In 2008, I was diagnosed with epilepsy after waking up twice in sick bay on deployment with no memory of the seizures that put me there. My diagnosis meant a medical separation, abruptly ending my career as a Naval officer.
I’m lucky to have served and grateful to have benefits that many other veterans do not receive. My disability pales in comparison to others who lost their lives or were injured in combat.
My next 11 years weren’t exactly a picnic, though. It took six failed anticonvulsant cycles and hundreds of breakthrough seizures before my neurologist and I found the right solution. As I approach seven years seizure free, my new normal is much improved. Extraordinary care from the Veterans Affairs Medical Center has also helped address stubborn side effects of traumatic brain injury (TBI), proving that disability isn’t a single dial that turns everything down at once.
Now, I’m more than ready to roll up my sleeves and really “get stuff done” again. Yet my job search experience shows that many human resources professionals, even in the public sector, still treat disability as secondary to the conversation on race and gender.
Since leaving the Navy, I’ve gradually accepted some limitations. Swallowing my pride, I requested reasonable accommodation, a right under the Americans with Disabilities Act and the Rehabilitation Act, once at a federal contractor and once at a federal agency.
Both times, the process stalled. My unprepared supervisors ranged from indifferent to terrified, and no formal processes or paperwork followed.
At one point, weeks after I disclosed that my anticonvulsant can cause irritability, a team leader looked at me in a meeting, in front of prospective project partners, laughed, and said, “We all have scars and PTSD from working with the military,” then turned to ask the external team about their own experience.
From the outside, epilepsy is invisible. You can’t see any of the struggle or effort it took to get here. The same invisibility, I’ve learned, extends to how broken the accommodation and hiring systems are.
After pushing to find the right private-sector fit, I expanded my search over the past year to include government roles through both the 30% or More Disabled Veteran and Schedule A noncompetitive special hiring authorities — streamlined pathways designed to bypass some federal red tape for qualified disabled candidates. Instead of an easy solution, I learned that these noncompetitive hiring paths, much like reasonable accommodation, are underused at best and broken at worst.
My experience reflects a massive cohort: Today, roughly half of the 5.6 million post-9/11 veterans report a service-connected disability, and 70% of those carry a rating of 60% or higher. Overall, veterans with a disability face a 6.1% unemployment rate, nearly double the 3.4% rate for veterans without one, according to the Labor Department. Behind that gap are men and women ready to work and eager to serve again. They run into a system that doesn’t know how to hire them.
Take the hiring process first. Nearly one in four employed veterans with a service-connected disability works directly for the federal government.
The Office of Personnel Management’s latest report shows that agencies hired 41,819 disabled veterans in FY2024. Yet, barely 1% — just 727 individuals — came through Schedule A, the hiring authority specifically designed for qualified applicants with disabilities. While the report omits data on the 30% or More Disabled Veteran authority, previous figures show it fares little better: In FY2022, it accounted for only 3,362 hires, or 6.2% of all veteran hirings.
Getting hired is only half the battle. Once you’re in the door, simply mentioning reasonable accommodation likely evokes an employer’s worst fears: an Equal Employment Opportunity Commission (EEOC) complaint, an investigation that averages the better part of a year and a lawyer. That’s not a process — it’s a deterrent. It’s no wonder my supervisors had no formal procedures in place. There’s little incentive to build them when the only enforcement mechanism is slow, rare and adversarial.
What moved the needle for me wasn’t the EEOC process, but a congressional inquiry: My senator’s office has been asking questions that I couldn’t get responses to on my own. Again, I’m thankful, but veterans shouldn’t need a senator’s office for assistance that an HR department should have provided in the first place.
I recommend two fixes.
First, modernize onboarding. When a job applicant identifies as “protected veteran” at any organization receiving federal funds, share accommodation policies with the new hire and simply ask whether they need a reasonable accommodation. Remove the stigma and the liability before day one, instead of waiting for a complaint to force the conversation.
Second, make special authorities the default. OPM should position the 30% or More Disabled Veteran and Schedule A hiring authorities as the standard, not the exception. Bypassing these noncompetitive authorities is a missed opportunity to recruit veterans who thrive under pressure, adapt quickly and deliver results — all while reducing onboarding times by months compared to the traditional competitive process. Agencies that embrace these tools can put tested, proven talent to work much faster.
The laws are already in place. Getting hired is hard. Getting accommodated is harder. Both are fixable — if agencies choose to actually use the tools already on the books.
Brian Strickler is a veteran Navy intelligence officer, independent consultant and author of “Men of Character: 50 Role Models for the Next Generation.”
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