Please Take the PR Pledge With Me

Media relations. Sigh. For many PR people, it’s the core of what we do. For many others, it is but just one strategy out of many we use to get the job done. I am in the latter camp. I use it sparingly, when it is the right strategy for what my client or company is trying to accomplish. I believe that too often, media relations – the practice of working with members of the print, broadcast and digital media, to place a story – is the “go to” strategy companies use when they want to get the word out about something, or raise their profile in the public’s eye. Rarely is it the right strategy for them. For one, it’s like hoping you’ll get hit by lightning while in line to buy a lottery ticket. The chance of placing a story, due to the incredibly vast competition for air space and ink, is so slim; it’s often not worth the time invested. But more importantly, it’s usually not even the right strategy for the client or company. By that I mean, in most cases, the target audience comprises only a tiny fraction of the audience of the media outlet, so the return on that invested time spent getting the story placed is not great.

Alas, many PR people still try. Boy, do they try. Many will stop at nothing. They hound reporters with their calls. They make long boring pitches. It’s embarrassing, quite frankly, for all of us to be in the same camp. With client demand to be in the news so often and cohorts killing the game with bad practices, what’s an intrepid PR professional to do?

I used to think that the Universal Accreditation Board’s accreditation (APR) for PR people was the answer. I had originally thought more than ten years ago when I became accredited, that this for sure was the answer. If we all followed the right school of thought, the right approach and strictly adhered to a code of ethics, then we could tamp down on the reckless use of media relations. Through this we would improve our success with clients and bosses, and improve our reputation with journalists. But I’ve found, unfortunately, that the APR is not the answer. It just hasn’t taken off within the PR community the way I had hoped. Not enough of the good folks have it. Many that don’t have it can’t earn it because they don’t have the right foundation of learning to pass, and many that have it still aren’t playing by the rules.

The best I can come up with is a pledge. For simplicity, I am calling this, The PR Pro’s Pledge. It lays out all the things I will not do for a client or boss in the name of smart and savvy PR practice. My thinking is, if enough of us sign this, and share it with each other, and more important, share with clients and bosses, than we may have a real chance at success, whether that success is for our clients, or our own reputations. United we stand against bad PR. Please join me. Sign this. Present it when asked to violate these rules and refuse to violate them. We can’t do it without each other, so let’s do it together. Take the Pledge:

The PR Pro’s Pledge

I, (insert your own name), being of sound and strategic PR mind, hereby swear before all my PR and journalism colleagues, to abide by the following rules for best practice public relations. Should I violate any of the rules contained herein, let me be shamed in a public forum of my peers, with nary a media call returned to me, so long as I shall practice PR:

1. I will not spam journalists by sending multiple journalists the same, generic release or pitch in the same email or in separate emails.
2. If I have to send a generic release or pitch because time is tight or there’s a gun to my head, I will at least hide all the addresses in the BCC line or send them separately with a personalized salutation.
3. I will not call a journalist on deadline to see if they got my email.
4. I will not try to pitch a journalist a story after the journalist has become a victim of an email blast where all other media outlets were visible in the email TO line.
5. I will not turn off my cell phone after sending a release or pitch on a Friday about a weekend event.
6. I will not pitch a story about a client or boss receiving an award, unless my client or boss is an A-list celebrity, a high ranking authority, or a truly remarkable individual.
7. I will not pitch a story that is not news to anyone but my client or boss.
8. I will not lie, stretch the truth, or even white wash information to make my client or boss appear better than they are.
9. I will not purposefully hide information from, or circumnavigate questions asked by the media.
10. I will not buy advertising with a media outlet in attempt to garner more coverage for my boss or client. I won’t even suggest it as a strategy.
11. I will not pitch a journalist that I am not positive covers the topic I am pitching.

Samantha J. Villegas, APR

Carnival’s Crisis of Character

A crisis is the most powerful opportunity a corporation can have. How a company handles a crisis solidifies for its customers, more than any advertisement, marketing collateral or public relations puff piece it creates, what its brand really is about. This one moment seals its lasting impression on consumers and therefore, its financial future like no other event can. Yet, still, year after year, companies get it horribly wrong. This time, it was Carnival Cruise Line’s opportunity. Two paths lay before them out of the darkness and, alas, once again, the wrong path was chosen.

Crisis communications, Step One: Get your leader and or leaders out in front of the public, quickly, to announce in their own words what happened, to show genuine care and emotion for the harmed or hurt, (or even just the inconvenienced), to show regret for the event and to tell, in detail, what you are doing to address the situation. Assure us that you have anticipated exactly this kind of emergency, have practiced the response hundreds of times and that you are currently following the appropriate and well-tested strategies at this time. Tell the public what those strategies are. Step Two: When public health is at stake, apply the full command of your resources to rectify it quickly and effectively. Money cannot be a factor during a crisis of public health and make no mistake, that’s what this was, for there is no community in America of 4,000 people where three to four days without basic sanitation, food and water would be tolerated. Step Three: Repeat Step One as frequently as you can and make updates of your progress.

This is not hard, yet so few companies get it right. Time after time, profits are put over people, in the short run, only to see this strategy backfire in the long run. Right now, polls are showing that regular cruisers are less confident and less likely to cruise again than they were after the Costa Concordia accident, which resulted and several lives lost. That is the impact of Carnival’s choice here. And Carnival’s CEO, calmly watching the game as his customers, staff and assets suffered at sea, will be the lasting brand impression. Not even Kathie Lee Gifford will be able to sing them out of this one. It’s Crisis Communications 101. Every company should know it by now.

Breaking Up (With Your Employer) is Hard To Do

Everyone has had at least one bad breakup in their love life, or at least, if they haven’t, they should. Not that I wish it on anyone. It’s just such an important experience to have. Usually, it’s a catalyst for growth and self-reflection, which ultimately yields greater wisdom and maturity. The same can be said for breaking up with your employer. I have had the great fortune to have experienced all permutations of the business breakup in that I have been both “the leaver” and, “the let go.” In fact, I have experienced many types of leaving scenarios like the “let’s agree you should leave,” as well as the “I am leaving for greener pastures” and even the “I have nowhere to go but I gotta get outta here.”

Being the leaver is obviously very empowering, because in most cases, you have taken charge of a less than ideal, or even a failing situation. You have taken a very brave and necessary step in recognizing that something isn’t working and you’ve ended it. It’s a risk whether you have a job lined up or not. As the saying goes, the devil you know is always better than the one you don’t. Leaving is hard, though, even when a situation is bad. But it’s courageous and it makes you stronger.

What is surprising to me, however, is also how empowering being let go can be. Although, let me assure you, it did not feel that way when it happened. In fact, the empowerment phase came much, much later. Everyone talks about the financial implication of being let go unexpectedly. You hear about the injustice of it and the trials of searching for a job in a down economy, but you rarely if ever hear anyone talk about the emotional toll. I want to take a second here to share mine with you.

The opportunity that came before me in 2010 was the kind of career move you can’t pass up. Where I was a manager of communications for a smallish company with supervisory responsibility for one employee, this new opportunity was to oversee the PR function for nine separate subsidiaries of a large company, with supervisory responsibility for seven employees. Without trying to seem dramatic here, receiving that offer was one of the biggest accomplishments of my career and it changed my life.

This opportunity was more than a title change and a fatter paycheck. It was a validation of my past work history and a down payment on my future abilities – a validation and recognition that my employer at the time was never going to give me. I had not fully recognized how stagnant and underappreciated, as well as underutilized, I felt until the chance to move on in such a big way was before me.

At the new job, I was floored by the trust and respect for my judgment from the get go. I was asked to weigh in on heady, impactful decisions. They always wanted my input and advice. They trusted my instincts, my knowledge and gave me an incredible chance to rise to the occasion. Though I hadn’t been given the chance to work at this level before, they believed in me and I felt that I was holding my own.

I was let go just 10 month later, under a new CEO who knew that the quickest, easiest way to achieve higher profits was to cut costs, and they felt I was a cost they could do without. They assured me this decision was no reflection on my performance and to prove it, gave me a performance bonus for my ten months, plus an incredibly generous severance package. Maybe they felt bad about letting a good employee go. Maybe they felt they were at legal risk for doing so.

Despite the cash, which was extraordinarily helpful, I cried every day for about three months. No matter how often a colleague from the company assured me it was no reflection on me, I couldn’t help but take it personally and secretly I resented the friends and colleagues who were not let go. For months I recalled specific conversations I had with my team, my assistant, my boss and others and wondered whether I said something along the way that built a case against me. Did I meddle too much in decisions? Did I not meddle enough? Did they think my judgment was spot on or in left field? Did I not produce enough? Not engage enough? Was I too yes man? Too no man? They all assured me my judgment was solid and that I had made important contributions to the organization in that short time, but being let go plants a very persistent seed of doubt in you and I let mine germinate way to long.

For months I bargained with myself how I would approach things differently, were I given the chance to go back. I prayed for that chance to go back – like a lover longing to be taken back by an ex who wronged her. I played out conversations I would have, planned out different strategies I would take. I saw myself dazzling them at every turn, right into a promotion into top leadership. I was like Walter Mitty on coke. For a long time I believed I would go back if asked, certain it was something I did, that I could fix if given another chance.

This month marks 19 months since it happened. I have now been away from the job 9 months longer than I actually had the job, but it’s only now that I can finally say that I am over it and better off. I learned while talking to a colleague still at the company, that more layoffs had indeed happened, and more good folks were let go as part of their profits over people strategy, and it finally settled in that it indeed was not me, but them. I got off the phone that day feeling more relieved and settled and secure in myself than I had since initially getting the offer.

What I learned from this is the power of self-doubt. In the last year it had done a real number on me. I had foolishly let that job define me and my self-worth, so of course being let go meant I was somehow worth less. This feeling permeated through everything I did – writing a proposal, a cover letter or even counseling a client. I found myself downplaying my advice before it even left my tongue. It took me awhile to realize that I am still the same person who got the job in the first place and the layoff was not about me. Now I know that my experience and my judgment are mine and cannot be taken away or measured by who my current employer is.

My advice to anyone on the verge of a layoff or in the midst of one – is know that it’s not you, it’s them, and you are still everything you were when they hired you, if not more, plus a tad more humble and a little wiser.

Out of The Mouths of Babes

This phrase, “Out of the Mouths of Babes” comes from a Bible passage referring to the surprising wisdom of children. We use it in everyday language to remark in wonder at what children – the young and inexperienced – sometimes say to us.

I am 41. About a year ago, someone more senior to me said this in my presence, referring to something I had just said. It pushed my buttons. Yes, this person was older than me. But I am not a child, and the use of the phrase for something I said at 40 years old felt incredibly condescending.

I have become a tad sensitive about this type of thing in the last couple of years. The comments I’d occasionally get from my elders about how young I am – how I wouldn’t get a reference to something “before my time,” has started to grate on my nerves. In my teens and 20’s I thought nothing of it. To be fair, they were right. But as I progressed through my 30’s, these comments that were tossed in my direction without much thought started to really bother me.

In the last 6 months, someone called me “kiddo” and another remarked several times within the same conversation, “you are probably too young to remember, but” or “one day you’ll understand this.” And, just today, someone made a reference to a very well-known icon, then suggested I probably hadn’t heard of her, and gave me someone more contemporary to soothe my ignorance.

I realize these things are never said with ill-intent. In fact, I think it’s probably just the opposite: they are said in an attempt to endear me. But let me tell you, it’s never felt that way. It’s just always felt like someone older was reminding me once again that I hadn’t reached some pinnacle of accomplishment, or some height of wisdom. It’s this imaginary line in the sky that keeps inching away from me as I inch closer to it, never to touch it.

To make matters worse, I look young. I am mistaken for being ten years younger than I am. Champagne problems I know, but I have actually wished for some gray hair and more laugh lines just to nudge people away from the assumption.

Throughout my career, people referred to the 20-year mark as being the sign of a true senior professional. This year, I rejoiced that I had finally hit that mark. Then, last week, how to define what a senior professional is actually came up in conversation and someone actually suggested that we define it at 30 years. My exasperation peaked. Come on, people!

What this has taught me is to be very careful about the way I speak to my contemporaries. I have vowed not to use the phrase, “you’re probably too young to remember, but” unless I am talking to a 14 year old, who probably is indeed too young to remember. I will not suggest to my younger colleagues that they “will one day understand” and I will aim to always make them feel as though they are my equal, now that we’re all officially adults.

Now, anyone know how I could get the folks on the other side of my age to commit to this as well?

Same Great Store, Exciting New Name – Food Lion!

I noticed this morning (on my way into Starbucks with the kids for a celebratory doughnut on the last day of pre-school) that the Bloom grocery store in my neighborhood suddenly had the words Food Lion across the front.

Wait a minute, I thought. I scratched my head. Was it all a dream? Wasn’t this store Bloom a minute ago? Didn’t it change FROM Food Lion TO Bloom recently? Like three years ago recently? You do remember this, don’t you, because it absolutely was just three years ago that Food Lion made the exciting switch, effectively erasing all those 60 Minutes images of bleached meat from our brains with the nifty, fresh new name of Bloom.

I hurried home to my laptop, flipped to Google and searched Bloom. I pulled up www.shopbloom.com. First line of text:

Same Great Store, Exciting New Name – Food Lion!

I’m sorry, did you say, “Exciting new name?” I rubbed my eyes. I reloaded the page – maybe it was a joke. Nope. They actually think we don’t remember. First on the list of things to do with this new brand you’ve recently created is to fire the dumbass who posted that text.

Remember those insipid TV and radio ads with the shiny happy people in the lime green polo shirts imploring you to shop happy? In fact, I think if I recall correctly, the theme of the ads was to showcase how life really sucked, except for the fact that you could go to Bloom and that would change everything and life would be awesome! Remember that? So, now we’re going back to Food Lion. And here’s the especially funny part.  On the Bloom website, next to this text…

“The name may be new, but you can expect the same friendly faces, convenient layout, and great selection. Food Lion offers the great features you’ve come to expect but now with new lower prices, special coupons, and even more ways to save!”

…is a picture of a Food Lion storefront with the year 1918 next to the name. 1918. Silly Lion! You’ve been around 6 years shy of 100! And we all know it.

I wish I knew what all those conversations in marketing were leading up to Food Lion’s original name change to Bloom in the first place. I am betting it had something to do with the Bloom tagline.

“Bob, we’re still reeling from the bleached meat thing. We need to chnage. Make them forget it. We need to be a different kind of grocery store. We need to bloom into something else.” “Hot damn, George, that’s it!”

They were desperate to be different and fresh. So they became Bloom, a different kind of grocery store. (That’s literally the Bloom tagline).

And here we are three short years later back to Food Lion. What happened? Not different enough? Too different? My guess is, different didn’t work because it was a half-assed different. You know how I know this? Because I recall seeing a mouse in the cake mix aisle one night shortly after they had transformed to Bloom. Now to me, that was very Food Lion-y. I knew there and then they hadn’t really changed. They changed the name and colors, maybe the floors and lighting, but nothing meaningful. There was no real change in attitude or behavior of employees. They probably still bleached the meat, too, what with all the rodents running around.

I also think it failed because they lost loyal Food Lion customers. They forgot who their audience was, like Susan G Komen all over again. Bloom and lime green shirts and the happiness of it all didn’t speak to Food Lion peeps. Food Lion peeps were not shiny happy people. They were down on their luck coupon clippers, trawling for gourmet frozen pizza on the cheap. They didn’t want new fan dangled fruit with an organic section and hardwood-ish floors. They wanted their familiar, dreary linoleum grocery store that sold meat on the cheap, because they could, because they bleached the darkened expired beef and stuck a new date and price tag on it. The Food Lion peeps liked that.

Take a lesson here from Bloom. If you’re gonna make a change – know why. Fix what’s broken in a big way, and for Pete’s sake don’t change without checking in with customers first. Or else you might just find yourselves changing right back.

Missed America Pageant

The Miss America Pageant was this past week. Did you watch it? I didn’t. I saw that it was on and for a split second I thought, really? We’re still doing this? How are we still doing this in 2012? I posted the question on my Facebook page and asked friends to enlighten me as to why this is a good thing. No one did, though a friend actually wondered why it wasn’t a good thing. I don’t think she was being sarcastic. In the off chance there are more of you out there who are not sure why beauty pageants aren’t a good thing, this post is for you. This is my Top 10 reasons, Letterman style, why beauty pageants are bad.

1. It’s. a. beauty. contest. It rewards women for being pretty!  We’re done here.

Kidding aside, this is a real issue. At its heart is the notion that we have created a societal norm, the beauty pageant, that says to everyone, hey, it’s not only okay to judge women for their looks, it’s a celebratory occasion. Yes, there’s a question at the end of the contest, after we’ve been judged on our looks in regular wear, evening wear and swim wear, but we all know the question is more of just a pulse check than anything else. As one friend on Facebook pointed out, the audience actually clapped when one contestant knew who our Vice President was. We clapped for that.  

If you are still wondering what’s wrong, let me answer your question with a question. Why don’t we have beauty pageants for men? My husband said because no one would watch it. I disagree. I would line up to get on my couch and catch that. And I know for a fact my girlfriends would, too, along with a few men I know. Why? Because it would be frivolous and ridiculous and funny. Because I would be permitted for a few hours to shamelessly value my fellow human beings for something completely superficial, valueless and, might I add, completely out of their own control, given that plastic surgery is forbidden.

We don’t have male beauty pageants because bottom line is, they would make men appear stupid. Like this girl. Remember her? The epitome of my anti-spire (my new word, meaning one I don’t aspire to).

And so, there is the double standard. Not okay for men. Perfectly fine for women.  

And you wonder why women still make less than men for the same qualifications and work. And you wonder why there are still laws on the books that make it illegal for a husband to rape his wife. And you wonder why Colin Powell was never once asked about his hair style, while Hilary Clinton has never once not been asked. These things are related. I say, these issues exist because we’ve all grown up valuing women for their looks (and bodies I should say) first, before anything else, and, we often don’t go any further than that.

When you value someone for their looks, you rob them of the opportunity to be valued for anything real they have to offer – anything they can actually create, think, say, or do. It’s like valuing them for breathing. It’s meaningless and yet, it has so much power. When we, as a society say it’s okay to value women for their looks and celebrate that and that alone, it minimizes our value in every other aspect of life. What’s worse, it has made us slaves to our looks. It has been proven to have stolen aspiration from young girls (see the Dove campaign),  and it robs brilliant aging women of realizing their full potential. Smart, celebrated writer Olivia Goldsmith (The First Wive’s Club) died on the table while having liposuction done to improve her appearance. Of the millions of morbidly obese phenomenal male writers out there, how many of them have we lost to liposuction? I can assure you, none.

To those of you who say beauty is power and beautiful women can be smart, I fervently agree. I am not arguing that. But I challenge you to understand the word beauty in either of those phrases, as I understand it. Good luck. Hint: it’s not some t.v. network or movie company or magazine convention. What I am saying is, the whole rubric of life is effed up because we have this long history of valuing women for looks and the pageant only reinforces it. So, enough already. Let’s end this. Stop watching it. Let’s try to learn to see women for who they are and what they bring to the table. Let’s evaluate them for the change they make in the world, for the influence they have on our children, for the contribution they make in society.

P.S. Let me be clear: Let’s not all start burning our bras. Those are important, necessary inventions that help women run the world. Just don’t pick one that makes you look like Madonna during her blonde ambition tour. That may send the wrong message.

Take Me Back, Please, To My Future

My whole life I wondered at what age it happened – that phenomenon where once cool, hip adults turned into old fuddy-duddies longing for the way things used to be. I know now that 40 is the magic number because I noticed it happening to me a few years ago when I hit that mile marker.

It began subtly. At first, I just found myself completely annoyed with the morning radio shows. The conversations seemed trite, stuff like, “Is it cheating if you are with someone and flirt with someone else in a bar?” Hadn’t we all rehashed this a million times already? I’d switch to NPR just hear something new. Then, on the way home from work, the music seemed too jarring for my tired brain. I’d switch again to NPR for soothing voices reporting the news for the day or the softly inquisitive Terry Gross and her Fresh Air. So, I had become that adult that listens to talk radio instead of music. I also became the adult with a low tolerance for loud music. There are stores in the mall that I stopped going into because the music is too loud. I can hear the dudch, dudch, dudch, coming from the storefront’s faux windows, and I pass by quickly because I can’t take it. I am so out of touch I can’t even tell you the store’s name. I am annoyed when restaurants play music too loud. And I have no desire to see a live band play, unless maybe it’s a small outdoor venue and the audience will be the sort of people who sit in their ticketed seats quietly and listen.

These are the little things that have changed without me really noticing. Then, more recently, I noticed that I started getting really pissed about the way they were bagging my groceries at the checkout. I suddenly cared very much about this and would actually get angry watching them throw my food willy nilly into the bag. Don’t they know that you’ve got to make a square bottom? Square off the bag with aluminum foil, cereal and a box of crackers. Fill in the middle with heavy, but small jars and cans, and then fill in the nooks with fruit and paper goods. Balance the heavy with the light. Put soft stuff on top. Why is that hard? I need my bags to sit squarely on the floor of my hatchback and they won’t do that if you throw yogurts and apples on the bottom. Plus, you’re stabbing my tomatoes with sharp edges. This was the kind of thing that could ruin my good mood. This was clearly an old person’s kind of peeve.

The area in my life where this change is most alarming and depressing to me is in my career. I find myself longing for the 90’s and early 00’s, which of course were just last week in my mind. It was a much simpler time back then in public relations. The media were well defined and still held all the cards. Corporate America was very credible, and being an expert actually meant something. Now, everyone is an expert and instead of reaching out one-to-many, we talk one-on-one or many-to-many. I really wonder whether anyone is saying anything worthwhile and whether they’re even reaching the right people with their worthless message. Loud and frequent doesn’t make it important. The game is so different and I find myself hating it. I long for the days when email made things easier but not less formal. I have lost my compass and my footing in this new paradigm, and I actually find myself wondering whether I can do it anymore. I feel old and set in my ways because I don’t just dislike the new tools and our new way of ugh – engaging – with them, I find myself confused by them, not smart enough for any of it to feel natural to me. That makes me frustrated, just like my dad would get, white-lipped and yelling at me as he watched over my shoulder while I set up his AOL account so many years ago. It got to the point where he and I couldn’t even be in the same room together with a computer. That anger and frustration was there because he was a smart man (a Harvard grad!) who suddenly didn’t understand a business tool. I get it. I am there now. I had been shrugging all these feelings off as something else other than my age. I was blaming the complexity of technology and my scattered motherhood brain, but that wasn’t it.

One day recently at the gym it hit me. First, you have to know that me and the gym go way back. In my twenties, I was a gym fanatic. I worked out six or seven days a week. One hour of cardio, two to three hours lifting weights, two body parts per day. I was a certified aerobics instructor, a weight trainer, and had a subscription to Muscle and Fitness, which I read monthly, cover to cover. I was completely at home in the gym. Marriage, child bearing, then child rearing, reoriented my interests away from the gym and twenty years later here I am, 30 pounds heavier, and a novice in a place where I was once an expert. Do you see a trend?

I was having a free training session, and this trainer, who is about 28 years old, was working me through a series of circuits doing things I had never done before. No cable curls. No lat rows. No Smith Machine or dead lifts. I don’t know the names of anything I did. Twenty years ago, you picked two body parts and did about three sets of four exercises for each part, with a few minutes rest in between to get a drink of water and chit-chat with friends, then go back to your set. This new workout was a full body circuit of yoga moves, cardio and weights all rolled into one. There was no rest. All body parts. New ideas. New tools. It was the damned Hoot Suite of workouts and I didn’t like it one bit.

Yet another familiar beloved thing was stolen from me and replaced with the strange and new. There I was, down on the floor planking with a skateboard thing beneath my feet so I could roll my knees up to my chest and back to strengthen my core, when I realized, I am not bugged because the world around me is changing. I am bugged because I don’t want things to change. And there’s how you arrive at the 40-something fuddy duddy.    

Forever the optimist, I see some good in the aging. I appreciate what I know more. I may not see all the Oscar-nominated movies in the year they came out, or be able to tick of the top five Idol or DWTS finalists, but I know the headlines for the day, I am an informed consumer, and I understand a little bit about what I need for retirement. Things I used to take for granted now seem like small wins to me like when I remember whether this is the week I need to change my contact lenses or whether I turned off the gas grill after dinner. Plus, I have found delight in the little things – like how life changing and wonderful the right sized garbage can can be, or the thrill of a parking spot near the entrance to Costco.

Best of all is, though I may no longer be hip, I no longer care that I am not. I have other fish to fry as they say. Now, please excuse me while I go learn this @#$%^& Hoot Suite thingy so I can still do my job. Sigh.

What Howard Stern Can Teach Us About Corporate Communications

Howard Stern will be back in the lime light soon as a judge on America’s Got Talent. It’s an interesting if not risky move for NBC, since this audience either isn’t familiar with him because they are too young or they just plain aren’t his target demographic (18-34 year-old men I am guessing).When I think of America’s Got Talent viewers, I think of tweens and teens and their parents. So, it will be interesting to see whether he can evolve to attract this new audience or whether his audience will evolve to like the show or perhaps some third scenario where both happen. You remember Howard Stern, right? He’s the man who invented shock jock. In fact, when I think of what makes good content in the social sphere, I think of Howard Stern. Howard was the real before reality was main stream. Setting aside his pornographic, sexist and/or colorful content, Howard is a true pioneer of what we now all call engagement, and he has a lot to teach us about what makes compelling content.

It was at lunch today with colleagues when I brought this up and the fact that he serves as a bit of an inspiration to me as I write my blog. When I got home I flipped through his autobiographical “Private Parts” which he published in 1993 and I have to say, he really was way ahead of his time. Here are some lessons we can all apply today from Howard from 20 years ago. Enjoy!

1. If you put on a good show, people are going to listen. Content quality over quantity, right? He was frustrated with management’s demand that he make special appearances at lame events all over town, where people didn’t even know him. He was right. Don’t waste your time posting useless info all over every channel. Be great in the one place where your audience is listening to you.
2. Give the crazies their chance. Leather Weatherlady was a crazy fan who was always taunting Howard. He finally gave in and let her do what she wanted. Guess what happened? She backed off. When naysayers and irrational commenters try to heckle your blog, let them. All they want is to be heard. What they say will reflect worse on them than on you. Let them. You’ll be respected for giving them the air and taking it on the chin.
3. Make sure everyone who works with you is simpatico. Howard learned this value when he hired Robin, who “got” him, played off him and helped propel him forward. Hire for culture. Get the people with the same set of values working with you and teach the skill set. You can’t teach culture.
4. When you get that big chance, go all the way. When Howard came to DC for the first time, he decided he wasn’t going to hold back. He knew this was his ticket to NYC and he was going to go big or go home. When you have a big chance, go for it. Go where no one has gone yet. People will follow.
5. Don’t let management hold you back. Howard really never listened to his managers. he instead tried to help them understand where he was going. And he pushed them, little by little. Educate the C-suite about your strategy. Take baby steps. Push a little bit each day. You’ll get there.
6. Don’t follow a boring format. One of Howard’s early program directors wanted him to do certain things each day, but he knew he couldn’t be spontaneous and relevant if he was on a schedule. You don’t have to do the same thing the same way every time. Shake it up periodically. It’s more important you are relevant and spontaneous. Just leave everyone a crumb trail so they can follow you.
7. Just because the research says so, doesn’t mean it’s always true. The station told Howard the research said people didn’t want the disk jockey to take calls between songs. But in reality, the respondents didn’t know what kind of calls Howard was going to take, so how could they judge? Research is helpful, but know its limits.
8. When your competition is listening to you, even when you do mundane things, don’t let management stop you. One morning, Howard got hungry and decided to eat breakfast on the air for 18 minutes. His boss was livid. She yelled at him that the program director from another station called and told on him. She told him he couldn’t eat breakfast on the air. Howard said, yes, but a competing station’s program director tuned in to me eating breakfast for 18 minutes. Their ratings tripled soon after and his boss got a promotion. Win-win all around. If your competition is listening and following you, don’t change a thing.
9. Always be yourself. This of course is one of Howard’s best lessons. He never let the management or networks change him. He was always true to himself. I think that’s a big part of why he has such a loyal following. He wouldn’t change for money or fame and in the end, he got them both anyway. Have the courage to be yourself, even if it means walking away from the job.
10. You can make mistakes and still be a rock star. No one has made more mistakes than Howard Stern. His blunders are legendary and horrific. The plane crash. The miscarriage. The list goes on. Some people never forgave him. But, many did. Why? It gets back to being real, being consistent and being honest. If nothing else, you could count on Howard to always be completely honest. People love that. They crave it. And they will follow him forever for it.

So, find your inner Howard – all the good parts – and rock your platform.

   

You PR People Are Killing Me

Have you noticed how things keep dying lately? Media things, I mean. Like for example, the newspaper. It supposedly died back in 2007 or 2008, because of the Internet. (I however, and many people, continue to read the Wall Street Journal in its original paper form). This was quickly followed by the paperback book (or hard cover). Those apparently died in 2009 or 2010 after the Kindle/Nook products were invented and made the originals obsolete. For Christmas, by the way, I got a Kindle, and, the hard bound 900+ page-novel 1Q84 by my favorite author Murakami. There’s no pride in flipping 900 pages on a Kindle. I must hold the massive tome in my hands and have the satisfaction that comes when the weight of the right side slowly shifts each day to the left. Then I heard that Twitter killed the press release in 2011, though I still use them – press releases – with success. Just last week, I read a blog about an article that said the Internet died, so I am not sure how exactly you are reading and/or commenting on this. Tonight, was the last straw, as I read that the phone interview is now dead. Really? I believe The Fonz has just cleared the shark. We’re done here.

It’s so funny to me, the hoops you leap through in public relations to assure beyond any iota of doubt that what you do is indeed valuable, serious work. You’re like Matt Lauer with this endless campaign, more to yourselves than anyone else, to prove your worth, as trust me, no one is listening. It’s no wonder this campaign never ends. You are your own worst enemy.

First of all, stop it. Me thinks thou doth protesteth too much. You people, with these proclamations of media deaths, are part of the problem we have in PR with credibility. It’s easy to cast the blame. Is it the early adopter/innovator types who are quick to latch on to the new fads, eschewing the old for no good reason? Is it the newcomers to the profession, whether millennials or former journalists, who have no foundation for what we do, and believe foundation to be irrelevant? How about the agency employees, encircled in their own safe, pink bubble of PR, where all their coworkers do what they do and their bosses do what they do and where they sit around the board room talking about how the client just doesn’t understand it, and where a million hits on You Tube is touted as an extraordinarily successful campaign. Maybe they’re to blame. Because if you spend any time inside a non-PR business you will notice that PR is not exactly a foregone conclusion. In fact, many businesses view it as a pretty expensive accessory to other legitimate business functions with very few measurement standards and hardly any ties to business performance. They don’t care about the tool, the platform, the awards, the hits. They care about profits, customer loyalty and competitive edge. Some care about engagement, to use our latest Bingo buzzword, but only to the extent the engagement thing increases profits. In their world, you are only credible if you speak their language and what you offer has direct impact on their goals.

Please. Nothing has died. And certainly not the phone interview. We’re evolving. The addition of tools to the toolbox doesn’t render the old tools inconsequential. We’re still using the arrowheads and machetes of our early days because we need them and they have a place. When you claim a prominent business tool, that the non-PR world, which is most of the rest of the world, is still using with vigor, you are not only not believable, you seem silly. You are the reason we, as an industry, find ourselves in 2011 publically proclaiming our own confusion about what we do with a national call to rewrite the definition of PR, not because we think the world doesn’t know what we do, but horror of all horrors, because we’re suddenly realizing that the people in our same profession don’t know what we do.

Please. You’re like a wall of sand bags trying to hold bag the tsunami that is the rest of the world’s impression of PR and every time you claim some major mainstream tool is dead or passé, because you’ve decided to forsake it for the latest fad, your credibility takes another dip.

For the love of Pete, stop your declarations. And while you’re at it, get off Twitter for a few hours tomorrow and have a face-to-face conversation with someone about something meaningful. Or pick up a book. It’s a paper-like object with a hard cover. You open it with your hands and turn the pages with your fingers. Enjoy!

A New Consultant’s Confession

There’s a great new commercial out there for “all natural” cold cuts and hot dogs (yeah, don’t get me started there) where a husband asks his wife if he can quit his job to write a blog and without missing a beat she barks an emphatic no. I laughed when I first saw this, because I feel like that’s a little bit what I’ve done. I didn’t exactly quit my job to write this blog, but I did quit the rat race to go in to business for myself earlier this year, and I do now happen to have time, and therefore, desire and inspiration, to occasionally blog.

I’ve got to tell you, my only regret is not doing this sooner. Besides having the time and energy for the creative outlet for a blog, I also happen to have the freedom and energy to go to a gym now, when I want to. I also have the freedom to choose my clients, how to do the work, when to do the work and where to do the work. I was actually coming home from the gym when I took a work-related call. I can almost see the nodding heads of my independently working colleagues who figured this all out before I did, and who have been enjoying this freedom for years. They all know what I am talking about: PJs until noon (or longer if it’s cold and rainy out). Laptop actually on your lap, while watching tv, sitting at the beach or waiting for your car to get fixed, and that amazing feeling of detachment from clients. Yes, it’s not just the physical liberation, it’s the mental liberation. I am not saying you don’t care. Of course you care. You are there for them – for anything they need, at any time. But you no longer bleed, sweat or cry for them the way you did when they were your employer. Yes, I cried. Stress is no longer an accessory I wear or a house guest I cater to. It’s gone.

The decision to leave a job is tough when you have somewhere to go. But to leave when I had no prospects for work, no savings, and a family of four to support (and a new used car, btw)? You’d have thought I was crazy. But, sometimes you jump out of a burning building to your certain death below because you just believe in every fiber that it will be better than your current situation. I never thought I’d go out on my own. I can’t believe it now, but I actually thought it would be more stressful. But I got to a point where that unknown out the window was better and more appealing to me than the shit storm I was experiencing where I was. So I leapt out and it’s been the best decision.

For example, today, I worked from 9 to 11:30, then went to the gym, then worked from 1:30 to 2:30, then walked to school to pick up my kid(!), then walked home, then worked from 3:00 to 4:30 and was out back chillin’ with my neighbors until dinner, which I made. Did I mention I love making dinner now that I have the time to actually make something, rather than merely prep something? Then, kids to bed, clean up, and a little more work in front of the tube from 8:00 to 9:00 pm. That’s a six hour day of real work, with no interruptions from Bob in accounting and no water cooler drama. Six productive hours, which is likely more than I used to get in an average 8-hour day, without any time in the car fighting traffic, except to go to the gym.

So, what’s your point, Sam? I could say my point is that life is short, take advantage of every opportunity, take risks, blah, blah, blah. But that’s not true to me. My point is life is long. Damn it’s so long. Why not change it up and take some risks because it’s long? What else are you going to do? I remember thinking, how long am I going to keep doing this? Is this it? I’ve got as much time left in my career as I have behind me, this can’t be what I do for another 20 to 25 years! I was going through the motions because I was afraid of what I didn’t know or what else was out there. And, I think I felt safe. I felt so safe, that I started to die of safe. I didn’t even feel that I was good at my job anymore and I knew I had to take action or else I was at risk of one day having a pretty boring storyline to tell my grandkids from the rocker.

I am glad I leapt. I don’t know how long this will last or whether I’ll ever have to – or want to- rejoin the race, but I don’t worry about it now. There’s plenty of time for that later.