You’re a Revenue Manager, a title that implies vision, foresight, and high-level strategy. But as you toggle between three different browser tabs, a clunky PMS export, and an Excel sheet that’s starting to lag because it’s carrying three years of daily data, you don’t feel like a strategist. You feel like a data janitor.
But here’s the thing: you love this spreadsheet. This isn't just a file; it’s your masterpiece. You’ve built it cell by cell over the years. You’re proud of the complex nested IF statements and the "Import" macros that you spent weeks perfecting. It’s half-automated, a digital extension of your own brain. When you click that macro button and the data flows into your pivot tables, you feel a surge of control. Sure, it’s clunky, and yes, it crashes if you breathe on it too hard, but it’s yours. You don’t know of any better tools, and frankly, the thought of retiring it terrifies you. If you lose the spreadsheet, don’t you lose your control over the numbers?
Then comes the email from your GM: "Great job on the room pick-up report. For Friday’s meeting, can we see a full breakdown of TRevPAR? We really need to start pushing Total Revenue Management—F&B capture, spa utilization, the works. Let's get proactive!"
The pride in your chest hits a wall of exhaustion. Your "perfect" spreadsheet is already at its limit just handling room stays. Adding F&B, MICE, and ancillary data would mean building a whole new wing onto a house that’s already starting to lean. You want to be the person who optimizes the entire guest journey, but you’re already a slave to the cells you created.