MUSINGS BY JOAN #14
I was watching Obama’s press secretary, Bob Gibbs, on TV the other night as he was dealing with Joe Biden’s off the wall comment on how to avoid swine flu. Halfway through the press conference, as he tried once again to explain what the Veep really meant to say, I recognized a familiar look on his face. It was what pr people call a “Titanic moment”. That’s when events are spinning out of control and the client’s “ship” is sinking fast. You would like nothing better than to run away and hide.
Like most pr practitioners, over the years I’ve had several of those moments. In retrospect, some were actually funny. Others, definitely not.
First a funny one. Our client was a seafood shipper and he decided to open a very posh retail outlet in a fancy area of Fort Lauderdale. Because he wanted press coverage, we came up with the idea of a black tie opening for what was basically just a fish store. The invites were super sophisticated and the caterer was the hottest in town at the time. The “piece de resistance” was to be the fabulous table centerpieces. . .a series of large glass fish bowls with live gold fish swimming around.
Nobody told us that gold fish can’t live in regular tap water. Ten minutes before the guests were due to arrive, somebody noticed that the fish had quit swimming and were all floating belly up on top of the water. Utter panic! Should we try to scoop them out with our bare hands? Hell, no. We were wearing our fanciest cocktail clothes. Should we ditch all the centerpieces? No way. That would leave the tables looking terrible.
In desperation, my attention fastened on a huge bouquet of flowers someone had sent the client. In seconds, the bouquet was dismantled , stems broken off, and the flowers set afloat on top of the now really dead fish. The effect, we hoped, was interesting, if not exactly professional, and it did manage to cover most of the fishy fatalities. We felt like murderers and spent the evening praying they wouldn’t start to smell.
My not so funny moment came one deceptively calm Sunday morning with a phone call from the editor of our local paper. To set the stage, I had been representing the City of North Miami as Public Relations Director for more than three relatively calm years. My job was to send out positive press releases about all the good things the City was doing and to deal with the press at the weekly City Council meetings.
But back to my Sunday morning phone call. The voice on the other end of the line was a familiar one as I dealt on a daily basis with the local paper and knew the editor well.
“Hi, Joan. . . Anything new happening?” the voice inquired sweetly.
I was watching Obama’s press secretary, Bob Gibbs, on TV the other night as he was dealing with Joe Biden’s off the wall comment on how to avoid swine flu. Halfway through the press conference, as he tried once again to explain what the Veep really meant to say, I recognized a familiar look on his face. It was what pr people call a “Titanic moment”. That’s when events are spinning out of control and the client’s “ship” is sinking fast. You would like nothing better than to run away and hide.
Like most pr practitioners, over the years I’ve had several of those moments. In retrospect, some were actually funny. Others, definitely not.
First a funny one. Our client was a seafood shipper and he decided to open a very posh retail outlet in a fancy area of Fort Lauderdale. Because he wanted press coverage, we came up with the idea of a black tie opening for what was basically just a fish store. The invites were super sophisticated and the caterer was the hottest in town at the time. The “piece de resistance” was to be the fabulous table centerpieces. . .a series of large glass fish bowls with live gold fish swimming around.
Nobody told us that gold fish can’t live in regular tap water. Ten minutes before the guests were due to arrive, somebody noticed that the fish had quit swimming and were all floating belly up on top of the water. Utter panic! Should we try to scoop them out with our bare hands? Hell, no. We were wearing our fanciest cocktail clothes. Should we ditch all the centerpieces? No way. That would leave the tables looking terrible.
In desperation, my attention fastened on a huge bouquet of flowers someone had sent the client. In seconds, the bouquet was dismantled , stems broken off, and the flowers set afloat on top of the now really dead fish. The effect, we hoped, was interesting, if not exactly professional, and it did manage to cover most of the fishy fatalities. We felt like murderers and spent the evening praying they wouldn’t start to smell.
My not so funny moment came one deceptively calm Sunday morning with a phone call from the editor of our local paper. To set the stage, I had been representing the City of North Miami as Public Relations Director for more than three relatively calm years. My job was to send out positive press releases about all the good things the City was doing and to deal with the press at the weekly City Council meetings.
But back to my Sunday morning phone call. The voice on the other end of the line was a familiar one as I dealt on a daily basis with the local paper and knew the editor well.
“Hi, Joan. . . Anything new happening?” the voice inquired sweetly.
“Not that I know of, Jim. I’m getting ready to leave on a week’s vacation later today. Were you calling for something special?” I replied.
“Just wondering if you had a statement for us on the fact that the City Manager and half the City Council were arrested last night,” came the reply.
“What!!!!”, I screeched. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I’ll call you back!”
My first call was to the City Attorney, who needless to say was a trifle busy arranging bail for our fallen comrades. When I did get him on the phone he hurriedly mumbled something about “kick backs on the new tennis complex” and to get over to City Hall as soon as possible. I won’t go into details, but my vacation plans went out the window, as I scrambled to put together a short but pithy statement that the Mayor could read to the newspapers. Not only was the ship sinking, I had the feeling I was going down with it. In the pr business, this is called “crisis management”. I knew it was a crisis, but I didn’t have a clue how to manage it.
It was a bad week, public relations-wise, for the City of North Miami. Actually, it was a pretty lousy couple of months. The City Manager was convicted of a whole laundry list of crimes; the Recreation Director, who was also my best friend at City Hall, turned out to be the bag man for the operation, and half the council quietly resigned. It was not the City’s finest hour and I didn’t get much sleep, but I did learn that the best way to handle the press in the midst of a real crisis is to be as honest and forthcoming as possible.
It’s all about credibility. Obviously, Obama’s press chief has learned that lesson well. I’m not comparing little old North Miami’s problems with the Office of the President, but I sure could relate to that look on Bob Gibbs’ face..
# # # #.
“What!!!!”, I screeched. “I have no idea what you are talking about. I’ll call you back!”
My first call was to the City Attorney, who needless to say was a trifle busy arranging bail for our fallen comrades. When I did get him on the phone he hurriedly mumbled something about “kick backs on the new tennis complex” and to get over to City Hall as soon as possible. I won’t go into details, but my vacation plans went out the window, as I scrambled to put together a short but pithy statement that the Mayor could read to the newspapers. Not only was the ship sinking, I had the feeling I was going down with it. In the pr business, this is called “crisis management”. I knew it was a crisis, but I didn’t have a clue how to manage it.
It was a bad week, public relations-wise, for the City of North Miami. Actually, it was a pretty lousy couple of months. The City Manager was convicted of a whole laundry list of crimes; the Recreation Director, who was also my best friend at City Hall, turned out to be the bag man for the operation, and half the council quietly resigned. It was not the City’s finest hour and I didn’t get much sleep, but I did learn that the best way to handle the press in the midst of a real crisis is to be as honest and forthcoming as possible.
It’s all about credibility. Obviously, Obama’s press chief has learned that lesson well. I’m not comparing little old North Miami’s problems with the Office of the President, but I sure could relate to that look on Bob Gibbs’ face..
# # # #.
Photo caption: That is obviously not me at the podium, folks!
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