the Greater Nomadic Council

The Hell That Is Tech Support

Salon is running its version of the Tech Support Horror Stories that periodically appear. It's a good read, especially for anyone who used to work on the phones. My own experience was a bit different, probably because I worked in-house for a small company, but it started to converge with the reality he describes towards the end.

When I started there, we had significant free time between calls, sometimes as much as half an hour. We would spend it chatting online, reading, playing games, or just browsing the web. Then the call volume started to go up so that those of us in the first tier were almost always on the phone. Tier Two, staffed by the more advanced and knowledgeable techs, became quite attractive as they still got to sit around most of the time. In theory, Tier One would stay on their calls until they either fixed them or had taken way too much time on the call (usually no more than 15-30 minutes). Then they'd escalate the call to a Tier Two tech, who usually fixed the problem. After a while, call volume increased again so even the Tier Two techs were almost always on call, but still, everyone sincerely tried to fix the caller's problem. Random monitoring of calls ensured that people were actually competent and friendly.

Then the company went public and moved into new buildings. Our customer base had grown steadily for several years and was now fairly significant. As a result, the tech support staff had easily doubled in size and call times became increasingly important. Managers began running 7 and 10 minute drills to keep the call times in Tier One low. These meant that after the designated number of minutes, if you hadn't solved the caller's problem, you escalated the call to Tier Two, where I now resided along with the other, more experienced techs. Whereas once we could rely on the lower tier support to actually have at least isolated the problem, logged it, and began some relevant troubleshooting, increasingly the logs, when they existed, stood as testimonies to the incompetence of our newer tech support employees. Rather than troubleshoot, they would, if halfway competent, simply try to rebuild everything that might possibly be wrong, a long and frustrating operation, particularly with the less-than-savvy callers will typically dealt with. The completely incompetent techs just flailed about randomly until the time constraints relieved them of further effort and they could escalate the call.

Clearly the concern had begun to shift from problem-solving to generating good statistics. Hold times had also increased dramatically. At first, callers would reach a tech almost immediately, then waits of 10 to 15 minutes became common. After moving to the new building, 30 to 45 minutes waits were the standard, and that just to speak to the initial, likely incompetent technician. Hold times for the Tier Two techs could be upwards of an hour. So, by the time I got a hold of the caller, they had probably been on the phone for almost two hours, talked to at least one idiot (provided this was their first call) and been subjected to the same soothing "music" for a very, very long time.

To preserve my sanity, fix the caller's problems, and get off the phone as quickly as possible, I developed serious mind control techniques. By this point in my career, the caller only needed to say a few words about the problem for me to correctly diagnose the problem and know what to fix. However, this was a minor concern. The caller was invariably confused, tired, frustrated, angry, or all of the above by this point. In order to counteract this, I would start the call by quickly asking for their username, pulling up the log of their calls, and stating the problem to them. Then, I would give a token commiseration or apology as appropriate while at the same time declaring my confidence that I would fix their problem quickly and they would be on their way if they would just calm down and work with me. Keeping a calm, soothing tone of voice was paramount. Even those who had become insane with rage and cared more about slaking their now rampant blood-lust than fixing their computer could usually be calmed this way. Once I had placed them in the proper, receptive state of mind, I would begin leading them through the troubleshooting process. I told them what to click on, then miraculously described precisely what was on their screen each step of the way, pausing only for confirmation from them that this was, in fact, the case. I had every obscure menu and checkbox memorized and knew the quickest way to describe it so that even the oldest, most terrified luddite would instantly recognize it. I never told them to 'right-click' or to 'close that window'. I said 'click on the right-hand mouse button' or 'with the left-mouse button click the "X" in the upper right hand corner'. Such wordy phrases would seem inefficient, but they poured from my mouth in rapid, dulcet tones, lulling the caller into a near trance. They did exactly what I told them quickly and without questions.

Having memorized the steps for every problem and the script I would use to guide the now compliant caller to a quick resolution, I increasingly became free to do other things while my mouth worked. I would read and reply to email, browse the web, or sometimes, sleep. By the time I returned my full attention to the caller (or woke up), their problem would be fixed, they would be happy, and I would be logging the results of the call and hanging up, thanking them for calling. I had discovered the Zen of Tech Support. The troubleshooting was important, but only insofar as mastering it allowed one access to the more important work of controlling the emotions of the help-seekers and guiding them to the calm of resolution. Not only that, but I stayed relatively unstressed, while keeping my call times spectacularly low.

Of course, the unending barrage of calls would eventually leave even a Jedi Master such as myself drained and depressed, leading me to learn new skills to try and advance into the coveted positions that would insulate me from the customers for good. Much like the Salon story I linked at the beginning, no one with any competence stayed on the phones for long after things got really bad. We all either moved up, away from the customers, abandoning them to the poorly trained idiots still on the phones, or quit to find less stressful, better paying jobs. Eventually, the company was bought by a much larger one, the call center was closed, and all the existing customers redirected to what I assume was an outsourced call center much closer to that described in the Salon piece.

May their troubled souls rot on hold.