My boss called me a diva this afternoon. If I'm going to be a diva, today, I'd like to be this diva (and I'm not ever sure who she is). In reality, I felt a lot like the guy from "Network," who loses it and goes on a "I'm mad as hell" rant.
Okay, I felt a little like Joe Pesci or Robin Williams in one of those Snickers commercials, too.
Anyway, she called me a diva. Normally, I like to think that I define calm when it comes to managing stress and deadlines. But today, I was a mad as hell. The situation doesn't matter much except that I thought one co-worker was being grossly (and obliviously) disrepectful to another, to the point where I found myself across my boss' desk and letting loose with uncharacteristic, some-made-up profanity in describing the offender.
So, if I'm going to be a diva today, I want to be well-armed with a cold-blooded, decision-made face and really cool red gloves.
I say all this because I am impressed with the public relations professionals who maintain calm in the most stressful situations, including (unlike me) when others in their charge are unfairly treated. It's no wonder that The Huffington Post named "public relations" as #7 on its list of the 10 Most Stressful Jobs of 2012.
The Public Relations Society of America (PRSA), in the October 21, 2011 edition of The Public Relations Strategist, discussed the more stressful issues affecting public relations professionals.They ranged from "the internal need to act thoughtfully and strategically and the external pressures of the media’s never-ending news cycle" to the client's reluctance to share information and, as you might guess, the absence of a well-prepared crisis communications plan.
PRSA offers stress management tips in four categories: preparation, teamwork, perspective and practice. As the article explains its tips, it features commentary from public relations professionals. Here are my favorites:
Preparation
"Writing from Afghanistan, Air Force Technical Sergeant Michael Andriacco serves as regional support command, north public affairs officer. 'The best way for me to manage crisis-related stress is to have confidence in the groundwork I’ve laid with my superiors as well as the media and public,' he said.'Without the foundation, my stress would be much higher.'”
Teamwork
"Monica Carazo, communications officer for the Los Angeles Unified School District, offered, 'My crises usually deal with life-and-death situations of students. To lessen the stress, each department member has assigned duties. One PIO talks to the parents. Another takes calls from the field. A third PIO writes media statements'.”
Perspective (my #1 favorite)
"As a former public affairs officer for the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration and National Transportation Safety Board, Phil Frame was responsible for communications during plane crashes and an Amtrak derailment. 'Keep your perspective,' he said. 'I knew there was nothing I could do to bring the victims back to life. My role was to help prevent the next disaster from occurring.' Touching on the importance of planning, Frame, now president of Outcome Assurance Corp in Detroit, added, 'Use your brain, your crisis plan and your instincts to make decisions, not emotions.'”
Practice
"Medical experts caution that extreme stress can lead to an inability to think clearly, headaches and irritability, sometimes resulting in serious health issues. Exercise, get enough rest and remember to eat. Consider taking a break when the crisis is over ... Barbara Kerr, APR, executive director of communications and marketing for Clark College in Vancouver, concluded, 'Remember that this too shall pass. If time allows, then I do crossword puzzles or Sudoku to think about something else . . . while eating dark chocolate.'”
As for me, I'm going shopping for a pair of red gloves and practicing that special "your time is up" stare. Not really the one at the top of the page, but this one (click on photo for theme music):
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I cry at high school football games. More specifically, when the announcer asks everyone to stand, the drums start their buzz roll and a couple of beats later, the rest of band launches into the Star-Spangled Banner. Hand over my heart, feeling my pulse kick up a few beats and, on rare-breeze Friday nights, my eyes focus on the fluttering Stars and Stripes. And then the lip-biting starts ... anything to contain the tears.
Sound like I'm a zealous Yankee Doodle patriot? No, not really.
The tears started September 15, 2001, the first Keller ISD high school football game following the 9/11 attacks on the New York's Twin Towers. I was the Communications Specialist in Keller ISD and that game capped a week of on-the-fly crisis communications.
I don't remember who won the game or even who played, but the chaos and fear on that Tuesday morning, among other things, prompted do-we-play-the-games discussions that must've burned up phone lines among administrators and school board members and probably among school districts across the United States. Do we protect our children? Is it too much to expect students to focus on athletics and arts when they're scared and grieving? Is it safe? Should we have large gatherings in contained areas? Will anybody show up?
Keller ISD had an incredible emergency action and crisis communication plan. It was in place when I started with the district late in 2000. I'm sure the 1999 school shootings at Columbine High School added a few pages to the plan, and I know that the shootings at Fort Worth's Wedgewood Baptist Church later that year (a helluva year) prompted collaborations among school districts to share counseling and communications resources. The church shooting affected a huge number of students, and attracted unprecedented, international media attention that drained Fort Worth ISD's limited resources.
The plan was beautiful. Well-conceived and refined with professional input from counselors and emergency responders. Multi-colored with tabbed pages clearly labeled so that school personnel could easily find and implement an effective and approved response to every imaginable school crisis.
And then the unimaginable happened. Hijacked airliners torpedoed the World Trade Center, and the United States was at war. More importantly, the parents in our community and the kids in our schools were scared.
Driving to work on September 11, I heard on the radio about a plane crashing into the World Trade Center in New York City. I remembered a story my dad had told me about a plane hitting the Empire State Building in the '40s, and my initial thought was "what kind of fool can't avoid a building that big nowadays?"
The rest of the morning is a blur.
An American Airlines jet (Dallas/Fort Worth is the home of American Airlines, and Keller ISD is home to many of its employees) was hijacked and crashed into the World Trade Center. No, two planes have hit both Towers. What? Another plane has crashed in Pennsylvania and another into the Pentagon.
Parents want to pick up their kids. Are we releasing kids? Channel 5 wants to know if schools are closing. The Star-Telegram is asking how we're protecting students. Do we have a statement for the media? Do we allow teachers to turn on their classroom TVs? This is history. What grades can watch the news coverage? What about the kids with parents who work for the airlines? What about employees with family members who work for the airlines? How do we let our campus personnel know what's going on? How do we communicate with parents? Are we having school tomorrow?
Email communications with parents was in its tween years, and the district's website was still in its infancy. Text messaging as mass communications was ... well, never mind. The only guy who knew how to post information on the website wanted to leave and pick up his kids. What do we want to say? Have to say? Who do we say it to, and how do we say it to them?
Fortunately, Keller ISD was blessed with an incredibly talented (and calm), media-savvy Communications Director, a district administration that had full confidence in her judgment, and campus administrators and teachers who were thoroughly trained and could take the existing crisis plan and apply it intelligently, as needed, then wait for further instruction from the superintendent.
So, back to the football game ...
Everybody showed up. I don't remember much about that evening except that the stands were full. Keller ISD's administration, like so many school districts, colleges and pro sports, recognized that the best way to help young people -- okay, just about everybody -- get through this crisis was to keep life as normal as possible. Kids and families needed to be there, needed the comfort of familiarity and the nearness of friends.
I drafted the "message." What was appropriate in a public school setting? Who do we call on for comfort and grief? Who do we offend if we ask for God's loving hand, and who do we offend if we don't? Do I remember? Of course not.
I stood at the top of the bleachers and ticked each step of our pre-game ceremonies off our checklist. It was a breezy night. The flags unfurled. Hand over heart. The drumroll started ... two beats ... the rest of the band joined in.
And then the dam broke. I've cried at every high school football game since.
Follow me on Twitter: @FWgib
