I'm Your CSR

 By: Kelly McDonald

“We rise by lifting others.”

—Robert G. Ingersoll (1833-1899)

My wife, Beverly, worked as a medical receptionist at the Student Health Center on the BYU campus, during the latter part of my career in information technology at the university. She confidently employed a desktop computer to schedule appointments, check-in patients, then track them through their visit with the doctors. But sometimes there was a problem with her computer which she couldn’t solve on her own. For example, the computer application which performed her patient check-in was often updated to a new version, and sometimes it would stop working. When this happened, she called the phone number written on a sticky note, attached to the top of her computer. A person showed up to repair the problem plaguing her. She became very adept at using technical tools to support her work, but she always knew that if she didn’t know how to tackle a computer problem, there was a person she could call who would help her with her dilemma.

Computer support at BYU didn’t always follow this optimistic view. During the decades of the 1980s and 90s, I purchased personal computers and networking equipment, learned how to apply these technologies to campus problems, then installed them in offices and laboratories throughout the university. However, the complexity of this new equipment obscured the clear vision of its future. Faculty and staff needed help to apply these new technologies to their own work. My phone calls increased, so I hired student employees to assist me. But my little staff of several dozen wasn’t enough to support the entire campus community.

So we created the Computing Support Representative, or CSR Program, to provide timely technical help to faculty and staff when they needed it. Rather than calling a central support group on campus, university employees contacted a designated individual within their own department to help them secure the computer support they needed. Usually, these CSRs were existing departmental employees who had already shown a knack for grasping the complexity of personal computing. For example, if a faculty member acquired a new version of Microsoft Excel, their CSR could help them insert the installation disk and walk them through the documented process for update. 

A few CSRs were department secretaries or administrative assistants, devoid of technical training, simply sharing with their fellow employees their own experiences of learning word processing, email, or spreadsheet software. Their CSR role was exuding optimism. If something seemed technically wrong, these CSRs knew to call us. But if the need was simply pointers on how to proceed or encouragement to those who were reluctant, these CSRs encouraged their co-workers to try out new things. “I’ve been there before”, was the catchphrase which described a CSR’s most valuable skill.

After her retirement, Beverly continued her use of technology tools like a personal computer, tablet, and smartphone, to support her many interests, search the Internet for the best deals, access e-books to streamline her daily reading, stay in touch with family, and satisfy her ongoing needs to remain connected in her modern lifestyle.

However, as with any technology, her equipment eventually failed or needed tweaking or restarting. On an especially frustrating morning, our printer didn’t work, the Wi-Fi was intermittent, and a new version of a vendor’s software wasn’t operating as expected. Dealing with one technology issue after another, she finally exclaimed in frustration, “Who’s my CSR?” Luckily, within earshot, I rose to the occasion and began to troubleshoot her problem with the printer.

Perhaps, unknowingly, when we created the CSR program at BYU, we leveraged the encouragement principle of human relationships with our faculty and staff, that stretched far beyond the technical support of personal computing. Perhaps, the term ‘CSR’ grew to more than just computing support. Perhaps, it also referred to the ‘change support’ or ‘courage sustaining’ activity which one person provided for another. Thirty-five years later, the CSR program still effectively supports the technology concerns of the faculty and staff at BYU.

The reality of failing technology eventually faces all of us, whether it's the information technology I’m most familiar with, or the other varieties we acquire. Our automobiles eventually refuse to start. One day the furnace won’t turn on when we’re cold. That nagging leak in the bathroom sink now seems to be a steady drizzle.

Whenever we face the challenges of technical troubles—questions to which we have no ready answers—concerns with how to move forward with a bristling situation, it is comforting to know there are others whom we can call upon and trust, who have navigated these trails before.

So,  when Beverly expresses concerns over her information technologies—the growing challenges of the failures in our aging home—our declining septuagenarian health, I can confidently express to her, “I’m your CSR.”