When people imagine working in hotel PR, I think there’s a certain image that comes to mind.

Beautiful hotels. Photoshoots. Influencer stays. Media events. Networking. Campaigns. Maybe attending an event with a glass of something in your hand while pretending you’re not checking your phone every five minutes.

And yes, those things can be part of it.

But there is another side that rarely makes it onto Instagram.

Sometimes hotel PR means negotiating with models because there isn’t much production budget.

Sometimes it means ironing their clothes before a shoot.

Sometimes you’re running up and down a massive property coordinating different departments.

Sometimes you’re handling Meta Ads in between PR work.

And sometimes you’re sitting there manually melting wax for invitations and wondering how exactly your career led you to this moment.

During one chapter of my hospitality career in 2026, I experienced that side of PR and Marketing Communications.

I learned a lot.

I did a lot.

Probably too much sometimes.

And now that I’ve stepped away from that chapter, I can look back at everything with a little more distance.

Because while I’m proud of how hands-on I was, the experience also taught me something I’ve carried into the next stage of my career:

Being hands-on and being strategic are not always the same thing.

The Shoot Before the Wedding Showcase

May 2026 was probably one of the best examples of what my job could look like behind the scenes.

We had a wedding showcase coming up.

But before we could even get to the showcase itself, there was another production happening the day before.

We needed to shoot campaigns for our breakfast and Day Pass experiences.

Part of my responsibility was securing the models.

I managed to arrange two couples through barter collaborations, which meant we could produce the campaign while saving on talent costs.

And I was proud of that.

A barter collaboration isn’t simply messaging someone and asking:

“Hey, free photoshoot?”

You still need to find the right people, approach them, explain the collaboration, communicate the value they’re receiving, align schedules and expectations, and make sure everyone actually shows up when they’re supposed to.

Once the models were secured, there was still the production itself.

I helped prepare everything.

And I mean everything.

At one point, I was ironing the models’ outfits.

Then I was checking the locations.

Then coordinating with Operations.

Then supervising the shoot.

Then checking the next location while the current scene was still being photographed.

Because the property was spread across a large natural landscape, moving between shooting locations wasn’t as simple as taking an elevator to another floor.

Different elevations, stairs, pathways, and considerable distances separated parts of the property.

Everything still needed to happen in sequence.

The models needed to be ready.

The location needed to be ready.

Operations needed to know we were coming.

The photographer needed to know what we were shooting next.

And the timeline still needed to move.

So I moved with it.

That’s something people don’t necessarily see when they look at the finished campaign.

They see breakfast beautifully arranged on a table.

They see models enjoying the property.

They see a relaxing Day Pass experience.

They don’t see someone running ahead to check whether the next location is actually ready.

And once that shoot finished, there wasn’t exactly a long recovery period waiting for me.

Because the wedding showcase was next.

The Wedding Showcase

The wedding showcase came with another challenge.

Models.

This time, I was expected to secure five female models entirely through barter arrangements.

Five.

Then we needed one additional male model, and I was expected to negotiate the best possible rate.

And somehow…

I did it.

Actually, no.

Let me have my moment.

I DID IT.

Five female models through barter.

One male model at a negotiated rate.

Done.

I still feel proud when I think about that because securing talent with a limited budget requires much more than simply finding attractive people on Instagram.

You’re negotiating.

You’re communicating expectations.

You’re coordinating schedules.

You’re maintaining relationships.

You’re explaining deliverables.

You’re making sure everyone understands what they’re agreeing to.

And you’re trying to create enough value that someone is willing to participate without a traditional talent fee.

Then came the actual showcase.

Once the event started, I barely stopped moving.

The property was massive, and its natural eco-luxury setting meant moving between different areas could be physically challenging.

Up the stairs.

Down the stairs.

Across the property.

Back up again.

Check something.

Coordinate with someone.

Go somewhere else.

Come back.

Repeat.

There wasn’t much standing around looking polished at a wedding showcase.

I was constantly moving between different parts of the property, checking what needed to be checked and making sure things kept running.

And because everything was happening in real time, there wasn’t exactly a moment where I could say:

“Okay, I’m taking my break now.”

Something always needed attention.

So I kept moving.

Up.

Down.

Across.

Back again.

At some point, I stopped paying attention to the time altogether.

Then suddenly, it was 10:00 PM.

And I realized I hadn’t properly eaten.

My first meal of the day was at around 10 PM.

I remember finally sitting down and thinking about how ridiculous that sounded.

Then there was another small detail.

I needed to be back at the office at 9:00 AM the next morning.

No dramatic recovery day.

No “You worked until late, come in later tomorrow.”

Nine in the morning.

Back to work.

Hospitality.

Then There Was the 3 AM Alarm

And May wasn’t the only time a production pushed the limits of what I thought working in PR would look like.

There was another hotel photoshoot with a 5:00 AM call time.

At the time, I lived roughly an hour away from the property.

I needed around another hour to shower, get ready, prepare everything, and make sure I wasn’t forgetting something important at three in the morning.

So my alarm went off at:

3:00 AM.

Get ready.

Get on the motorbike.

Ride for around an hour.

Arrive at the property.

Start shooting at 5:00.

Except, once again, the work hadn’t actually started at five.

Before anyone picked up a camera, I’d already been involved in preparing the moodboard, arranging the shooting timeline, securing and coordinating barter models, planning the locations, and making sure the production could actually happen.

Then came shoot day.

I supervised the production.

I coordinated the movements.

I checked back-to-back locations.

I communicated with Operations.

While one scene was happening, part of my brain was already thinking about the next one.

Is the location ready?

Are the models ready?

Can we move there now?

Will there be guests?

Does Operations know?

Are we still on schedule?

The shoot went on for almost the entire day.

Eventually, at around 4:00 PM, I had lunch.

I’d been awake since three.

My first proper break came more than twelve hours later.

And after the shoot, I wasn’t allowed to simply go home early because I’d started my day before sunrise.

I still remember being told:

“Jangan cengeng.”

Don’t be whiny. For asking if I could go home early.

So I stayed.

Looking back, that sentence probably captures the working culture around exhaustion better than any paragraph I could write about it.

The Job Kept Expanding

The intense productions were memorable because they happened in concentrated bursts.

But outside those days, my responsibilities were already broad.

There was PR.

Media relations.

Influencer collaborations.

Campaigns.

Talent sourcing.

Photoshoots.

Events.

Then there was performance marketing.

I handled Meta Ads.

I handled Google Ads.

When our graphic designer resigned, I stepped into graphic design too.

Again, I could do it.

And I think that’s both the advantage and danger of becoming known as someone who can figure things out.

People discover you can do something.

So you do it.

Then they discover you can do something else.

So you do that too.

Eventually, your job description starts looking less like a job description and more like a collection of whatever currently needs to happen.

Being multidisciplinary has absolutely helped my career.

Understanding PR, content, advertising, design, partnerships, production, guest experience, and operations allows me to see Marketing from multiple perspectives.

I wouldn’t trade that knowledge.

But I’ve also learned that being capable of doing many things doesn’t necessarily mean one person should be responsible for all of them at once.

Designing the Guest Journey

One responsibility I genuinely enjoyed was developing guest-experience and guest-journey touchpoints.

Because hospitality marketing doesn’t end when someone makes a reservation.

The brand continues when the guest arrives.

How are they welcomed?

What happens next?

What do they notice?

Where could we create something memorable?

Does the physical experience actually match what Marketing promised online?

Those questions couldn’t be answered entirely from my desk.

So I walked.

A lot.

I went around the property, spoke with different operational teams, checked locations, understood how different parts of the guest journey worked, and tried to connect those experiences.

And again, there were deadlines.

Sometimes very short ones.

That experience reinforced something I still believe strongly:

Hospitality Marketing cannot exist separately from Operations.

Marketing can promise whatever it wants.

Operations is where that promise becomes real.

A beautiful campaign might convince someone to visit once.

Their actual experience determines what they remember afterward.

The 1,000 Invitations Thing

Then we need to talk about another event.

And the invitations.

One thousand of them.

I coordinated with the vendor to have 1,000 invitations printed.

Normal enough.

Except printing them wasn’t the end.

Each invitation came with a voucher validity that needed to be stamped.

Manually.

So I stamped them.

Then the invitations needed to be rolled.

So I rolled them.

Then each one needed to be tied using rope made from banana stems.

So I tied them.

Then came the wax seals.

Melt the wax.

Pour it.

Stamp it.

Wait.

Next invitation.

Melt.

Pour.

Stamp.

Repeat.

Again.

And again.

And again.

Somewhere between managing PR, coordinating campaigns, handling advertising, working on guest experience, helping with graphic design, and preparing events, I was manually melting wax for those invitations.

Was it glamorous?

No.

Was it strategic?

Also no.

Did I do it anyway?

Obviously.

And that’s probably one of the clearest examples of what this experience eventually taught me.

“Hands-On” Can Be a Compliment Until It Isn’t

I’ve always considered being hands-on a positive thing.

I still do.

I don’t want to become someone who reaches a management position and suddenly believes basic tasks are beneath them.

If we’re shooting and someone’s shirt desperately needs ironing, give me the iron.

If the team is overwhelmed and I can clear a table, I’ll clear it.

If something goes wrong during an event and I can help solve it, I’m not going to stand there pointing at my job title.

That’s teamwork.

But being willing to help and being expected to absorb everything are two very different things.

At some point, I started questioning where resourcefulness ended and poor resource allocation began.

Because time has value too.

If someone responsible for PR, campaigns, advertising, partnerships, guest experience, and marketing coordination spends hours manually assembling a lot of invitations, those hours have gone somewhere.

They weren’t spent building relationships.

They weren’t spent improving campaigns.

They weren’t spent optimizing advertising.

They weren’t spent developing partnerships.

They weren’t spent thinking.

And thinking is work too.

That’s something I understand much better now.

Busy Doesn’t Always Mean Effective

There was a period in my career when I probably would have looked at everything I just described and thought:

Look how much I can handle.

And I am proud that I handled it.

I really am.

I found solutions.

I negotiated.

I saved production costs.

I coordinated difficult shoots.

I learned quickly.

I stepped outside my job description when necessary.

I made things happen.

Those are strengths I don’t want to lose.

But my definition of a strong employee has changed.

Working until 10 PM without eating isn’t something I want to celebrate.

Waking up at 3 AM doesn’t automatically make someone dedicated.

Being able to carry ten responsibilities simultaneously doesn’t mean an organization should give them eleven.

And exhaustion isn’t evidence of productivity.

Sometimes it simply means the system needs improvement.

What I Took With Me

Despite everything, that role taught me an enormous amount.

I learned negotiation because sometimes there wasn’t much budget.

I learned relationship-building because barter collaborations don’t happen without trust and mutual value.

I learned production because someone needed to understand what happened before, during, and after the camera started rolling.

I learned vendor management.

I learned advertising.

I learned more about design.

I learned how deeply Marketing depends on Operations.

I learned how to translate a brand promise into guest touchpoints.

I learned how to improvise when the original plan stopped working.

And I learned that one of my biggest strengths is resourcefulness.

Give me a problem and my instinct is still:

Okay. How can we make this work?

I’m proud of that version of myself.

I just don’t think he needed to prove it by doing absolutely everything.

Behind Every Polished Campaign

That’s probably what I want people to take away from this story.

Hospitality marketing is designed to look effortless.

The breakfast table looks perfect.

The couple looks relaxed.

The wedding showcase looks romantic.

The hotel looks peaceful.

The invitation arrives beautifully rolled with its little wax seal.

The guest sees the finished experience.

But behind all of that?

Someone negotiated with the model.

Someone ironed the clothes.

Someone checked the next location.

Someone ran down the stairs.

Then back up them.

Someone coordinated with Operations.

Someone hadn’t eaten.

Someone was checking Meta Ads.

Someone was fixing a graphic.

Someone was rolling an invitation.

Someone was melting wax.

Someone woke up at 3:00 AM.

The polished result is real.

So is the invisible work behind it.

Looking Back From Where I Am Now

I’ve moved into another chapter of my career since then.

And when I look back, I don’t want to reduce this experience to either “that job was terrible” or “look how hardworking I was.”

Neither tells the whole story.

There were things about the work I genuinely loved.

I loved building relationships.

I loved collaborations.

I loved seeing an idea become a campaign.

I loved being around hospitality.

I loved creating experiences.

And I still love making things happen.

What changed is how I think about how things should happen.

Being hands-on matters.

But so does delegation.

So does prioritization.

So does having the right resources.

So does respecting people’s time.

And so does recognizing that your most capable employee shouldn’t automatically become the solution to every problem.

That’s something I want to carry with me as I take on more responsibility in my career.

I want to understand execution because I’ve lived it.

I want to know what happens behind the campaign because I’ve been the person running between locations.

I want to understand Operations because I’ve worked alongside them.

I want to be willing to help when things get messy.

But I also want to know when to stop and ask:

Is this actually the best use of someone’s time?

Because being hands-on taught me how to make things happen.

Being stretched too thin taught me something else.

How I don’t want to lead.