Everyone’s a Director in Indonesia... And That’s Why No One Actually Is
Congratulations! You’re 29 and already a “Director.” You’ve made it. Your parents beam with pride. Your high school classmates “react” with jealous emojis on LinkedIn. Your job title has a comma in it — surely that means you’ve made an impact, right? You manage a team of three (two of whom are interns, one of whom is just you with a second email account). You sign off on invoices smaller than your Gojek top-up, and your most strategic contribution in last week’s planning meeting was nodding thoughtfully while someone else spoke.
But let’s be honest: you didn’t climb the corporate ladder — you were handed a plastic one from ACE Hardware, spray-painted in gold, and told to smile for the company profile. The ladder doesn’t go anywhere, because it was never bolted to anything meaningful in the first place.
In Indonesia, title inflation isn’t a symptom — it’s the strategy. The job market has agreed that “Director” sounds sexier than “Mid-Level Doer Who’s Still Learning.” So now, prestige is the currency, and performance is the footnote. We’ve rebranded “growing pains” into “executive leadership.”
It’s all very adorable… until you realize there’s nowhere left to go — except sideways.
The Director Delusion: How 28 Became the New 48
Let’s set the record straight: Indonesia may not yet be an economic superpower, but when it comes to Directors per square meter, we’re world-class. If “Director” status contributed to GDP, we’d be giving Germany a run for its money. You can’t throw a reusable tumbler in a Jakarta café without hitting someone who manages “regional strategy” for a team of two people and a very confused intern.
At this point, the title “Director” has become so diluted, it might as well be printed on Starbucks sleeves. You’ve got “Growth Directors” whose version of scale is increasing Instagram followers, “Finance Directors” who still use Excel templates from 2014, and “Product Directors” who have never seen a roadmap — but are very good at talking in slides.
And the startups aren’t alone in this theater. Over in the family conglomerates, you’ll find a 31-year-old “Director of Global Affairs” whose passport has fewer stamps than a suburban mall loyalty card. His job? Mostly attending lunches and printing his own business cards with increasingly narrow fonts to fit the full title.
But here’s the thing: we’re not promoting people for leadership anymore — we’re promoting them so they won’t leave. Titles are now a substitute for raises, mentorship, or any kind of meaningful development. “Just call her Director lah,” whispers the HRBP, already preparing her resignation letter before she has to report to the newly-appointed 27-year-old “Chief People Officer” who once did a group project on organizational psychology in uni.
This isn’t a talent strategy. It’s a slow, quiet comedy that no one’s laughing at — because everyone’s too busy updating their LinkedIn banners.
The Corporate Tinder Effect: Swipe Right on Ego, Left on Experience
Let’s not kid ourselves — title inflation didn’t just “happen.” This isn’t some organic quirk of the job market. It’s a perfectly calibrated illusion, maintained by an entire ecosystem of willing participants. Everyone plays their part.
Startups are the ringleaders — offering grandiose titles in place of salaries. “We can’t give you stock options, but how about we make you VP of Growth and Global Thinking?” Translation: “You’ll be running email campaigns in your pajamas.”
Recruiters aren’t innocent either. They know a glorified team lead is being sold as a “Director,” but a closed offer is a closed offer. Meanwhile, candidates lap it up, desperate for another hit of dopamine before the looming crash of their early-30s identity crisis.
VCs? Silent co-conspirators. Because nothing makes a pitch deck sparkle quite like a Gen Z C-suite that looks like they were handpicked from a Uniqlo ad. Who cares if no one’s led a real team before? They photograph well and use words like “synergy” and “scale.”
It’s all very swipe-right. Everyone oversells. Everyone secretly hopes no one asks follow-up questions. And everyone’s haunted by the creeping fear that if they don’t upgrade their title every 12 months, they’ll fall behind in the Millennial Hunger Games of Relevance.
So now, professional growth is no longer about competence — it’s about keeping up appearances. We’ve replaced real progression with a performance. And the scary part? Most people don’t even realize they’re acting.
Macro Madness: How Title Inflation is Quietly Undermining the Future
Let’s take a step back and really zoom out — not in the motivational, TED Talk way. More like the “what have we done?” kind of zoom out.
Because what we’re witnessing isn’t just a quirky workplace trend. It’s an economy-wide experiment in skipping the developmental stages of leadership.
We’ve minted a whole generation of “leaders” who never simmered in the awkward, essential middle years. They never had to manage people twice their age, deal with actual business politics, or explain a budget to someone who isn’t already on their Instagram close friends list. Their toughest financial challenge? Splitting a Grab ride across three departments.
So when these companies scale — when the spreadsheets get real, when stakeholders start asking questions, when regulators get involved — they choke. Not because they’re not smart, but because they were handed the keys to the car before they even knew what a clutch was. But they’ve got “Head of” in their title and a lanyard to prove it.
We’re not just failing individuals here. We’re sabotaging entire pipelines of future leadership. Once you’ve been a “Director” at 28, what next? “Supreme Commander of Strategy” at 32? There’s nowhere to go but sideways, or — heaven forbid — down.
And when they finally do land at a multinational? They’re rebranded as “Team Lead,” handed a smaller scope, and sent to training modules with fresh grads. Enter the imposter syndrome spiral.
The other path? Just keep bouncing — startup to startup, title to title, like a one-person corporate fashion show. New badge, same chaos.
As for leadership development? That’s squeezed between “Emotional Intelligence 101” and “Intro to ChatGPT” on a Udemy playlist they never finished.
Career at 30, Crisis at 35: The Personal Cost of Getting Everything Too Fast
Let’s get personal — and a little uncomfortable.
Because title inflation doesn’t just warp companies. It breaks people in slow motion, one LinkedIn announcement at a time. You peaked at 31. You had the word “Director” in your email signature, your own corporate mug, and maybe even a headshot taken with a DSLR. You were a panelist once. On a webinar. Sponsored by a fintech that no longer exists. Prestige.
But now it’s 35. The dread starts seeping in. You're not sure what you actually do anymore. You’re overqualified on paper, but wildly under-equipped for the kind of strategic work that real leadership demands. The meetings feel heavier. The expectations are vague but intimidating. You nod a lot and hope no one asks you to present a “framework.”
You’re too “senior” for most practical roles, but not quite qualified for the ones that involve, you know… accountability. You’ve built a persona that’s now too risky to dismantle. The mask must stay on.
And god forbid you take a step back. No one wants to see a former “VP of Strategy” applying for a “Manager” role — that’s not a pivot, that’s a career obituary. So you float. Trapped between the fear of being found out and the fear of starting over.
Burnout doesn’t hit like a brick wall. It’s the slow erosion of confidence while pretending everything’s fine. It’s smiling through performance reviews that feel like improv. It’s watching fresh-faced “Directors” 10 years younger making the same mistakes — and realizing the cycle is the only thing actually scaling.
You didn’t build a career. You built a façade. And now, it’s expensive to maintain.
Let’s face it: we’ve cheapened leadership like it’s on Tokopedia flash sale. Not out of cruelty, but out of collective professional insecurity. Somewhere along the way, we decided it was more important to look mature as a workforce than to actually be one. So we handed out titles like candy, dressed the interns in blazers, and called it succession planning.
But leadership isn’t cosplay. It’s not about printing “VP” on your business card or learning how to nod meaningfully in Zoom calls. It’s about becoming the person who can carry the weight that comes with real responsibility.
So let’s do something radical. Let’s stop giving people promotions as consolation prizes. Let’s build actual, sometimes painful, always necessary journeys toward leadership — the kind that involves sweat, mistakes, feedback, and, occasionally, PowerPoint decks that flop.
Let’s stop gaslighting 27-year-olds into thinking they’re behind if they’re not already “Head of Strategy.” They’re not behind — they’re just not skipping.
Indonesia doesn’t need more undercooked “Chiefs” peaking before they pay off their student loans. It needs grown-ups. Leaders still curious at 40, still humble at 45.
And that starts with one hard truth: maybe the ladder’s a lie. But the climb? That can still be real.