Ten years ago, I felt that I really needed a job. I wasn’t facing the threat of an eviction or wondering where my next meal would come from. Being a stay-at-home mom wasn’t bad. I was pretty good at the mom part, but the other part of the job – cooking and cleaning everyday – didn’t do anything for me. It wasn’t enough. The job I had been searching for finally appeared in the newspaper. Hallelujah, I’m going to get right on this, I thought. Happy days are here again! Just the thought of having a job lifted my spirits, never mind the hoops I needed to jump through to actually land the call center job. That’s right, I was excited about a call center job!

I had no idea what I was getting myself into, but I was eager to find out. Ignorance is bliss. Yeah, the turnover was sky high, but that was expected. It was like a factory. During my six-year employment with the company, I learned I needed to sink or swim. My stats sucked. No ifs, ands, or buts about it: I was sinking. I hated to see the email stating the team stats are posted. Why bother getting up to see how inept I was compared to the super humans who had mastered the art of cutting corners and BSing? I’m not hating though.

Sitting at my workstation, taking call after call, complaint after complaint: Where’s my bag? Why do I need to pay an additional fee to change my ticket? Why do I need to buy two seats? Dealing with that environment became a struggle. It began to wear me down. The sad part is that I didn’t try to change.

It was like I was stuck in a depressing routine of get up, endure eight hours of shift work, go back home, deal with family, go to bed, repeat. As if the powers that be knew I needed a boost, a team pep talk was scheduled. A company leader said, whatever you have going on, forget it! “Build a bridge and get over it!”

I wanted to start building that bridge, but I felt like I was always on an elevator and I couldn’t get off. As a new hire, I got on at the top floor in terms of my enthusiasm. Anxiety was through the roof every time I received a call. The elevator moved downward, stopping at every single floor. People getting on and off, everyone except me. I couldn’t tear myself away from the call center life nor could I make it better. I didn’t know where to begin with the bridge over toxic waters. The reality was I couldn’t break the depressive cycle. My mind knew the work wasn’t good for me, but it wouldn’t allow me to even seriously think about leaving.

I believe the thing that slowed my elevator descent into complete darkness was the opportunity to wear different hats within the call center. My job positions changed, but still, I never really left the elevator going down.

I enjoy helping people whenever possible, but I am helpful to a fault. I had the dismal stat hold time, talk time, wrap time, and my depression to prove it. The dim shining light of hope was the challenge of solving problems and defusing bombs (did I say bomb?) that cancelled and delayed flights could create within passengers. It required me to endure verbal abuse. However, I learned to defuse the situations quickly by killing them with kindness and humor.

My most memorable encounter was a disgruntled passenger who demanded that the airline find a way for him to reach his destination. I accepted the call transfer and the man on the other end of the phone began to unload his anger. I understood that when frustrated, everyone needs an outlet; everyone needs to vent, including me.

Once he let all of his anger spill over, I remembered a line from the movie Home Alone (one of my favorites). I informed him once again that there were no flights available to his destination.

I took a huge risk when I said sarcastically, “Sir, maybe you should hitchhike on the runway.”

There was dead silence. The silence seemed to last forever. Oh ish, real bad judgment call, I thought. In actuality, it was probably less than a minute before I heard the man burst into uncontrollable laughter. I laughed, too. Afterwards, he thanked me for offering humor to help him let the negative energy go.

I learned to use kindness and humor to mask my downward spiral. I abused caffeine and over the counter pills to self medicate so that I could pretend to construct the bridge the boss suggested and survive on the call center hamster wheel. It was a mistake. Here’s why: One day at work, I found that I could hardly speak. A transfer call from another agent said, “You sound sexy.” Well, I wasn’t trying to pull off a Marilyn Monroe impersonation, that’s for darn sure. One side of my body was semi–paralyzed; I could hardly walk. I was scared. That day, I took very few calls by staying in “wrap.” Wrap is used to document a record (and waste time).

Why didn’t I go home? I don’t know. It probably wasn’t a good idea to drive anyway. Thankfully, the symptoms subsided after a few hours. Unfortunately, the symptoms of depression and anxiety remain my close companions, but I manage the symptoms now, instead of the symptoms managing me.

Signed,
Bipolar II