It's a hot summer day in Texas, 2006, and I'm in a dark green collared shirt, khaki shorts and a visor (the uniform for my first hospitality job, at the Poolside Grille at my local country club). It was that or the petrol station. I made the right choice. The days are hot chips, cold ice creams, and leftover salads for tomorrow's lunch. A perk of the job.

Now I'm at university, working at another country club, and I've learned the pace and personality of hospo. I'm wiping down a table when it hits me... this is what I want to do.

I apply for a Master's to add the art of sociology to the science of hospitality.

It's 2010 and I'm in an elevator with a professor who asks if I want a job. Um, yes. Absolutely! Next thing I know I'm the new intern at the Sheraton Houston Brookhollow, making awkward cold calls and building business development plans at my very first hotel.

I'm hooked.

From hotels to hotel-tech. Now I'm sitting across from a motel owner in Austin who's certain the OTAs are his problem, and I'm about to show him it's his room types. Big data into small, useful actions.

Then Texas to New Zealand. Five weeks after I land, the country closes. I'm leading a team through an industry that's stopped, over a screen, in a place I've barely seen yet. We spend four years putting it back together. Domestic first, then the borders open, and my team is helping properties attract travellers who've waited years to come.

These days I work with commercial leaders in hotels and venues on where their revenue comes from and what to do about it. It's almost always sitting in their own numbers already. The work is getting from knowing it to deciding what it means, getting it heard, and keeping it going.

Caring about the numbers is caring about people. It's the biggest, smallest industry in the world, and I've happily called it mine for 20 years.

When I'm not working you'll find me heading for the nearest mountain or beach, with an Australian Shiraz, my husband and two hilarious kids.