Note: No neurotypicals were harmed in the making of this amusing anecdote.
When I was 17, I had a job washing up in a pub (The Rose and Castle in Ansty).
The manageress was an intimidating neurotypical.
She would breeze in, look me straight in the eyeballs and ask “You alright, Charlie?”.
I would always drop a plate.
Eventually she learned, and stopped staring into my eyeballs and asking me confusing questions.
Her remaining plates were safe.