Crisis Communication: On a more personal note

I’d like to preface this blog post with this: I realize that if this blog were my child, it would have been taken away for neglect. I’ll be writing a blog about what’s been taking up all my time tomorrow but until then, fellow FPRA-er Lauren Novo has been kind enough to write the following blog post. Thanks Lauren, for feeding my malnourished child, metaphorically speaking of course. Check out her (regularly updated) blog here.

PR professionals are taught to hope for the best but to prepare for the worst; to always have a plan of action ready in the event of a disaster. It’s called a crisis communication plan, and every pro should have one.

Last week, on an FRPA (Florida Public Relations Association) student trip, I found myself in an undesirable situation and couldn’t help but wish I had a crisis communication plan of my own. The three day trip promised to be an informative and insightful look at some top industry leaders of the Orlando area; we were to visit a local PR firm, the Florida Hospital, Darden Restaurants, Orlando Magic and Universal Studios. Needless to say, I was stoked.

Never did I anticipate being sick for most of it. The runny nose and sore throat were at the forefront of my immune system failure. By the time I was headed to Orlando, my body was full of various over-the-counter medicines, none of which had any effect. On day one of meetings, my eyes were still completely red.

I don’t consider myself a vain person, but I don’t leave home in glasses. Ever. They are neither trendy nor the correct prescription, so wearing them on what was supposed to be a professional outing was downright horrifying. My lackluster look was the least of my concerns, however. My eyes, sporting a new “bloodshot” appearance, twitched at bright lights and became teary at virtually everything.

At a typical professional event, I enjoy asking the speaker relevant questions, introducing myself and at the very least, making eye contact during the presentation. That simply wasn’t going to happen in Orlando. In my one attempt to ask a question, the speaker gave a thoughtful, in-depth response and thought I was crying by the end of it. Humiliating? Yes.

My experience was no fortune 500 crisis, but it affected me negatively nonetheless.  I didn’t want to leave an impression as a bloody-eyed, disease-ridden individual who couldn’t contain her sniffles. In the end, it just seemed best to learn as much as possible and stay under the radar.

But what would you have done? Do you have a personal crisis communication plan of your own when things don’t go as planned? What if this had happened during a crucial interview? Or during a presentation that you were giving? Sometimes, I think we just have to do the best with the hand we’ve been dealt. But maybe there’s a secret, and if so, I’d love you to share.

G-Day, The end of life as we know it

Disclaimer: This entry is not meant to tell students what to do, but to compile opinions on the matter in one place for easy referencing.

It’s safe to say that many of us consider college to be some of the best years of our short lives, or at least the most notable learning experience to date (and I’m not talking about the stuff you learn in a classroom). You may have learned exactly how hard you can party while still maintaining good grades, or what you do/don’t want in a boy/girlfriend, or even how hard it is to clean cake batter stains off a wall (I know I have). Then one day it hits you: graduation, G-Day, is around the corner bringing the end of life as you know it. Your college-loving self is about to get tossed into the real world, and you have no idea what to do or where to start.

As a PR student, the choice is even tougher. Those Pre-Med kids know they’re going to med school, and the fashion merchandising students are going to find experience, but what does a PR student do? Our future isn’t a set list we can check off or a certain path to follow. It’s actually a huge debate in our industry whether to seek experience or education. So you continue to walk around asking others for opinions, only to find that everyone else is just as unsure. On top of that, you find out that PR professionals also have different views about whether students should apply to grad school or a job immediately after G-Day.

So, with the help of Allison Fogt, FPRA Student/Capital Chapter Liaison, I asked PR pros for their opinions on the Go to Grad School vs. Get Experience question that plagues us all. It’s hard to keep the pros, cons and opinions about each option straight, so I hope finding the following in one place will be helpful to everyone:

I collected the responses via Twitter and September’s #PRStudChat and put them in two categories:

1. Why go to graduate school:

• Because of the bad economy, many people looking for jobs already have experience.
• It’s important to educate yourself.
• It may set your resume apart from those who have not attended.
• A Master’s degree is versatile, the skills learned may be more broad than the ones learned while in undergrad (i.e. Bachelor’s in Public Relations vs. Master’s in Integrated Marketing Communication).
• Some employers prefer applicants who have further education.

2. Why get experience:

• The world is changing so quickly, school curriculum may not keep up with field experiences.
• Experience is education, getting your APR for example, involves both education and experience.
• In this economy, some employers may not be willing to pay more for an applicant with an advanced degree (if they do), so they may be looking to hire based on experiences.
• Some employers want to know more than that you’ve learned the material; they want to know how you use it.

And now, for the best advice of all: Remember that the right answer is what’s right for you. Different things work for different people.

Good luck in whatever you decide to do!

* I’d like to thank Allison (@thePRmaven) for helping me get answers via Twitter and all the PR pros who answered.

The Big Pond: I’ve Arrived

I was so nervous the night before. I couldn’t stop “What-If-icating” (a word I JUST made up for this blog post).

• What if I fail at my NYC internship?
• What if I get kidnapped (a somewhat irrational fear brought on by my mother’s craziness)
• What if I don’t make friends and I spend all summer sitting around in the greatest city in the world?

I couldn’t sleep and required a little talking down. I stayed on the phone with my (soon-to-be ex) boyfriend, who calmed me down from 2-5am. He probably would have spent more time calming me down, but my plane left at 9:30am, which in my mother’s obsessive, always-anxious eyes meant she should drive me to Tampa International at 6am.

I boarded the plane, exited two and a half hours later and followed the other passengers to the baggage claim. Now that I had my bags, all I had to do was step out of LaGuardia’s doors and step in to New York City. For lack of better, strong enough wording, as I took that step out I felt like someone had just thrown a brick at my head for several reasons.

1. I already get slightly anxious going places I’m not familiar with, even if it’s just a place I haven’t been in a city I’ve lived in for 13 years.
2. I grew up in Tampa, Fla. – No Podunk, USA, but no New York City either.

I then jumped in the first form of transportation I saw, a.k.a. an overpriced car service, and made my way towards 25 Union Square West, the address of New York University’s Carlyle Hall, my place of residence for the next ten weeks.

I checked in and couldn’t find my room, an experience I choose to blame on poor instructions, but secretly know was due to the fact that I wasn’t listening to the woman who directed me. Regardless, I eventually found my room and was greeted by two perfect-looking, weirdly friendly people: my room mate, Jenna, and her mother.

We made friendly small talk as she informed me that our two other room mates, her friends, would arrive shortly. It was one of the most awkward moments of my life. While her mom stared at me with somewhat disapproving eyes, shocked that I was moving in sans parents and had no friends in the city, Jenna tried to figure me out. I’m not a weird person, but I’m sure I certainly looked so to Jenna; we couldn’t be more different. Jenna’s hair was light and pin straight. She wore natural looking makeup, a little eyeliner and rosy cheeks that matched her Lily Pulitzer collared shirt, flowy white skirt and popular Steve Madden sandals well. I faced her with my dark, almost black hair, exaggerated black eyeshadow, bright yellow cardigan, white v-neck, Married To The Mob black denim and Vans Authentics. I’m sure we were a funny sight to outsiders.

Just as a note, the two other girls that would eventually move in were just like Jenna. They were beyond rich, spent most of their weekends in the Hamptons, and had a few hundred dollars worth of weed and Xanex on them at all times. We didn’t get along, but not because we dressed differently or had different interests, but due to statements like “Yeah the bathrooms dirty, but my nanny cleans it at home.” Needless to say, you won’t be hearing any more about these roomies because in ten weeks, we exchanged only a handful of words.

In a rush for a room that didn’t seem to be judging me, I left Carlyle and wandered around using the excuse of needing some essentials. Let me just start with a thank you to whomever decided to number streets for providing the sole reason for me not becoming hopelessly lost. I walked the NYC streets in search of a place to buy toiletries, a search I wasn’t too invested in as I walked the city for several hours before buying anything, despite the grocery store about 200 feet from the hall. I’d already fallen in love with the city. Musicians played their instruments in either desperate hope to earn a dollar, or a desperate need to change the world through art. Bums roamed the street in vests made out of soda can pop tops with signs like “Obama promised change, where’s mine?” Vendors set up tables that NYC residents walked right past, and visitors stared at secretly knowing that $15 was too much for a string bracelet, but spent the money anyways as if New York City string was more valuable than the rest. Buildings were tall, old and historical and hundreds or thousands of people busily walked the street for whatever reasons. I walked for hours before returning to my dorm, where I found Union Square Park, amid all the craziness, a place I would spend many nights as somewhat of a haven from the gritty hustle of life in NYC.

It was a perfect walk on the perfect day in what, in my opinion, is the perfect city, but the next day I would begin my internship – an experience so far from that first day perfection.

The Big Pond: How I Got There

I grew up praying I would open my eyes the next day, and realize I’d become stupid or sick. I know that sounds aweful and I know I’m blessed that I’m neither, but hear me out. I’ve never needed help in school, never been in (serious) trouble, and never been sick besides a perpetual tonsil problem. I was that kid parent’s dream of raising, which is all well and good except for one little problem: Erin, my evil twin (no, seriously).

Being a good kid is great, except when your twin is not as smart, not as well tempered or adjusted and not as healthy (Do I sound resentful? Because I probably am) as you are. It’s tough to get no attention for your accomplishments because your parents are busy teaching, taking care of or disciplining the other kid.

Now don’t get me wrong, this is no “woe is me” story, nor is it meant to evoke sympathy, not that it would. I’m fully aware that my life has been pretty great, but understanding the past is necessary to understanding how I ended up where I did this summer.

Despite applying to different colleges, Erin and I both ended up at Florida State University, she as a Psychology major and I as Political Science. Five majors and a hundred career plans later, I ended up as a Public Relations major. My sister, on the other hand, ended up as an English major, but her changes were not intentional like mine but forced because her GPA wasn’t high enough to continue in Psychology.

To understand the decision I was about to make, there are three things you should know about Florida State University*:

1. The school is gorgeous, straight out of a movie
2. Despite their diversity statistics, every student who goes here is the same
3. It’s located in Tallahassee, lamest city in the world. Four years into FSU, you are left with the same experiences you had the first.

*I know a couple of those statements are a little harsh, but this is my blog so I can be as biased as I want.

For reasons #2 and #3, I needed to get out. I’ve always considered myself a “big city” kind of girl, despite never having lived in one. I’m art addicted, theatre obsessed, and interested in all cultures besides my own. I’m a music junkie, subculture enthusiast, and have long been able to find beauty in decay. I’m that girl who walks around wearing off the wall accessories about which people comment “OMG I love that, but I could never pull that off,” while I secretly think about how I’m no more apt to pull things off, but merely have the nerve. To sum it up, I’m no Tallahassee girl.

I finally figured out by my Junior year that the time for change was now, and not just because Obama’s posters told me so EVERYWHERE I went. So May 31, 2009 I boarded a plane.

[To be continued, except I'm at work and am clearly not doing any]

A Real Gangster

“Why kill you when I can just not teach you and get the same results?”

- A Real Gangster by Lupe Fiasco

Want to talk about a PR problem?

Let’s talk about the whole city of Chicago, besides its obviously larger problems (violence, black on black crime, taping the beating rather than trying to stop it).

A video has never made me as sick or as sad as the video of Derrion Albert’s beating.

Annie Needs a Job: Day 1

I’m so sick. I called my parents yesterday to tell them my fever was up to 101.5 last night, and though it’s down right now, my dad had the nerve to call me this morning and ask about my job search. This is the same job search I’ve been telling him I started a month and a half ago, but I’ll let you in on a little secret: I lied. So today, while I do nothing but lay in bed with a huge bottle of gatorade, I begin Step 1 of my job search, well, kind of step 0.5 because this step doesn’t actually involve looking for jobs.

Step 0.5:

• Update resume and portfolio
• Update my profiles on websites I’m signed up for
• Take down inappropriate pictures/tweets (if there are any).
• E-mail a couple people for references
• Tell dad I’m 20 steps ahead of this

Deadline: January 2010 (I graduate Dec. 12, 2009)

The Down Side of the Internet

The fact that what my friend, Mauricio, said in a G-chat is true = the internet’s secret evil side.

WANTED:

The Internet, relationship serial killer.

PR Student Social Networking

I was online looking for some information about finding a job (I graduate in three months and my parents are on my case) and found the following:

Tips for getting the most from your social networking experience:

• PROpenMic.org – This social networking site is about a year and a half old and has a little over 5,000 members – PR students, faculty and professionals. It seems like it may be useful, so I’m going to sign-up, give it a test drive and let you know how it goes.
• LinkedIn.com - A site for professional networking. On this site, users connect with others in their industry, keep a profile that can function as a resume and can ask for and give professional recommendations to collegues.
• The usual suspects: Twitter and Facebook – Employers will check these to find out more information about you. You have been warned.
• What NOT to do on your social network:

1. Leave your profile empty or generic
2. Put up generic, inappropriate, inanimate or group pictures as your default
3. Protect your Twitter updates
4. Tweet things you don’t want your potential boss to know (but you can be casual)

• What you SHOULD do:

1. Include relevant keywords: PR, planning, media, etc…
2. Link to other social networks your on
3. Include the type of position your looking for and where
4. Customize your URL
5. Update frequently
6. Involve yourself in relevant conversations (or nobody will know who you are, defeating social networking’s purpose).

Definitely some things in there that graduating PR students (and all of you who have Twitter but don’t update or personalize it) should know during that job search.

Guilty

I’ve been reading a few books lately in my spare time, and as such have not been blogging – a chronic problem I’ve had since starting this blog. I know, I know, I’m breaking blog rule #1: blog frequently, but it’s tough. I’m working, interning and taking classes, AND I need to find a job by the time I graduate in December 2009.

So today starts Day 1 of my new “Blog at least three times a week or don’t bother having a blog” plan. (Catchy name, huh?)

As of today, my blog will consist of two types of entries:

• Those relevant to the industry I hope to find a job in, public relations.
• Those describing my failures, (hopefully) successes and funny experiences job searching in the supposedly hopeless state of the economy. 

The “Balttawodbhab” plan will take effect later today.