsley said. “We have QR codes around the building that pop up with a video showing how to use the [screen printing] machine.”
He said small adjustments — like letting employees with sensory sensitivities wear headphones, using color-coded workstations, or offering instructions in different formats — make a big difference. Gilbert said many employers mistakenly assume workplace accommodations are expensive. She often helps adult patients by writing letters to employers suggesting simple, low-cost adjustments — especially for those with sensory sensitivities.
“The people with autism spectrum disorder who we’re trying to accommodate are going to do beautifully in the workplace when they are sensory regulated,” she said.
Nick Barone stands between Mark Cronin, left, and John Cronin, co-founders of John’s Crazy Socks, as he receives his first paycheck during a special ceremony at the company. Credit: Courtesy John's Crazy Socks
Nicholas Barone, 23, of Dix Hills has worked at Farmingdale-based John’s Crazy Socks since October 2024. Barone, an avid athlete and Special Olympics competitor, is tasked with finding and packaging inventory for online orders.
“I get a sheet of paper with [information about the orders], pick [the socks] and stack them neatly,” Barone said, describing his process. “I like making sure everything is right and accurate.”
His mother, Stacey Barone, said her son, who has an intellectual disability, is safe and thriving at John’s Crazy Socks. When he received his first paycheck, the company marked the moment with a small ceremony and a photo.
“It’s a company that is able to look at this population and say, they can bring something to us,” she said. “And whenever you set the expectations higher, they’re going to reach for it.”
And whenever you set the expectations higher, they’re going to reach for it.
—Stacey Barone, Nicholas Barone's mom
At John’s Crazy Socks, 22 of the company’s 34 employees have a disability. Most are on the spectrum, have intellectual disabilities or cerebral palsy, according to the company.
Co-founder Mark X. Cronin, who launched the business in 2016 with his son John, who has Down syndrome, said the key to creating a supportive workplace is starting from an assumption of competence.
“Everybody who works here has earned that job and they know that,” Cronin said. “That’s part of the dignity of the job.”

Credit: John's Crazy Socks
Everybody who works here has earned that job and they know that. That’s part of the dignity of the job.
—Mark X. Cronin, co-founder of John's Crazy Socks
Credit: John's Crazy Socks
Barriers to work
Even qualified autistic adults can be shut out of jobs by a lack of accommodations, social stigma and communication challenges. Marissa Bennett, vice president of the Melville-based Autism Coalition of Long Island, said the transition out of school is a breaking point for many.
“Unfortunately, we see a lot of individuals that maybe go through the school district setting and graduate, and then they may try to work a job, but for a variety of factors, they can't hold on to that job,” Bennett said. “We have people in the autism world that are highly educated, multiple degrees, PhDs, that cannot hold down a job. It’s about communication and social skills. That’s the downfall — not their intelligence.”
In Mattituck, Patti Verity said her son has dealt with customers who aren’t always kind, including one who would come in and pick on Kyle because of his autism. Patti said her son is allowed by management to take breaks if he gets upset.
“He was constantly on Kyle’s case,” Patti recalled. “Finally one day he was asked to leave” by a manager.
Patti said she is also in a constant back-and-forth with the Social Security Administration, trying to ensure her son Kyle doesn’t lose his Supplemental Security Income benefits. Kyle wants to work more than his current 12 hours a week, but Patti said the income limits tied to SSI make that difficult.
“He used to work about 20 hours a week,” she said.
Most rely on either SSI, which is need-based, or SSDI, tied to work history. SSI has strict financial caps: recipients can’t have more than $2,000 in savings, and after the first $85 earned each month, benefits are reduced by 50 cents per dollar.
Earning $1,000, for example, drops the SSI check by $457.50. SSDI offers more flexibility, including trial work periods, but many on SSI are afraid to take on more hours or promotions, fearing it could jeopardize their entire safety net.
Bardsley of Spectrum Designs said the impact is visible and immediate.
“We’ve had people turn down promotions, turn down shifts and extra hours over that fear of going over that low limit,” he said. In some cases, he added, parents have asked him not to pay their adult children to keep them from crossing income caps.
But benefits aren’t the only hurdle. Some workplaces still don’t provide basic accommodations — things as simple as written instructions, step-by-step guidance or breaking tasks into manageable parts.
“If someone is rapid-firing commands or gives three instructions in a row, it can be very overwhelming,” said Gilbert. “It can also be very disconcerting not to know where to start.”
For many autistic workers, simply showing up — and pushing forward — is its own quiet act of resilience.
Kyle Verity, the McDonald’s worker, rides his custom electric bike to each shift and has reached personal milestones that might seem small to others but fill him with pride, from grilling his first hamburger to making fries and running the register.
Customers, however, know him best for what he does as they leave — something not in his job description — opening the door and wishing them a great day.
He’s come a long way from the kitchen table where he learned to count change.
Now, he has advice for others like him, still looking for a chance to work:
“Try your best,” he said.

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