Virtual Meetings: The Autistic Dream (Except for the Part Where I See My Own Face)

Let me be the first to say it:
Thank you, technology.

Thank you for blessing us with virtual meetings—the sacred space where I, an autistic human with the social finesse of a wet napkin, can finally interact with others without worrying about gestures vaguely at everything involving a real room full of people.

Honestly, remote meetings are the introvert-autistic-socially-anxious trifecta jackpot.

Let me count the ways:

1. No Eye Contact Olympics

In real life, making eye contact is like trying to do algebra while someone shines a flashlight in my eyes and throws small pebbles at me.
Is it too much? Too little? Am I staring into their soul now? Are we bonding or are they calling security?

But on Teams?

Eye contact is literally impossible.
I can just look at their face on my screen, or at the little dot of my camera, or off to the side into the void, and no one knows the difference.

It’s all a glorious illusion.

2. Body Language 

You know what’s hard?
Trying to decode someone’s crossed arms, eyebrow raise, or that thing people do where they smile but also frown somehow. What am I supposed to do with that?

In virtual meetings, 90% of body language is cropped out.
You’ve got a square head and a few emojis in the chat.

That’s it. That’s all I need.

Are you nodding? Great.

Did you drop a “😂” in the chat? We’re good.

Hit me with a thumbs up emoji? Amazing.

Nothing at all? That’s fine too—at least I don’t have to guess what your elbow angle means.

3. The Glorious, Merciful "Leave Meeting" Button

Do you know how many hours of my life I’ve lost lingering in meeting rooms because I'm never sure when it's socially safe to leave?

The awkward shuffle.
The “Haha okay, well…”
The “Guess I’ll just… head out then…

Now?

I click “Leave Meeting.”
Boom. Gone.
Like a ninja in slippers.
No explanation, no small talk, no social exit sequence required.
Just a button.
A sweet, beautiful, button.

4. Emojis: The Rosetta Stone of Social Cues

Gone are the days of trying to guess what someone meant based on their tone.
Now I get actual clues!

😊 = This is fine.

🙃 = This is fine, but not fine.

🤔 = They’re either thinking or suspicious. Unclear. Proceed with caution.

😂 = We are now bonded for life.

👀 = Drama is happening and we are watching.

Honestly, emojis have done more for my social interpretation than 15 years of forced eye contact and group projects combined.

But then… There’s my face.

Here’s the downside no one warned me about:
Seeing myself on screen.

The first time I joined a video meeting and caught sight of my own face, I audibly said, “Oh no.”

I now understand why people used to constantly ask me:

“Are you okay?”

“Are you upset?”

“Do you hate this?”

“Do you… smell burnt toast?”

Apparently, my resting face is a bizarre combo of “deeply skeptical librarian” and “person trying to divide 437 by 12 in their head while also holding back a sneeze.”

I had no idea. I thought I looked… neutral.
Turns out my “thinking face” looks like I’m plotting a mild revolution.

So now, during meetings, I spend at least 30% of the time just trying to adjust my face to look “normal.” Whatever that means.

Smile… but not too much.
Look interested… but not manic.
Don’t furrow your brow unless it’s for something professional like “budget concerns.”

It’s exhausting. I’ve become my own live-action facial director.

Virtual meetings may have their flaws (like seeing myself emote weirdly), but overall?

No crowded conference rooms.
No deciphering who’s leaving first.
No guessing which smile means “good idea” and which one means “I’m politely suppressing rage.”

Just me, my screen, and my emotional support emojis.

If you need me, I’ll be in my virtual meeting square.
Camera on.
Mic muted.
Face trying its best.

And ready to hit “Leave” the moment someone says, “Okay, I think we’re all set…”

CLICK.

Gone.