A Hotel Through an Engineer’s Eyes
Ivan Pulukchu

© Ivan Pulukchu, 2026

ISBN 978-5-0070-8055-2

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

A Hotel Through an Engineer’s Eyes

«The Invisible People of Comfort»

«An ordinary person checks into a hotel.

An engineer begins to diagnose it.»

CHAPTER 1
A Hotel Is a Living Organism

Most people think of a hotel as a beautiful building with comfortable beds, soft lighting, and polite staff. For a guest, everything looks simple: he arrives, gets his room key, takes a hot shower, adjusts the air conditioner, and lies down to sleep in peace.

But an engineer sees an entirely different picture.

To him, a hotel is not walls, furniture, and decor, but a huge living organism that has no right to stop, even for a minute. An organism in which hundreds of systems must work in sync twenty-four hours a day. And if even one of them fails, the consequences will be felt by the guests, the staff, and the whole hotel at once.

A guest rarely thinks about what happens behind the doors of the technical rooms. He doesn’t think about the pumps currently pushing hot water through the floors, doesn’t picture how much air passes through the ventilation units every minute, doesn’t know that somewhere deep in the technical basement heat exchangers are running, or that chillers are humming on the roof, keeping the rooms cool.

But that is exactly where the real life of the hotel is.

Sometimes the engineering department resembles the cardiology unit of an enormous organism: somewhere pressure has to be maintained, somewhere temperature has to be controlled, somewhere an alarm signal demands an urgent response. And just as in the human body, most of these processes are meant to go unnoticed.

If a person hears their own heartbeat, there is probably already a problem. It’s exactly the same with a hotel.

A good hotel is a place where the guest never notices the engineering systems. The air is simply comfortable. The water is simply hot. The light simply comes on. The elevator simply arrives. And only the engineer understands how many processes stand behind that word «simply.»

This is felt especially sharply at night. When the lobby empties, the restaurant closes, and the corridors fall quiet, the hotel doesn’t go to sleep at all. On the contrary — it’s at night that the engineering life becomes especially noticeable.

This is when the routine maintenance work begins: somewhere pumps are being switched over, somewhere the automation is being checked. Technicians walk the floors, listen to the equipment, check temperature, pressure, the state of the systems. Because an engineer knows that most serious breakdowns never begin loudly.

First a small thing appears. A slightly changed ventilation noise. A faint pump vibration. An unusual return-line temperature. A faint smell of dampness in the corridor. Water draining slowly from a floor trap.

To an ordinary person, this means nothing. To an engineer, these are the first symptoms of the organism’s illness.

An experienced hotel engineer begins to «hear» the hotel almost intuitively. He can sense something is wrong before the building management system even shows an error. Sometimes it’s enough to walk down a floor to feel it: the ventilation is behaving differently, the water in the riser has started acting unstable, an overload is building up somewhere in the equipment.

This doesn’t come right away. Over the years, an engineer stops merely servicing the systems — he begins to feel their behavior.

That is exactly why good engineers rarely like the phrase:

«If it’s working, don’t touch it.»

Because in hotel operations, it’s the opposite: if you don’t check a system in advance, it will absolutely remind you of itself at the worst possible moment. And, as a rule, that moment arrives when the hotel is fully booked, on a holiday, at night, or an hour before an important event. It’s almost a law of hotel engineering.

In an ordinary apartment building, a fault can wait a few hours. In a hotel — it cannot. A hotel lives in a state of constant service readiness. You can’t tell a guest here:

«There won’t be hot water until Monday.»

You can’t shut down half the rooms «for later.» You can’t explain away the noise of an air conditioner by saying there wasn’t enough time. Any technical problem instantly becomes part of the guest experience.

That is exactly why the engineering department in a hotel exists in a special rhythm — a constant readiness for everything to be working, always. No weekends. No holidays. No right to say «it didn’t work out today.»

At the same time, most of the engineers’ work remains completely invisible. A guest will never see the pump replaced at night, the leak fixed at four in the morning, the emergency system switchover, the ventilation repaired before a group check-in, the overheated motor on the technical floor, the urgent search for the source of a smell in the corridor.

He will only see the result — either comfort, or a problem.

This is precisely the paradox of the profession.

The better an engineer works, the less people know about him.

This is probably exactly why hotel engineers gradually develop a particular relationship with buildings. Over time, they stop perceiving a hotel as an interior. They start seeing a system.

A beautiful lobby turns into a ventilation diagram. A quiet room becomes the result of correct balancing. A warm shower becomes the stable operation of a heating substation. Panoramic windows become an extra cooling load in summer.

The hotel starts to be read differently — as a living mechanism in which everything is interconnected. If the ventilation stops, the temperature changes. If the water pressure drops, complaints appear. If the automation fails, a chain reaction begins.

An engineer very quickly understands a simple thing: comfort is not a state, it’s a process. You can’t create it once and forget about it. It has to be maintained every single minute.

And perhaps this is exactly what distinguishes a hotel from most other buildings. Here everything works continuously. A hotel can’t «take a pause.» It always has to be ready to receive a new guest as though no problems had ever existed — even if, an hour ago, the engineering department was dealing with an emergency in the technical basement.

In this world there is no «stop» button. There are only people doing everything they can so that the enormous living organism called a «hotel» keeps working calmly, quietly, and invisibly.

Because real hotel comfort begins exactly where the engineering work stays invisible.

CHAPTER 2
The World Behind the Technical Doors

Every hotel has two completely different lives.

The first is the one the guest sees: a bright lobby, music, smiling staff, tidy rooms, the smell of coffee in the morning, perfectly clean corridors.

The second is hidden. It begins where an ordinary guest almost never goes: behind an unremarkable gray door marked «Staff Only.» That is where the hotel’s true inner world is located.

To most people, these doors look boring and uninteresting. But for an engineer, behind them lies an entire infrastructure without which the hotel’s beautiful facade would stop functioning within a matter of hours.

Sometimes it takes just a few steps from a guest corridor into the staff area to feel like you’ve entered another dimension. A moment ago there was soft light, carpet, and the smell of perfume — and beyond the door there’s the noise of ventilation, the hum of pumps, the smell of metal and heated air, service carts, cable runs, pipelines, control panels, people in work uniforms.

This is the true underside of a hotel. Engineers know that the most important processes in a hotel almost always happen where guests will never see anything.

Perhaps the atmosphere of the technical zones is best felt at night. During the day the staff corridors are full of personnel, but at night everything changes. The hotel grows quieter, and that’s when you can hear especially clearly how the engineering part of the building lives.

Somewhere deep in a technical room a pump runs steadily. On the roof a ventilation unit hums. In the server room the air stays cold at all times. In the elevator machine room there’s the characteristic drone of equipment.

Engineers even develop a professional habit of distinguishing these sounds. To an ordinary person it’s just background noise. To an engineer, it’s information. Sometimes a change in sound signals a problem before any sensor does: a bearing has started to sound slightly louder, an unfamiliar vibration has appeared, a pump’s rhythm has changed, a fan has taken on a «heavy» sound. An experienced engineer notices such things almost automatically.

That’s exactly why hotel engineering isn’t only manual work. It’s constant observation of the building’s behavior.

Technical rooms are rarely beautiful. They aren’t meant for photographs or to impress guests. But they have their own particular aesthetic: neatly labeled lines, pressure gauges, automation cabinets, pipelines of different colors, indicator lamps, control screens, system diagrams on the walls.

To an outsider, all of this might look chaotic. But an engineer sees order in it: every pipe leads somewhere, every cable is responsible for a specific system, every valve exists for a reason.

Over time, an engineer starts to navigate a hotel differently. A guest remembers the restaurant, the room, the pool, the view from the window. An engineer remembers the location of the panels, access to the risers, the emergency shutoffs, the technical routes, the risk zones, the weak points of the engineering. He develops his own map of the building in his head, completely unlike the guest’s.

Sometimes an engineer knows a hotel better than any manager. He remembers where the problem section of pipe runs, where clogs most often occur, which room complains first about the air conditioner in summer, where equipment keeps overheating, which elevator starts to «misbehave» during peak hours.

It’s precisely in the technical zones that you come to understand one important thing especially well: a hotel is never fully new. Even in a modern building, the engineering gradually wears out.

Guests see a renovated interior. But behind the ceilings there may be old utilities, temporary fixes, traces of past repairs, years of engineering compromises. Sometimes a hotel resembles an organism that has learned to live with its own chronic conditions.

Every old hotel has a character. Somewhere the water pressure constantly «wanders.» Somewhere the ventilation lives its own life. Somewhere the automation periodically throws false errors. And somewhere the engineering department already knows, just from the sound, what has happened again.

That’s exactly why engineers rarely trust the phrase «everything is under control» — in a hotel, too many processes are happening at once. This is especially true in large hotels. While guests sleep, have breakfast, go to a conference, or relax in the spa, continuous work goes on behind the technical doors. It’s an enormous, invisible life-support system.

Sometimes the engineering areas begin to resemble a separate city inside the hotel — with its own routes, its own rules, its own smells and sounds. There’s even a distinct sense of time: a guest lives by check-ins, breakfasts, excursions, and rest, while an engineer lives by rounds, work orders, breakdowns, preventive maintenance, and system switchovers. These are two completely different worlds existing at the same time in one building.

And perhaps the most interesting thing is that most guests never even think about how complex this hidden world is. They just turn on the tap — and water comes out. They press a button — and the elevator arrives. They adjust the temperature — and the room becomes comfortable. Everything seems natural.

But an engineer knows: behind every such simple action stands an enormous system that has to work perfectly every single second. And if even one part of that system fails, the boundary between the beautiful guest world and the harsh technical reality disappears very quickly.

That’s exactly why engineers treat what’s hidden behind the technical doors with such respect. Because that is where the real hotel begins.

CHAPTER 3
An Engineer’s Professional Deformation

A hotel engineer is rarely an ordinary guest.

Even on vacation, in another city or another country, he keeps doing what he can no longer help doing — automatically analyzing the surrounding space. It happens on its own.

An ordinary person, walking into a hotel, notices the interior, the smell of the lobby, the music, the view from the window, how comfortable the bed is. An engineer, at that same moment, has already managed to hear the ventilation noise, notice the elevator’s vibration, gauge the air temperature, look at the condition of the ceilings, spot an access hatch, and estimate the approximate age of a fan coil unit by its sound. And the funniest part is that most of the time he does this without even realizing it.

Over time, hotel engineering changes a person’s perception so much that a hotel stops being a place to relax. It turns into an object of diagnosis.

It usually starts with small things. For example, an engineer walks into a room and automatically checks whether the door is hung evenly, whether there are traces of past leaks near the ventilation grille, how quickly water drains from the sink, how the door closer works, whether the vent grille makes noise, whether the air conditioner’s temperature «wanders.»

Sometimes an engineer might not even remember the room number. But he will definitely remember the odd sound of the fan coil unit by the window.

Hotel engineers, in general, have a special relationship with sounds. For most guests, an air conditioner either works or it doesn’t. For an engineer, whistling, vibration, clicking, unstable airflow, bearing noise, motor hum — this is a full-fledged language the equipment speaks. An experienced engineer can identify a problem by sound before a breakdown occurs. Sometimes a few seconds are enough.

This is especially noticeable in elevators. An ordinary guest presses a button and rides to a floor. An engineer, at that moment, is listening to how the doors work, judging the smoothness of the stop, noticing vibration, hearing the drive mechanism, automatically noting the system’s response speed. And if the elevator makes even a slightly «wrong» sound, the engineer will think about it for the whole ride.

This professional deformation is especially strong in older-stock hotels. There, an engineer starts to see traces of time literally everywhere: a slightly sagging ceiling, a mark from an old flood near a riser, a poorly painted patch after a repair, mismatched tile shades near an access panel, a barely noticeable wall deformation near a bathroom.

To an ordinary person, these are trifles. To an engineer, they are the building’s operating history.

Sometimes a single glance at a technical room can tell you more about a hotel than an official rating. Engineers often judge a hotel not by its lobby, but by the condition of its plant rooms, the tidiness of the engineering runs, the cleanliness of the technical floors, the labeling of equipment, the organization of storage areas, the condition of the panels, the logic of the engineering solutions. Because that’s where the real attitude toward operations shows through. A beautiful interior can be refreshed in a few months. But a good engineering culture is built over years.

Over time, an engineer starts to notice things that completely escape ordinary people’s attention. Smells, for instance.

A hotel engineer almost never walks past a faint smell of dampness, overheated wiring, sewage, damp ventilation, or overheating equipment. To him, any smell is a potential signal, and sometimes it’s the smell that lets him find a problem before any automated system does.

The sewage system is considered especially treacherous. Almost every hotel engineer has a story that began with the words: «There’s kind of a faint smell here…» And after that, anything could follow — a dried-out floor trap, a hidden clog, ventilation problems, a leak, a broken water seal, or the aftermath of a contractor’s repair work.