Monday, April 17, 2017

You don't need me to tell what's wrong

Last week, colleagues and former students encouraged me to write about the colossal PR blunders of April:
These tragic blunders didn't need my commentary. News media pundits and late-night comedians carried the ball far across the goal line. They pointed out the universal tone-deafness of Pepsi, United, and Spicer. They didn't need me to spike the ball.

Businesses and government officials have been saying dumb things for decades. There's nothing new about these errors. Each reflects an acute case of self-absorption, and a total disregard for public perception and good judgment.

What is new? None of these entities realizes that any misstep will be captured and shared, globally, within seconds. Social media, a smart phone, and a WiFi connection are all anyone needs to magnify the doltish comments of a Sean Spicer or United Airlines CEO. 

Pepsi ad, c. 1919
That United keeps screwing up -- leggings, broken guitars, now broken teeth -- underscores a deeper reality. The company's practices are in disarray, and its board of directors should demand wholesale dismissals of top managers.

Here's reality: it's 2017. Anyone in the communications business must think of the internet as a camera that is always on. It never blinks. And, if you've heard TV actors complain that the camera "adds 10 pounds," take it one step further. The camera magnifies. Any camera, including the one on your phone.

The world really is watching. Have a Pepsi Day. 



Monday, March 27, 2017

Are there parachutes on United Airlines flights?

This week, United Airlines proved that it has learned nothing about social media in nine years.

By now, you may have seen the tale of United's removing two teenage girls from a flight for wearing leggings. United explained that its policy for users of employee-provided travel passes came with a dress code. Leggings and spandex are forbidden.

This episode, as silly as it sounds, triggered a Twitter onslaught of criticism for the airline. It amused me, at first, because what passes for travel attire on most U.S. air carriers ranges from business suits to rumpled pajamas to cosplay outfits.

But then, as the United story tumbled across Twitter, involving celebrities including Chrissy Teigen, Patricia Arquette, and even octogenarian William Shatner (at left, in tights from his '60s Star Trek era), I remembered: United's been down this road of embarrassment before.

In 2008, Canadian musician Dave Carroll created a mini-sensation when the airline's baggage crew smashed his checked Taylor guitar. His music video response earned more than 16 million YouTube views. United apologized -- having become a laughing stock.


Has United learned nothing in nine years? Instead of hiding behind policy, denial, and protocol, the company's communication pros allowed the leggings story to percolate and gain international attention.

So, as a reminder, here are some basic PR tips for an organization facing a barrage of criticism on social media:

  • Any incident – even a minor one – can go viral and global
  • If you don’t tell your story, the internet will do it for you
  • Control the message to ensure your reputation isn’t at risk
  • Don’t respond with policy blather. Instead, good-natured humor may help de-fuse tension over an issue (depending on the situation)
  • Get it resolved ASAP

Me? I'm booking my next flight on Southwest.


Monday, February 13, 2017

Give it to me straight

If you're a PR professional, you may disagree with me. And I'd love to hear your viewpoint.

Six months ago, a local acquaintance asked me to help promote his book on business leadership. Most news media I contacted were enthusiastic, interviewing him on air, including his book in a newspaper column, or running op-ed essays he'd written about business conduct.

By Holger.Ellgaard (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0
 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)],
 via Wikimedia Commons
Except one. An experienced news/public affairs broadcaster who initially expressed interest, asked to read a copy of the client's book, and then went silent. Didn't respond to emails or phone calls. Even when I asked co-workers at the broadcaster's station, who first said they'd been busy, and told me he'd get back to me.

Except he didn't. Nor did his producer. 

I hate giving up. But, after six months of unresponsiveness from the broadcaster, I decided to cease pursuing him. His head was elsewhere. I won't speculate where.

But any response -- even one declining to pursue the interview -- would have been professional. I've been at this PR game for more than a few years, and had turn-downs from media gatekeepers before. A simple "Sorry, we aren't interested in the book or the author" response, instead of silence, would have been okay. 

Instead, the broadcaster's lack of candor or communication over a six-month window resulted in a waste of time: his, my client's, and mine. Maybe that's fine for hiring managers who receive hundreds of resumes for a single opening, and simply can't respond to each applicant.

But broadcasters, like PR people, are in the communication business. The market in question isn't a crazy, hectic Top 20 media market; it's a small-to-medium size market where relationships matter. The broadcaster and I have worked together in the past. He should find 30 seconds to write or say, "Sorry, we can't use this in our show." Give it to me straight. 

If you have a different opinion, I welcome reading it in the comments section below. Thanks. 

Monday, January 2, 2017

Legerdemain, anti-news, and neckties

By Dan Altuz (Own work)
[CC BY-SA 4.0 (http://creativecommons.org/
licenses/by-sa/4.0)], via Wikimedia Commons
An old magician's trick -- "look closely, nothing up my sleeve" -- threatens to alter our perception of what constitutes real news. Unless we wise up, and fast.

In stage parlance, the word was legerdemain. Derived from a French expression for "sleight of hand," it describes a magic trick, or some other deceit. Screenwriters and journalists don't use the word much anymore. 

But, in an era of false news, dusting it off would be a fine idea.

Because we're looking at a year or more of childish sniping and Tweets whose true purpose is to distract editors and too-lean reporting staffs from digging at harder stories. Legerdemain isn't limited to the next occupants of the White House. In some cases, PR people have performed their own version of "here's an oversized check to charity" to obscure the less-than-charitable dealings of their clients.

And it works, much of the time. 

It works because the U.S. electorate (or a subset thereof) chose a reality TV version of a CEO as their leader. It works because the same electorate responded like dogs to a bone whenever someone with a microphone said "Benghazi" or "emails." And it works when the phrase "fake news" is quickly co-opted to infer fabrications from any political pundit.

Over the weekend, the Wall Street Journal's editor said it wouldn't label the President-elect's falsehoods or misleading claims as "lies." Mr. Baker is essentially telling his readers: "You decide." Which gave rise to a sad assortment of neckties on Fox News. That recipe worked out well, didn't it?

But it stops here. And now.

We must think of legerdemain in today's terms. It's no longer "fake news." It's no longer a Trumpish bellow across Twitter. We need to view it as anti-news: fable-telling whose sole intent is to mislead viewers and readers from facts and authentic news.

So it's up to us -- you and I -- to draw the line. This far, and no farther. No anti-news. No more legerdemain. Challenge falsehoods. Be vigilant for the inaccurate tweet that distracts us from the author's true intentions.

And pay close attention to the man or woman behind the curtain.