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The original was posted on /r/maliciouscompliance by /u/firakti on 2024-10-30 12:11:29+00:00.
Buckle up, fasten seat your seatbelts and lend me your ears folks as this is gonna a be a long one…
I work in customer support for a company that provides specialized software to major players in the healthcare industry. Our clients aren’t your average users—they’re hospitals, clinics, and medical centers where downtime can have serious consequences. I’ve been with the company for five years and know our software inside out, so I’m often able to troubleshoot unusual problems and get things back on track without a hassle.
A few months ago, though, a new supervisor named Alex joined us. He was fresh from a corporate management program and came in with grand ideas about “efficiency” and “productivity.” In his mind, the solution to our “slow response times” was simple: a “script-only” policy. According to him, every client interaction needed to be scripted to prevent “wasting time on unnecessary advice.” No more custom solutions, no additional steps, no thinking outside the box. If a client’s issue wasn’t in the script, we were to log it, escalate it, and have them wait for a callback.
When Alex announced the new policy, I raised my hand, explaining that most clients call us precisely because they’re dealing with specific, time-sensitive issues. Sticking rigidly to the script would just frustrate them and, in many cases, fail to solve their problems entirely. Alex didn’t budge. “Everyone follows the script, no exceptions,” he said, smiling in that overconfident way that made it clear he thought he was reinventing the wheel. “If even our biggest client calls, you follow the script.”
Cue a couple of weeks later. One morning, I pick up a call and am greeted by the CEO of one of our top clients—a massive healthcare network we’ve worked with for years. They hold a multi-million-dollar contract with us, and losing them would be catastrophic. The CEO is calling in a panic because their entire system is down. The glitch they’re dealing with is blocking patient records and diagnostics, putting patient care at risk. This isn’t just a technical issue; it’s affecting people’s health.
As soon as he describes the issue, I recognize the problem. It’s a known bug with a straightforward, 5-minute workaround—something I’ve handled a dozen times before. But here’s the thing: the fix isn’t in the script. I’m immediately torn. My instincts tell me to help him, to do my job and prevent a disaster. But Alex’s strict orders echo in my head: “Follow the script. No exceptions.” If I help, I risk my job. If I don’t, I risk this client’s contract—and possibly lives.
So, I do exactly as Alex told me to do. I go through the script, step-by-painful-step. The CEO is losing patience fast. As I drone through basic troubleshooting steps he clearly doesn’t need, he interrupts, asking why I’m wasting time. I explain the policy: “I’m only allowed to offer solutions that are in our script. If this doesn’t fix it, I can escalate the case, and someone will call you back within 24 hours.”
He goes dead silent, then says, “Escalate it. Now.”
I log the issue as required, escalating it for a callback. Within an hour, word spreads that Alex has been summoned to an emergency meeting with our department head. Apparently, the CEO of our client had gotten in touch with our company’s leadership directly and wasn’t mincing words. He demanded an explanation for the sudden drop in our service quality and threatened to take his business elsewhere. Rumor has it he even said, “If your idea of support is running through a script instead of fixing the problem, then we’re done here.”
By the end of the day, we all received an email titled, “SCRIPT POLICY UPDATE.” Effective immediately, we were now “encouraged to use best judgment” and to go off-script as needed for high-priority issues. Alex’s entire “efficiency” plan was scrapped on the spot, and he’s now under “performance review.” It’s safe to say he’s lost any respect from our team, and I’m not sure his reputation will ever recover after that blunder.
In the days that followed, the story of the “client meltdown” spread like wildfire through the office, growing more exaggerated with each telling. Some people said the CEO threatened to sue. Others claimed he’d hinted at buying out a competitor. Regardless of the details, Alex’s name became a kind of cautionary tale, a reminder of what happens when you put rigid policies above common sense.
And as for me? Well, I’ve been doing my job the way I always have—thinking on my feet, solving problems, and trusting my instincts. The difference now is, I have a little smirk every time I think about it. After all, I was just following orders.