RudyValencia.com

Introduction

When I first joined CenturyLink as a Repair Service Attendant in December 2023, I had high hopes. I believed I was joining a company with a strong heritage tied to the legendary Bell System (Mountain Bell, Pacific Northwest Bell, and Northwestern Bell) before its divestiture in 1984. I had imagined a well-oiled machine where my efforts would contribute to an industry leader in customer satisfaction, quality service, and technical innovation. Instead, I found a company barely keeping pace with its reputation.

But as I settled into my role, I quickly realized that CenturyLink wasn’t the company I thought it would be. Beneath the surface, I found a company plagued by inefficiencies, poor communication, and a toxic work environment that took a toll on both employees and customers.

The Honeymoon Phase

The four weeks of instructor-led and computer-based training started out promising, though I missed three whole days and one partial day due to a hospitalization for diabetic ketoacidosis. While I tried to catch up, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had missed some crucial content. My 21 years of experience in technical support and customer service helped me fill in the gaps, but the initial setback created a lingering sense of uncertainty.

Following training, I entered three weeks of ‘assisted production,’ where seasoned agents, tagged as Subject Matter Experts (SMEs), would help us navigate policies, procedures, or system questions. The support from SMEs was reassuring, and the slow trickle of calls gave me time to reflect on each interaction and hone my skills. With calls spaced out, it felt like I was being eased into a role that would gradually ramp up, and I was optimistic about the journey ahead. I thought this was the perfect environment to learn and grow. At the time, I thought the pace would remain steady and that the support I received would ensure a smooth transition. Little did I know, this ‘honeymoon phase’ was only temporary.

The Cracks Appear

After those early weeks of relatively smooth onboarding, by the time summer of 2024 arrived, I started to notice cracks forming beneath the surface.

One of the most glaring issues was the company’s mishandling of dispatch tickets. When delays occurred — often due to internal miscommunication, staffing shortages, or poor coordination between teams — customers were left completely in the dark. No one would notify them about dispatch date carryovers or if their ticket had been passed to a specialty team like cable repair, central office technicians, or provisioning. Instead of being informed, customers were left waiting in limbo for weeks, sometimes months, with almost no updates or reassurance from us.

As a Repair Service Attendant, I was on the front lines, fielding calls from customers who had been left in the dark. One particularly memorable call came from a woman who had been waiting for over a month to have her internet repaired, with no updates from our team. Her voice trembled with frustration as she explained that her home-based job depended on having a stable connection. In moments like these, I felt powerless. I was expected to stick to a rigid script of vague talking points, like ‘based on availability…’ or ‘it is our intention to work every ticket the day it is scheduled…’ These canned responses did nothing to ease the frustration — in fact, they often made things worse. I felt like I was failing the customers, and it was clear they felt abandoned.

To make matters worse, call volumes skyrocketed. What started as manageable with time between calls quickly turned into a relentless barrage of back-to-back calls, each one angrier than the last. The queue would be packed, and hold times stretched into hours. It became impossible to keep up with the sheer volume, and the system was clearly overwhelmed. We were short-staffed, and no matter how hard we tried, we simply couldn’t get to everyone fast enough.

The Interactive Voice Response (IVR) system — which was meant to streamline the customer experience — became another source of frustration. Customers who were already irritated by delays were greeted by an impersonal, automated system designed to keep them from reaching us, the Repair Service team, at all costs. It would loop through menu options, repeatedly suggesting self-help solutions or trying to reroute customers to different departments. By the time they finally got through to me, they were even more exasperated. It felt like I was constantly on the receiving end of their mounting frustration, with little power to fix the root cause of their issues.

Each day, the situation grew worse. Instead of resolving customer issues, I felt like a human shield, bearing the brunt of their justified anger but unable to offer real solutions. Internally, it became clear that dispatch tickets were slipping through the cracks. Miscommunication between departments and lack of coordination meant tickets were often shuffled from one team to another, without ever being worked on. The inefficiency was staggering.

The endless calls, the rigid talking points, and the broken internal systems left me feeling increasingly disconnected from the company I had once been excited to join. I wanted to help, but my hands were tied, and I began to dread each shift, knowing I was about to face more people who had been let down.

Management’s Response – or Lack Thereof

I wasn’t one to sit idly by while both customers and employees were being mistreated. As the mental and emotional toll of this environment began to wear on me, I knew I had to act. I had built my career on customer service and solving problems — it went against everything I believed in to simply ignore the chaos around me. So, I did everything within my power to raise concerns. I had multiple conversations with my supervisor, expressing my worries about the lack of customer communication, the technician dispatch delays, and the referral system that left customers waiting indefinitely. It felt like I was trying to push a boulder uphill, but I was determined to be heard.

At one point, a Team Support Coordinator (a position between agent and supervisor) told me outright, ‘It’s been this way for years,’ as if the chaos was simply an unavoidable part of the job. It was in that moment I realized how deeply the dysfunction ran — and how little management cared to change it.

In July or August, I was invited to a Q&A session, and for the first time in months, I felt a flicker of hope. I thought maybe, just maybe, this was my chance to bring these issues to light on a larger scale and initiate some real change. But as the session unfolded, my optimism quickly faded. Instead of productive dialogue, it became painfully obvious that this was nothing more than lip service. Management nodded along to our concerns, but their responses were vague and dismissive. Any hope I had for change was crushed as the issues were brushed aside. My colleagues and I continued to absorb the full brunt of customer dissatisfaction, while management offered no solutions — only empty promises.

In a last-ditch effort, I turned to an outside authority — the FCC — hoping that external pressure might force the company to finally take action. I meticulously documented the issues, filed a formal complaint, and waited for a response. It was a long shot, but I was desperate for some kind of accountability. Yet, as weeks passed with no meaningful response or follow-up, it became painfully clear that even this would not make a difference. My attempt to seek justice, for both myself and the customers, seemed to fall on deaf ears, leaving me feeling utterly powerless.

The Breaking Point

There was a particular moment, after yet another call where I had to give a customer the same scripted responses, when I realized I simply couldn’t do it anymore. My hands were tied, and I was done feeling powerless.

It wasn’t just the frustration of not being heard that got to me; it was the complete mental exhaustion of constantly dealing with angry customers, day in and day out, while being denied the tools to actually help them. Every day felt like an uphill battle, and the weight of it all began to seep into my personal life as well. I found myself unable to relax, my mind constantly racing with thoughts of the customers I couldn’t help, and the problems I couldn’t solve. It became painfully clear: I couldn’t keep subjecting myself to this toxic environment. The emotional strain was more than I could handle. That’s when I realized I couldn’t take it anymore — no más, as one might say in Spanish.

IMaking the decision to leave wasn’t easy, but I knew it was the only choice left if I wanted to protect my mental health. The company clearly wasn’t willing to address the systemic issues, and it became obvious that the people on the front lines — like me — weren’t valued. I had given everything I could, but staying any longer would continue to chip away at my mental health, and that was a price I was no longer willing to pay. There comes a point when you have to choose yourself, and I had finally reached mine.

So, on the morning of October 7, 2024, I made my decision final. I had one last Teams call with my supervisor, where I told her I was resigning, effective immediately, due to the impact this position was having on my mental health. As soon as I told her this, a wave of emotions washed over me — a mix of relief, sadness, and uncertainty. Relief that I had finally freed myself from an environment that was breaking me, but also sadness that it had come to this. After years of dedication in customer service, I was walking away not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice.

Moving Forward and Lessons Learned

While it wasn’t easy, stepping away from CenturyLink was ultimately the best decision I could have made. The toxic environment, the lack of transparency, and the inaction from management were all red flags I could no longer ignore. After I left, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. It was like I could finally breathe again, free from the constant pressure and emotional strain that had consumed me for months. Sometimes, the hardest decisions are the ones that lead to the greatest relief.

I’m sharing my story in the hopes that others who may be in similar positions know they are not alone. It’s easy to feel trapped in toxic environments, especially when you’ve invested so much time and effort into your job. But no job is worth sacrificing your mental health and well-being. Employees — and customers — deserve better. Companies like CenturyLink need to be held accountable for their mistreatment, and it’s crucial for individuals to recognize their own worth and take action when their workplace begins to negatively affect their lives. Walking away doesn’t mean you’ve given up; it means you’ve chosen yourself.

Moving forward, I’m excited to seek new opportunities that value my time, energy, and well-being. After this experience, I’ve learned how important it is to work for a company that respects and supports its employees, fosters open communication, and truly cares about the people it serves. I’m ready for a fresh start with an organization that aligns with those values, and I’m hopeful for the future ahead.

In Conclusion

Based on my experience, I cannot in good conscience recommend working for CenturyLink or using their services. The lack of communication regarding repair tickets and the labyrinthine complexity of their IVR system are simply not worth the frustration.

If there’s one thing this experience has taught me, it’s this: no job is worth sacrificing your mental health. If a company refuses to change and continuously fails to address the issues that affect both its employees and its customers, sometimes the best thing you can do is walk away. Prioritizing yourself isn’t a weakness — it’s a strength. Sayonara, CenturyLink. I’m moving on, and I’m taking my well-being with me.