How One Bad Customer Service Experience Shaped My Career

One of the most important career decisions I ever made started with a single misspelled word.

As a college student, I was taking a FORTRAN programming course. Like many students, I spent long hours in the campus computer lab trying to get my assignments to compile. One afternoon, I reached a point where I couldn't figure out what was wrong.

So I did what many people do when technology isn't cooperating.

I asked for help.

The student working in the computer lab looked at my program and declined to assist.

"We can only help with syntax errors, not logic."

I returned to my terminal frustrated.

Eventually, I found the problem. It wasn't a complicated programming error or a flaw in my logic. I had misspelled the word INTEGER when defining a variable. One simple typo had prevented the program from compiling.

What stayed with me wasn't the typo. It was the experience of asking for help and walking away feeling unsupported.

That afternoon changed my career in a way I never expected.

Out of frustration, I applied for a job in that same computer lab.

I was hired.

From my first shift, I made a promise to myself.

Anyone who came to me for help would be treated with patience and respect. I would still follow the lab's policies, but I would do everything I could to guide students toward solving the problem themselves. Sometimes that meant asking questions. Sometimes it meant helping them narrow down the possibilities. Sometimes it simply meant reassuring them that they weren't the first person to encounter the issue.

I discovered something important.

People rarely need someone to show how much they know.

They need someone who helps them keep moving.

That lesson followed me into every technology role I've held since, from IT audits and software training to producing virtual conferences and coaching speakers before they step onto a virtual stage.

Today, when I work with nonprofit organizations, associations, and speakers, I often think back to that computer lab.

Technology can be intimidating.

Virtual events have countless moving parts.

Speakers worry about microphones, cameras, screen sharing, and what happens if something goes wrong.

My goal has never been to impress people with technical knowledge.

My goal is to create an environment where they can focus on their purpose instead of worrying about the technology.

That is one reason I describe my approach as Purpose-First Design. The technology matters, but it is never the destination. It exists to help people communicate, connect, and accomplish something meaningful.

Looking back, I'm grateful my program didn't compile.

If it had worked the first time, I might never have applied for that computer lab job. More importantly, I might never have discovered that my greatest contribution wasn't writing code.

It was helping people feel confident enough to keep going.

The software has changed dramatically over the years.

The principle hasn't.

Whether it's a college student debugging code or a keynote speaker preparing to address thousands of attendees online, the best technical support doesn't simply solve problems.

It gives people confidence.

Feel free to share this newsletter with a friend struggling with virtual events.

My company is Calm, Clear, Media. I produce virtual events for nonprofits and member organizations. I don’t just manage Zoom calls; I create experiences that reflect your mission and engage your audience. My job is to make sure everything runs smoothly so my clients can focus on impact.

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