u/lololololol1990

I’ve been in customer service for almost 15 years, and something in me has completely shut down over the past year.

I used to care about performance, targets, quality scores, customer experience, all of it. Even when jobs were stressful, there was still some sense of pride in doing the work well.

Now? I honestly don’t care anymore. Not because I’m lazy, but because I feel mentally exhausted in a way I can’t properly explain.

The weirdest part is how physical it has become.

Before logging in, I already feel anxious. The moment I hear the incoming call sound, my body tenses up. During shifts, I get constant headaches that feel like pressure building inside my skull. Sometimes it genuinely feels like my head is going to explode while talking to customers.

What messes with me is that outside of work, this doesn’t happen.

I can listen to loud metal music for hours and feel completely fine. Gaming relaxes me. Music relaxes me. Silence relaxes me. But the second I start talking to customers back-to-back for hours, the headaches start almost immediately.

It’s like my brain has started associating customer interaction itself with stress and danger.

And honestly, I think I’ve mentally checked out of the entire industry. I still do the job because bills exist, but emotionally, I feel disconnected from it. Targets don’t motivate me anymore.

Threats don’t scare me anymore. Even the idea of getting fired barely registers because I already feel drained all the time.

Has anyone else in long-term customer service or call center work hit this point where your mind and body just… stopped cooperating?

I attended a memorial today for a colleague who recently took her own life. What’s affecting me the most is that I had only interacted with her once, yet it hit me harder than I expected. Maybe it’s because that one interaction felt genuinely human in an environment that often feels emotionally numb. I remember making sure she got home safely that day, and now my mind keeps replaying how someone can seem present one moment and be silently fighting a battle none of us fully saw.

What surprised me today was how emotional I became while speaking about her. I just spoke honestly, and for the first time since hearing the news, I felt some kind of closure. It made me realize how deeply suicide affects even the people on the edges of someone’s life, not just their closest circle.

I think a lot of workplaces talk about mental health only after tragedy happens. But behind every “resource” or awareness email is a real person carrying pain we may never fully understand. Today reminded me that small moments of kindness toward people matter more than we think.

I genuinely hope she’s finally at peace.

Yesterday, a colleague of mine took their own life. I don’t know every detail, but it’s hard not to connect the dots when you’ve lived this job long enough. The constant pressure, the metrics, the monitoring, the feeling that you’re never doing enough no matter how much you give. It builds up quietly, and for some people, it becomes too much.

This line of work can wear you down in ways that aren’t obvious at first. You start your day already tense. Every call feels like it’s being judged. AHT, QA, CSAT, adherence, escalation handling, targets stacked on targets. You’re expected to be calm, empathetic, efficient, and perfect, even when you’re mentally exhausted or dealing with your own life outside work. And the worst part is, nobody really talks about how heavy that gets over time.

No metric is worth your mental health. Not a single one. No job is worth pushing yourself to a breaking point where you feel like there’s no way out. Companies will always have targets. That won’t change. But you have to draw a line for yourself somewhere, because they won’t do it for you.

For me, the only reason I stay somewhat grounded is because I’ve found escapes that actually help. Music and gaming. Stuff that pulls me out of that constant pressure loop, even if just for a while. Lately, I’ve been listening to Bloodclock by Fleshgod Apocalypse, and there’s a line in it that just sticks: “I’m not dead yet.” It sounds simple, but in moments where everything feels overwhelming, it hits differently. It reminds me to hold on, even when the day feels unbearable.

I’m not saying music or gaming fixes everything. It doesn’t. But having something, anything, that gives your mind a break can make a difference. It gives you space to breathe, to reset, to remind yourself that your life is bigger than your job.

If you’re reading this and you’re in this industry, please take care of yourself. Seriously. Step away when you need to. Don’t let numbers define your worth. Talk to someone if things feel too heavy. Find something that helps you decompress, whether it’s music, games, workouts, or just being alone in silence for a bit.

And if you’re struggling more than you’re letting on, please don’t keep it bottled up. You don’t have to carry it alone.

This job can push people to the edge. Yesterday proved that in the worst way possible. Don’t let it take you there too.