I have worked in the tech industry for almost six years, growing from a customer support rep into some kind of GTM Swiss army knife today. Before that, I was working in a more traditional corporate environment, providing sales and customer service at an insurance company. The difference between these environments is night and day, but neither one really made me feel like I made it.

When I was working at an insurance company, the work was soul-crushing; it was essentially a call center, and when you’re dealing with increasing premiums, policies that cancelled for non-payment, or policies that were declined because of really specific underwriting concerns, you end up the punching bag. You get screamed at, cursed at, filibustered and held hostage on the line — and you’ve gotta maintain a cool head throughout. I would get a monthly “performance” meeting where my manager would listen to 2 random calls from the whole month and score them, then tell me what I’m doing well and what I need to work on. We had to switch our statuses when we went to the bathroom, or needed to spend a little extra time writing notes after a call. I have genuinely been reprimanded for taking too long in the bathroom of for getting back from my lunch break 2 minutes late.

In a call center environment, service level is the most important metric. Answer calls quickly, don’t leave people hanging, and resolve their issue. Don’t get stuck on calls, but don’t give bad service. Upsell them when you see an opportunity that they aren’t “taking advantage” of, like life insurance (everybody needs it!!!). Somewhere towards the bottom of the list of things to care about, I assume, is employee happiness.

For some folks, this was tolerable. The medical insurance provided was decent, the benefits like an annual bonus felt good, and sometimes there was a potluck where you could eat Susan’s famous chili crockpot — never mind that you are 90% sure you have seen her sneezing into her open hand several times in the past week.

This was not worth it for me. I was miserable. I was working an evening shift, often clocking out at 10 P.M. and getting home close to 11. I would stay up late playing video games or bingeing a show, and then I got to spend my day dreading the fact that work was still coming up. I was making $45,000 when I decided to leave. I got hired at about $40,000. My salary increased $5,000 in 4 years at that company. I was struggling to get by, and struggling to enjoy my life outside of work. That free time was filled with gaming, reading, and some personal writing.

The pandemic forced us out of the office and back to our homes to try and do the work remote. Something about having to take these awful calls in my own oasis — my comfort cabana, if you will — actually made all of this worse. Home was supposed to be my escape, and now the anger and frustration of the work was attached to it. Under my skin and the floorboards. I had to get out.

I jumped to do customer support at a tech company for that same salary. At the time, the decision was driven by a few things:

• The medical coverage was better
• The hours were during the day
• It was remote, with a more relaxed environment
• There was a very loud, consistent promise of growth

It was weird to want a remote working environment given my frustration with insurance, but there was something about the expected work and the customers the company dealt with that felt non-threatening to me. And every part of the interview was so different. The fact that the interview for my insurance job was essentially 2 sessions (can you handle customer support conversations, and can you type and talk) VS the tech world of multiple interviews with the last being a virtual onsite meeting with 5-6 different people, already signaled that something was bound to be different. And it was. I fell in love with the company and working environment very quickly.

Early on, I felt like I was genuinely part of something. I received company swag and gifts. We had monthly “self-care” days that were paid days off. I had a strong PTO accrual policy and knew that if I made it to a salaried role, I would get unlimited PTO. I got to use tech-forward software like Intercom rather than clunky enterprise call center tech like Genesys. But the craziest difference was how frequently my manager and skip-level manager talked to me and asked me about the operations. They were genuinely looking for ways to improve different workflows, and they listened to me. A lot. I began to stand out quickly by asking so many questions and making a lot of recommendations. I became obsessed with knowing the product inside and out, and understanding what our customers ask, how they ask it, and how we should best support them.

Suddenly, I was a prime candidate to help build out our offshore support team with some others. I was able to train and coach reps in a way that gave me a “test run” at people management. Within two years, I went from a customer support rep making $45,000 to a customer support manager making about $75,000. I got to take on the challenge of managing our U.S. support team in a salaried role.

The reality of that situation was different. It was incredibly hard. I struggled a lot and learned that I’m actually not that great at people management (I’m sure I’ll write about that later). For two more years, I was constantly fighting to manage my own feelings of burnout and inadequacy. I was being stretched and pushed to grow. My management style was extremely empathetic, and that was a problem. I needed to act and give feedback more quickly. I needed to be ready to fire newly hired reps at the earliest signs that they may not be a good fit. I needed to build strategies that plan for the next 18 months of the support environment (how do we scale these teams? build new motions? automate more?). It was a lot of growth and development in those years. I learned so much, but at a significant cost.

In 2025 I was able to shift my role into a CX operations focus. I could test and experiment with different motions while building out what those things would look like if and when adopted by other teams. This was where I thrived. As an independent contributor with a lot of autonomy and authority over my work, I was very skilled. Things adapted over time and I continue to do that CX work today, with caveats.

The trust I have earned at my company is amazing. I report up to the Executive Leadership team. I provide strategic guidance to different teams, and then I get to put on my CX Ops or GTM Engineering hat to build 0-to-1 processes for people to take over. I talk to customers within interesting cohorts that we may want to better prioritize. I work independently and collaboratively with analytics to see lots of data visualizations that help tell stories about what our customers are doing. In many ways, I’m doing something I genuinely never expected to be able to do in my career. And I’m making over $100,000 to do it.

So, is it worth it?

I’m still trying to figure out the answer. There are days where I am energized and motivated by my work. Exciting moments where leaders across the company actually commend me for my insights or accomplishments, and that feels good. I have a level of financial security that, again, I never thought I would see in my life.

But there’s a cost. I am constantly thinking about work. I have to force myself to stop. I have Slack on my phone, and the messages don’t stop. Sometimes there are questions or comments that imply that I need to dig in more, or provide context. Sometimes, there are “fires” that require me to help out in some way. Sometimes, there’s just an unspoken, expected responsibility that I’m constantly thinking about what’s next and taking actions before anyone thinks about it. Work-life balance is a meaningless concept in the tech world. People have tried to introduce new concepts, like work-life “harmony”, and it drives me crazy. Because that isn’t the real message from these companies. You can see that every day, from the high-performance culture on display on video calls or Slack channels, or the slashing of team headcount to “operate lean” and “invest in AI” and drive profitability. The message is clear: work is your life, or you get the fuck out.

At least in the older, corporate world, and with many hourly jobs today, the work ends when your shift ends. You can go about your life without a care in the world as to what’s happening in the workplace. It’s not your problem until you clock back in. And the days may be redundant and boring and aggravating. But you get your life, and there’s a light at the end of the day, week, year, career. Here, the work comes with you. It stays with you. It throws you in the ocean and challenges you to find land. There are some people who may genuinely love that. I can’t say that I admire them, but I can understand it. I’m not sure I’m that person.

I’m writing this as someone who might be seen as “thriving” or “successful” in the eyes of my boss or my coworkers, but who is, in reality, running a marathon without lungs. And I’m asking myself: is it better to burn out, or fade away?