Companies wanting to create neuro-inclusive workplaces can learn from this potential blunder by Merlin Entertainments this week.

On paper, it might sound minor to change the way they distribute ride passes. In reality, it removes one of the few adjustments that made a full day out possible for many neurodivergent families.

I’ve used these passes with my ADHD/autistic son. Without them, we simply wouldn’t go.

And that’s the point people are missing.

These passes were never “queue jumping”.

They didn’t let you ride more. They didn’t give you special treatment. They didn’t get you ahead of everyone else.

They simply let you wait outside the queue.

Typically, you’d either:

• receive a return time based on the current queue length, or

• ride immediately but then be blocked from booking another ride until that same wait time had passed.

So you didn’t get more rides. You just didn’t have to stand for an hour in a packed, noisy, slow-moving crowd with no space to move.

For many neurodivergent people, that environment isn’t uncomfortable – it’s intolerable.

Impulsivity.
Poor emotional regulation.
A need to move.
Sensory overload from noise, light and heat.
Feeling trapped or hemmed in.

These aren’t preferences. They’re access barriers.

Remove the adjustment and what was a fun day out becomes a meltdown waiting to happen.

So families opt out entirely.

That isn’t fairness. It’s exclusion.

What’s particularly frustrating is the double standard. If you have money, you can buy premium fast-track passes that genuinely let you skip queues altogether. No one questions those.

But give disabled people a reasonable adjustment that simply lets them wait somewhere calmer? Suddenly it’s “unfair”.

We seem comfortable with privilege. We’re less comfortable with access.

That says a lot.

The bigger issue, though, isn’t just about one theme park. It’s about design thinking.

When people complain that accommodations are unfair, they’re usually imagining a fixed system where helping one person must disadvantage another.

But that’s lazy design.

If we design better systems, everyone benefits.

Some parks already use digital queue systems through apps. You book a ride slot, come back later, and the app locks until the wait time has passed.

Why not make that standard for everyone?

Instead of hundreds of people standing in long lines getting frustrated, you spread demand out. People wait elsewhere. They get food. They explore. They spend money. Everyone has a better day.

Win-win.

Or improve the queues themselves:

• more shelter from heat or rain

• more space

• quieter areas

• small activities along the route

• easy ways to step out and rejoin if someone needs the toilet or a breather

These are small changes. Cheap changes. Practical changes.

They’d massively improve the experience for neurodivergent visitors.

And for everyone else too.

Because here’s the truth: nobody actually likes queuing.

This is exactly how neuro-inclusion should work – not special treatment, but smarter systems.

And the lesson goes far beyond theme parks.

Workplaces often make the same mistake. They treat accommodations as exceptions or burdens rather than improvements.

But when you design for neurodivergent needs – clearer communication, flexible schedules, quieter spaces, better planning tools – everyone benefits.

Less friction. Less stress. Better performance.

Neuro-inclusive design isn’t about doing something extra for a few people.

It’s about removing unnecessary barriers for everyone.

Alton Towers had something that worked. Something that quietly enabled thousands of families to take part.

Taking that away isn’t efficiency. It’s short-sighted.

If your systems only work for people who can tolerate discomfort, you haven’t built an inclusive system.

You’ve just filtered out the people who need access most.

And that’s not inclusion at all.

If you want to talk to us about how to make your workplace more neuro-inclusive, email Lerryn today: lerryn@equinoxbusiness.co.uk

Or check out our corporate neurodiversity training courses below: