There’s something nobody tells you about being a Production Manager.

Your phone becomes your enemy.

It doesn’t ring to greet you.

It rings to request.

“Production Manager, we need 20,000.”

Five minutes later

“Production Manager, we need 6,000.”

Before you breathe

“Production Manager, this is urgent.”

And you’re standing there thinking: urgent for who?

There were days I felt powerful.

Walking around set. Checking things. Watching everything move like a system.

There were days I felt invisible.

Like everything was happening around me but nobody saw the pressure sitting on my shoulders.

There were moments I was happy — especially when a scene came out clean. When the director nodded slightly at the monitor. When everyone relaxed after a successful take.

Those small victories felt loud inside me.

Then there were moments I was frustrated.

Not loud frustration.

The quiet one.

The one where you smile outside but inside you’re calculating money, time, people, expectations.

Sometimes I felt like giving up.

Not because the work was too much.

But because the responsibility was heavy.

When money is involved, everything feels heavier.

When people say, “Production Manager, we need…” they are not just asking for cash.

They are asking for solution.

And sometimes I wanted to say, “I am also human.”

There were moments I felt like snapping. Like telling someone to relax. Like reacting.

But I didn’t.

That was the real lesson.

Balancing emotion.

Balancing pressure.

Balancing respect.

Balancing self-control.

Because production is not just about equipment and schedules.

It is about temperament.

It is about standing in the middle of requests, expectations, and personalities — and not breaking.

I learned that leadership is not always loud.

Sometimes it is silent endurance.

Sometimes it is swallowing anger.

Sometimes it is choosing maturity when your mind is tired.

That set did not just teach me about film.

It taught me about myself.

It showed me how quickly emotions can rise.

It showed me how discipline is stronger than impulse.

It shaped me.

Not in a dramatic movie way.

But in a real way.

Now when I hear pressure, I don’t panic the same way.

Because I remember that set.

I remember the calls.

I remember the requests.

I remember the weight.

And I remember that I handled it.

That is the story.

Not of chaos.

But of control.