Jakarta, 2025. The sprawling metropolis, with its endless web of roads and towering skyscrapers, is teetering on the edge of a digital revolution. But deep within the Nusantara Water Utility Group’s headquarters — an imposing building of glass and steel — the mood is anything but futuristic. The room hums with tension as senior executives gather for yet another meeting that promises more arguments than solutions.
This conglomerate, which oversees 25 regional water companies supplying clean water across the country, from the hilly terrains of Pandeglang in Banten to the riverlands of Riau in Sumatra, has a simple but monumental goal: to transform itself into a modern, data-driven enterprise. Yet, change is hard. Harder still when it’s met with opposition from within, where the most dangerous form of sabotage isn’t technical but psychological — where people, not machines, are the targets.
The primary antagonist in this silent war? The group’s Chief Financial Officer, Pak Heru — a man who wields power not just through budgets, but through the subtle art of demotivation. His weapons aren’t faulty firmware or corrupted servers, but neglect, abandonment, and quiet, insidious disrespect. People are demoralized, projects stall, and, one by one, the brightest minds lose their fire. And Pak Heru, watching it all from his high-backed leather chair, leans back with the satisfaction of a general watching his enemy lose morale on the battlefield.
At the center of it all is Arif, the newly appointed Chief Digital Officer. A visionary who sees a future where water utility isn’t just about pipes and pumps, but about real-time data, predictive maintenance, and smart solutions. For him, this transformation is more than a job — it’s a mission to turn a lumbering giant into a nimble, customer-centric organization that delivers more than just water: it delivers trust.
But every time he pushes a new initiative, Heru pushes back. Not by outright rejection — no, that would be too obvious. Instead, Heru approves Arif’s budgets just enough to get started, but never enough to finish. He assigns the best minds to “urgent” unrelated tasks, then feigns surprise when Arif’s projects miss deadlines. Meetings are called and canceled without warning, key stakeholders are excluded, and team leaders are left twisting in the wind, uncertain of their roles and purpose.
It’s the classic game of bureaucracy: drown them in ambiguity until they lose hope. Until even the most passionate employees begin to murmur words of resignation.
“What’s the point?” whispers Adi, one of the lead engineers, as he stares at yet another email postponing his project review meeting. “They say digital transformation, but nothing ever changes.”
Arif hears the complaints, the weary sighs of talented people who used to work late into the night, fueled by the belief that they were building something meaningful. Now, they shuffle in and out of the office, their faces hollowed by disillusionment.
“Pak Arif,” Budi, his deputy, murmurs one afternoon, “it’s like they’re… drifting away. Even the new hires — we onboard them, get them excited, and then they spend weeks doing nothing. Heru’s people keep sending them on pointless errands or holding back approvals. The teams are losing focus, losing — ”
“Losing faith,” Arif finishes quietly, staring out of his office window at the Jakarta skyline. “That’s exactly what Heru wants.”
“Can’t we do something?” Budi presses, his voice low and urgent. “Talk to Rizal? Bring this out into the open?”
But Arif shakes his head. “If we go to the CEO without results, it’ll just look like we’re making excuses. No, we have to show that our approach works. We need a small win — something concrete to prove that this transformation is more than just talk.”
“But how?” Budi’s shoulders slump in defeat. “We barely have anyone left who believes in this project.”
Arif falls silent, deep in thought. Then, slowly, a smile tugs at his lips. “We do have one. Rini.”
“The Unseen Saboteur”
Rini, the CEO of Riau Water, isn’t just a manager — she’s a force of nature. Tough, outspoken, and fiercely protective of her people, she’s long been a thorn in Heru’s side. She’s fought against his relentless cost-cutting measures, refusing to compromise on quality and safety for the sake of a few extra percentage points on a balance sheet.
But even Rini is struggling. Her team is demoralized, her field engineers are quitting, and customer complaints are rising. Heru’s influence is subtle but pervasive, spreading whispers that the transformation is just a ploy to justify layoffs and budget cuts.
When Arif calls her to propose using Riau as the first real showcase for his digital strategy, she laughs — a short, bitter sound.
“You want to turn my region into a case study?” she asks dryly. “Good luck. I can’t even get my own technicians to show up on time. They’re convinced that this ‘digital transformation’ is just a nice way of saying they’re going to be replaced by algorithms.”
“That’s exactly why we need to start there,” Arif insists. “We need to show them — and everyone else — that the purpose of this change isn’t to replace them, but to empower them.”
“Empower them?” Rini snorts. “Try telling that to the guy who’s been fixing the same broken pipe for three months because his supervisor’s requests keep getting ‘lost’ in the system. Or to the billing staff who are treated like robots and ignored until they make a mistake. If you want to make this work, you’ll have to rebuild more than just systems, Pak Arif. You’ll have to rebuild trust.”
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Arif replies, his voice steady. “We’ll start small, rebuild trust one step at a time. But I need you on board, Rini.”
For a long moment, there’s silence. Then, finally, she sighs. “Alright. I’m in. But don’t expect miracles. My people are tired. And if Heru hears about this — ”
“He won’t,” Arif interrupts. “We’ll keep this under the radar until we have results. Once we show them what’s possible, even Heru won’t be able to stop us.”
Rini laughs softly. “Under the radar, huh? You know, I always did like a good underdog story. Fine. Let’s do it. But if you screw this up…”
“I won’t,” Arif promises quietly. “I can’t afford to.”
“Reigniting the Spark”
The next few weeks are a blur of late-night planning sessions, secret meetings, and whispered conversations. Arif and Rini start small — very small. Instead of flashy new tech rollouts or grand strategic announcements, they focus on the basics: listening to people, solving their immediate pain points, and restoring a sense of purpose.
When a frustrated technician vents about broken communication channels, Rini personally escorts him to the office of the regional operations head and sits with him until the issue is resolved. When billing staff complain about being overwhelmed by repetitive tasks, Arif introduces a simple automation tool — not as a replacement, but as a way to give them time for more meaningful work.
Slowly, word spreads. People who had been on the verge of quitting start to reengage. Supervisors who had been ignoring their teams begin to listen. Meetings that once ended in arguments now conclude with solutions.
And as morale begins to shift, so does productivity. The water pressure in critical zones stabilizes. Customer complaints drop. And most importantly, the team in Riau starts to believe again.
“Turning the Tide”
The breakthrough comes one rainy afternoon, when the senior engineers in Riau — grizzled veterans who have seen every kind of mismanagement and neglect — approach Rini with an idea for optimizing the pipeline network. It’s a small, technical tweak, but it could save millions of liters of water a year.
“Why tell me now?” Rini asks, her voice cautious. “You’ve had this idea for months. Why didn’t you bring it up earlier?”
One of the engineers, a tall, silent man named Agus, shrugs uncomfortably. “Didn’t think it would matter. But… things feel different now. Feels like maybe… someone’s listening.”
Rini blinks, taken aback. Then, slowly, she smiles. “They are. And if this works, we’re going to make damn sure everyone knows it.”
Because this time, it’s not about the technology. It’s about people. And for the first time in years, the people of Nusantara Water are starting to believe again.
“The First Victory”
The news spreads like wildfire.
“Riau reduces water loss by 20% in two months!” the internal newsletter proclaims, the headline accompanied by a photo of a smiling team of engineers in front of a restored pipeline, thumbs up and eyes bright with pride. For a company that has been battered by years of inefficiency, bureaucratic stagnation, and low morale, the sudden turnaround in Riau feels almost surreal.
And in the glass-walled boardroom of Nusantara Water’s Jakarta headquarters, the reaction is one of wary curiosity.
“How did you manage this?” Pak Rizal, the CEO, asks as he flips through the report. “Every other pilot project has been a disaster, but somehow, in Riau, we’re seeing real, tangible results.”
Arif stands at the front of the room, his expression calm but determined. Beside him, Rini nods slightly, her posture straight and proud.
“We didn’t focus on technology,” Arif replies simply. “We focused on people.”
The room murmurs in confusion. Pak Junaidi, the CFO of Banten Water, narrows his eyes. “What does that even mean? You’re saying it’s not the systems, not the analytics, not the predictive tools… it’s just, what, people smiling at each other?”
“Not quite,” Arif says, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “It’s about engagement. You see, for years, our technicians and staff have been treated like cogs in a machine. They were given instructions, told what to do, and then left to fend for themselves. No feedback, no respect, no recognition. Heru’s cuts didn’t just reduce budgets — they drained morale.”
“And you think a few kind words fixed all that?” Pak Bayu scoffs.
“No,” Rini interjects, her voice firm. “We did more than just talk. We listened. We sat down with our people, asked them what was holding them back, and then acted on their feedback. When they said a process was broken, we didn’t just issue memos — we worked with them to fix it. When they felt overwhelmed, we found ways to lighten the load. When they felt ignored, we made sure their ideas were heard and implemented.”
“It was slow, frustrating, and at times, it felt like we were doing everything but what we were ‘supposed’ to be doing,” Arif adds. “But once people realized we were serious — once they saw their suggestions turn into real change — their attitudes shifted. They went from passive compliance to active problem-solving.”
“And that’s when the technical solutions came in,” Rini finishes. “The IoT sensors, the data dashboards — they only made a difference because people wanted them to work. They started using the tools because they saw them as helpful, not as threats.”
The room falls silent. It’s a simple idea, almost too simple. And yet, the results are undeniable.
“So you’re saying,” Pak Rizal murmurs, his gaze sharp, “that this entire transformation hinges on… what? Handholding?”
“Not handholding,” Arif corrects gently. “Trust. Respect. It’s about showing people that they matter, that their work has value. Once you do that, they’ll move mountains.”
“And if we roll this out to the rest of the group?” asks Bu Dian, the HR Director, her expression thoughtful.
“It won’t be easy,” Rini admits. “There will be resistance, and a lot of it. But if we can win over even a fraction of the teams, we’ll create a ripple effect. Change will spread. People will start talking, and when they see Riau succeeding, they’ll want a piece of that success.”
Pak Rizal nods slowly, tapping his fingers against the table. “Alright. You’ve made your case. I want a full plan for scaling this across the group.”
“Yes, sir,” Arif replies, his heart pounding. This is it — the breakthrough they’ve been working towards. The beginning of a true transformation.
But just as he turns to leave, a voice speaks up from the far end of the table.
“And what about Heru?”
“The Old Guard Strikes Back”
The question hangs in the air like a blade. Everyone turns to look at the speaker — Pak Yusuf, the senior legal counsel, his sharp eyes fixed on Arif.
“What about him?” Arif asks cautiously.
“You know what I mean,” Yusuf says quietly. “He’s not just going to disappear. Right now, he’s suspended pending investigation, but his influence hasn’t gone away. If he comes back, he’ll try to shut this down. He’ll have allies.”
Arif’s stomach churns. He knows Yusuf is right. Even now, in suspension, Heru’s shadow looms large. His people — the mid-level managers and department heads who owe their careers to him — are still out there, watching, waiting.
“We can’t let that happen,” Rini says fiercely. “We’ve come too far to let him tear it all down again.”
“But how?” Budi murmurs. “If Heru returns, he’ll have more ammunition than ever. He’ll say that this ‘people-first’ approach is inefficient, that it’s a waste of resources. He’ll paint us as reckless dreamers who don’t understand the realities of running a business.”
“Then we need more than just good stories,” Arif replies slowly, his mind racing. “We need hard data. Proof that our approach isn’t just ‘soft’ — it’s profitable.”
“You want to quantify morale?” Junaidi scoffs. “You’re dreaming, Arif.”
“Not just morale,” Arif says, warming to the idea. “Productivity, efficiency, retention — if we can show that people who are treated with respect and engagement deliver better results, we can shut Heru down before he even starts.”
“And if you can’t?” Yusuf presses.
Arif takes a deep breath. “Then Heru wins.”
The room is silent. Everyone understands the stakes now. This isn’t just a battle for control — it’s a war for the soul of the company. And if they lose, it’s not just the digital transformation that will crumble. It’s everything they’ve worked for.
“Then we’d better get started,” Rini says quietly. “Because if Heru’s coming back, we need to be ready.”
“The Data Race”
What follows is the most intense three months of Arif’s career. He and his team dive into a whirlwind of research, building a comprehensive case to prove the link between morale and productivity. They crunch numbers, interview staff, and gather testimonials. Every small victory — every reduction in customer complaints, every improvement in response times — is meticulously documented and analyzed.
And, slowly but surely, a picture begins to emerge.
The regions where the new approach has been implemented show a marked increase in efficiency. Technicians report higher job satisfaction, fewer errors, and faster problem resolution. Even customer satisfaction is up, with complaints dropping significantly in Riau and Pandeglang.
“It’s not just anecdotal,” Budi exclaims one afternoon, his face flushed with excitement. “We have real, measurable improvements. If we keep this up, we’ll have enough data to bury Heru’s arguments for good.”
But as the deadline approaches, word filters down that Heru is making moves behind the scenes. Quiet meetings, hushed conversations, and a flurry of emails. He’s rallying his allies, preparing his counterattack.
“He’s going to try to take control of the narrative,” Yusuf warns. “He’ll say that you’ve been manipulating the data, cherry-picking successes and ignoring the failures.”
“Then we need a trump card,” Rini murmurs. “Something he can’t refute.”
Arif nods slowly. “We need to show that this isn’t just working in Riau or Pandeglang — it’s working everywhere. We need a win in Jakarta.”
The room falls silent. Jakarta — Nusantara Water’s biggest and most chaotic region — is a hornet’s nest of bureaucracy, conflicting interests, and deeply entrenched resistance. If they can turn Jakarta around, it’ll be a miracle.
And if they fail…
“Then we’ll lose everything,” Rini finishes softly.
Arif looks around at his team, at the tired but determined faces that have fought alongside him for months. He straightens, his gaze hardening.
“Then let’s make a miracle,” he says quietly. “Because we’re out of time, and Heru isn’t going to wait.”
And so begins the final push — the race to turn Jakarta into the crown jewel of Nusantara Water’s digital transformation.
“Showdown in Jakarta”
The climax is a meeting unlike any other. All the executives, department heads, and regional managers are gathered in the gleaming auditorium of the Jakarta headquarters. At the front of the room, the stage is set: Arif on one side, his presentation gleaming with charts and graphs. And on the other, Heru, freshly reinstated, his expression icy and triumphant.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Heru begins, his voice smooth and confident, “we are here to determine the future of this company. Pak Arif has his theories, his feel-good stories about ‘engagement’ and ‘respect.’ But what I have are hard numbers — numbers that show just how much time and money has been wasted on this ill-conceived experiment.”
He clicks a button, and a series of charts appear on the screen — graphs showing budget overruns, missed targets, and exaggerated spending.
“Look at these costs,” Heru says, his smile razor-sharp. “And ask yourselves — can we really afford to keep this going?”
Arif steps forward, his heart pounding. “Costs are only part of the story, Pak Heru,” he says quietly. “What you’ve shown are short-term expenses. But what we’re building is long-term value.”
He clicks a button, and the room gasps. Because on the screen are the results from Jakarta — a city that has, against all odds, turned around in just a few short weeks. Customer satisfaction is up, leakages are down, and efficiency has improved dramatically.
“This,” Arif says, his voice ringing out across the room, “is what happens when you treat people like partners instead of pawns. This is what happens when you invest in people, not just technology.”
For a moment, Heru stares at the screen, his mouth working soundlessly. Then, slowly, the room erupts into applause.
The tide has turned. And this time, there’s no going back.
“A New Dawn”
Six months later, Nusantara Water is almost unrecognizable. The digital transformation has been rolled out across the group, and the results are staggering. Morale is high, efficiency is up, and the company is finally living up to its potential.
And at the heart of it all, Arif and his team continue to push forward, driving change and innovation, one small victory at a time.
Because they know now — more than ever — that true transformation doesn’t start with technology.
It starts with people.