How Influencers Make Money & What They Do! Ft. Hadia Shahid

This one is a deep dive with Hadia Shahid, founder of Gramit Go, a digital marketing agency that has been shaping influencer campaigns in Pakistan since 2018. If you have ever wondered how content creators really make money, what happens behind the scenes of a sponsored post, or why some influencers charge a bomb while others seem to do everything for free, this conversation pulls back the curtain. And it gets honest about the parts of the industry that are still messy, stressful, and in need of serious change.

Hadia and I have known each other for years, mostly through work messages. She has been on the agency side, I have been on the influencer side, and we finally sat down in person to talk about the industry that both of us live and breathe. What follows is not a polished 101. It is the real stuff: the late payments, the flaky managers, the briefs that make no sense, and the reason I charge the way I do.

The pivot queen: from accounting to hr to her own agency

Hadia’s career path is not a straight line, and honestly, that is the most inspiring thing about her. She was born in Pakistan, moved to the UK as a child, and returned when she was twelve. She studied accounting and finance at Lums, because that felt like the safe, respectable choice. But she never worked a day in finance. Instead, she fell into HR, spending five years climbing the corporate ladder. Then she reached a point where the ladder was not leading anywhere she wanted to go.

“I realized I wasn’t happy in a corporate job,” she told me. “The corporate culture didn’t suit me.” Her last role, as a cultural diversity and engagement lead, showed her she was creative and needed something different. Her sister suggested influencer marketing. While still working her day job, Hadia started reaching out to brands cold. Her first client was Packages Mall, then Uber. Once she had a handful of clients, she left. No safety net, just the decision that she could not stay.

She talks about the cost of staying, too. Workplace bullying, stress that showed up on her skin, mental health that was quietly crumbling. Quitting felt like a privilege, but also a terrifying leap. “You just have to take that leap of faith,” she said. “The worst case scenario can be it doesn’t work out and you can always pivot again.” That spirit of reinvention is something I deeply relate to, because I have had to do it myself as a creator when a platform stopped serving me.

The good, the bad, and the flaky: inside influencer marketing

If you think influencer marketing is just sending a free product and getting a glowing post, let me tell you, the reality is far more chaotic. Hadia and I talked about the professionalism gap that still haunts this industry. On the one hand, there are incredible creators who deliver thoughtful content on time and actually care. On the other, there are people who take on work, lose the product, and ghost you.

“I’ve had people lose products and ghost me,” Hadia said, and I nodded because I know that happens. Missing deadlines, refusing to communicate, and a general attitude of “take it or leave it” when a brand asks for a small edit. It damages the whole industry. But we were quick to point out that the unprofessionalism cuts both ways. The biggest pain for creators? Payments delayed by months. In an economy where the value of money changes between shooting and getting paid, that hurts. I have had campaigns where the amount I finally received was worth significantly less than what I had quoted. Hadia, as an agency owner, often pays creators out of her own pocket while waiting for brands to clear invoices, which can take two to three months.

And then there are the shady practices. Some agencies lie about what an influencer charges, pocketing the difference. Some influencers undercut each other or badmouth agents. It is not all bad, but these stories are real. They are why we need more transparency and mutual respect, not just quick wins.

Why that sponsored post costs what it costs

I get it. Audiences see a post and think, “She just took a picture and got paid thousands. That is so easy.” What people do not see are the years of unpaid work, the community building, the vulnerability of putting your face and life in front of thousands of strangers who feel entitled to comment on everything. The money I charge is not for that one photo. It is for the six years of consistent content that made a brand want to work with me in the first place.

“If you find someone’s rates high, don’t work with them,” I said in the conversation. “Get someone you can afford.” Hadia backed this up. She said Pakistani influencers are actually underpaid compared to global markets. The rates are not just about follower count, either. They depend on the scope of work, the format, the timeline, and the creator’s own strategy. I personally keep my rates higher so I can take on fewer campaigns and protect my audience from constant ads. That selectivity is a service to my followers, not a cash grab.

Hadia also pointed out the bizarre attitude toward free work. “There is no such thing as free of cost work,” she said. I could not agree more. I have had companies pitch me “FOC” campaigns for causes while they themselves charge for their services. That is not collaboration; that is exploitation.

Managers, briefs, and the broken telephone

A newer trend that frustrates both of us: the rise of influencer managers who do not manage. They just forward messages. No understanding of the brief, no checking of the final video, no value added. “If your manager is just forwarding my message to you and your message to me, they are not adding any value,” Hadia said. She has received content where the manager did not even watch it, and then we discover half the brief was missing. That leads to reshoots, wasted time, and angry clients.

I shared why I have a manager. The sheer flood of messages was drowning me. I need someone to filter, to handle negotiations, and to absorb the tension so I can protect my creative headspace and my relationships. But a good manager is rare. Hadia recommends waiting until you really need one, and then making sure they are in-house, integrated into your workflow, and genuinely collaborative. Hiring your friend who does not know the industry is not the move.

Authenticity is not a trend

With reels and TikTok pushing us toward bite sized, trend chasing content, it is easy to lose yourself. We talked about the pressure to do what everyone else is doing, and why that is a trap. “If you are doing what everybody is doing, you are building yourself towards a very easily replaceable creator,” Hadia said. Your only true USP is you. Trends come and go, the pendulum swings back, and audiences will always crave real connection.

I know this firsthand. When a brand wants me to follow a script that has nothing to do with my life, I push back or I walk away. Even for a campaign with my husband, I had to reshape the brief to make it true to our story. Your audience can tell when you are faking it. That is why some macro influencers have massive reach but zero actual influence. The creators who last are the ones who protect their voice, even if it means losing a few sponsored posts.

What needs to change: a more respectful industry

We ended on a hopeful note, but also a realistic one. Hadia dreams of an industry where payments are swift, briefs are clear, and Pakistani creators are representing global brands. I want the same. But it starts with valuing the work. Respecting the human behind the screen, whether you are a brand, an agency, or a follower.

“There is so much potential in influencer marketing,” Hadia said. “I really hope we get to a point where the process is better so the work is not so stressful.” I think we will get there, but only if we keep having these honest conversations. The ones where we admit the ugly parts without dismissing the beautiful potential.

This conversation is for anyone who has ever scrolled past a sponsored post and thought, “Is it really that easy?” Spoiler: it is not. Whether you are a new creator trying to navigate the chaos, a brand hoping to work with influencers, or just a curious follower, there is so much to learn from the way Hadia breaks it down. And if you are feeling stuck in your own career, her story of constant reinvention is a welcome reminder that you do not have to stay where you are, no matter what your degree says.