Free to be me

Six years ago, I took my daughter for a dyslexia test that threw up some surprising results.

I went to school in the 70s. I remember being called up to the front to solve a quadratic equation and thinking: 'how do you add up letters?'. I felt like the village idiot standing in front of a classful of kids who, as I’m sure you can imagine, slaughtered me.

I was completely humiliated and from that point on I knew something wasn’t quite right. But it wasn’t until an expert spotted family linkages that I could ever prove it. That was 35 years later when my daughter was tested.

I went into the world of work straight from school, the kid on the street that fixed everybody’s VCR: I became a computer operator at 17. That’s when I developed coping mechanisms to make sure I could thrive in meetings.

I remember working at IBM, a very spreadsheet-driven organisation, and I’d take the data from the spreadsheets and sketch it all out on flipchart paper so I could embed it in my brain before a big meeting.

It was an obviously different approach. But when I think back, the person that made me feel like an outsider is me. I’d be in a conversation, struggle to find the right words – they’d just disappear from my head – and I’d feel myself going red and end up being the quietest person in the room.

I joined EY, became a board member and my insecurities got out of control. I got the fear. I wasn’t an accountant; I didn’t have a university education and, in my own mind, I wasn’t as bright as the people sat around the table. I had this fear of being exposed as a fraud because I didn’t have a certificate that said I was intelligent.

Now, I realise mine is a different kind of brightness; a different way of looking at things. I play blues guitar outside work – I’m completely self-taught – but that creativity is a direct result of thinking differently.

One of my biggest strengths is relationship building and I’m very rarely wrong when it comes to reading the room. Equally, I can stand back, look at the four-year plan and see what we need to do to get there.

I've also been able to recognise the power of collaboration and the value that different perspectives bring to a project. I work really well with another Partner at EY, Daniel Pearson, who is the total opposite of me. As a leader, I like to surround myself with people who are better than me and he’s so clever, while I bring the vision and strategy.

I’ve battled self-doubt and I made myself feel like an outsider – but I’ve reached the level I’m at because I never stopped putting my hand up and saying yes to things.

Freedom from fear

My dyslexia diagnosis was significantly worse than my daughter’s, affecting both numbers and words. It was liberating.

The weight lifted from my shoulders at that moment. It gave me the freedom to say no to tasks that had previously frustrated me. This diagnosis came at 50 years of age and at the wrong end of my career – just imagine what I’d have done if I’d had support 35 years ago!

It’s important to me that we welcome everyone at EY, no matter their difference, and make extra efforts to understand each other’s working styles. I want us to instil people with the confidence I lacked as a young man so people can thrive here. Our networks and programmes such as Ability EY and EY Purple Champions create safe and inclusive environments for our people with disabilities, recognising that we can all perform better if we can be ourselves at work. Our firm is stronger for the diverse talent we have been able to support through them.