Media Orchard, by the Idea Grove

Before I started the Idea Grove, I was a senior corporate communications executive for billion-dollar companies. I’ve led public relations campaigns of all sizes and budgets, and I know how important it is to select the right PR firm during the agency review process.

That’s why I’ve created a simple assessment tool to help companies make the right decision — and avoid common mistakes.

From my experience, the most common mistake is to fall for a slick agency presentation without fully understanding one or more of the following: (1) the agency’s specific qualifications; (2) how the agency will prioritize the company relative to other clients; (3) how the agency will charge for its services; (4) whether the agency will be a good personality fit.

Many PR firms are downright spectacular during the agency review process, but just mediocre once they’re a few months into the engagement. This is because large firms, in particular, win new clients through the sales efforts of senior executives — but then make a junior staffer the primary contact on the account.

With that in mind, I recommend that corporate communicators conducting agency reviews ask themselves the following 25 questions –- comparing PR firms across the categories of Qualifications, Prioritization, Cost-Efficiency, and Compatibility — before making a decision:

Qualifications: Can the Agency Do the Work?

1. During our discussions, has the agency demonstrated a good general understanding of my industry?
2. During our discussions, have agency representatives listened well and done their homework to gain a grasp of my company’s specific goals and challenges?
3. Does the agency seem to have sufficient personnel and breadth of expertise to meet my needs?
4. Does the agency have case studies that demonstrate success with similar clients and/or projects of similar scope?
5. Has the agency provided enthusiastic client references?
6. Do representatives of the agency seem intelligent and creative?
7. Have representatives of the agency suggested good ideas that I had not previously considered?
8. Do representatives of the agency seem passionate about what they do?

Prioritization: Will I Be Valued as a Client?

9. During the review process, has the agency been prompt in returning my phone calls and responding specifically to my information requests?
10. Has the agency been straightforward in identifying the individual who will be my primary, day-to-day contact person?
11. Does my primary contact have a sufficient level of relevant experience?
12. Has my primary contact taken a prominent role in meetings during the review process?
13. Has my primary contact personally serviced some of the client accounts cited by the agency in case studies and client references?
14. Does my primary contact have the authority to offer advice and make decisions when I need them quickly?

Cost-Efficiency: Will I Get My Money’s Worth?

15. In creating a proposal, do agency representatives focus on meeting my needs – or do they ask, “What’s your budget?” and deliver a plan that absorbs all available dollars?
16. Is the agency straightforward in discussing how it bills for its work?
17. If the agency bills by the hour, does it openly share the specific billing rates of its individual employees?
18. Do the agency’s billing rates seem reasonable compared to other firms?
19. Do the agency’s client references vouch for the agency’s flexibility and fairness in billing?

Compatibility: Will the Agency Be a Good Partner?

20. Is the personality of my primary, day-to-day contact a good fit with mine?
21. Do agency representatives communicate freely and easily with my company’s employees in meetings?
22. When asked their opinion, do representatives of the agency say what they think – not just what I want to hear?
23. Do the agency’s recommended tactics seem honest and ethical?
24. If the firm serves other companies in my industry, are agency representatives forthcoming in discussing any possible conflicts of interest?
25. Does my gut tell me the agency is promising what it can actually deliver — and not exaggerating simply to get my business?

I’ve organized this assessment tool as a printable PDF score sheet, designed for easy comparison of competing agencies. Download it here.

Eight Warning Signs That a Reporter Plans to Flip the Script

Orchardo — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 14:42:59 +0000

I love journalists. Heck, I used to be a pretty good newspaperman myself, and the blogosphere has given me a chance to dabble in the discipline of journalism again here and there. I also work daily to convince CEOs who are suspicious of the media (is there any other kind?) that most journalists do their jobs with integrity. I annoy my corporate clients when I tell them what I believe: that you’ll hear more heartfelt discussion of ethical questions in a newsroom than you’ll ever hear in a boardroom.

Having stipulated all that, let’s be real: Reporters are known to occasionally flip the script on their subjects.

By “flip the script,” I mean they sometimes will give you the distinct impression they are writing something that will flatter you or otherwise serve your interests — when all along they’re planning to eviscerate you with the spiral binding on their reporter’s notebook.

Is this ethical? Let’s just say I’ve known reporters who feel bad about doing it. But frankly, it’s a necessary part of good journalism. A classic example is brilliantly portrayed in the 2005 film Capote. In the movie, author Truman Capote struggles with his deception of killer Perry Smith; the scene where he refuses to admit to Smith that his book is called “In Cold Blood” is painful to watch.

Was Capote’s behavior wrong? You tell me — but it resulted in the greatest nonfiction book of the 20th century.

I’m no saint; I’ve done it myself. In fact, I won an award from the Associated Press Managing Editors of Texas the time I did it to televangelist Robert Tilton. Tilton was riding high and making millions when I talked with him in 1990. He hadn’t done a media interview in years, and he chose me because he was convinced I was a naive kid who would buy the snake oil he was selling. I never lied to him — but I also never said a word to disabuse him of the notion that I was that naive kid. My story was the beginning of the end of his ministry.

Of course, day-to-day examples of flipping the script aren’t always this heroic. Sometimes people just get screwed.

So, as you prepare your CEO for that next big interview with the news media, what are the warning signs that a reporter plans to flip the script on you? Here are eight of them:

1. The journalist is vague about the story angle.

Reporters don’t call you unless they have a pretty good idea what they’re going to write about. For example, they might want to profile you as a fast-growing company in your industry, or they might want your take on a specific trend or controversy. If you ask them their angle and they mumble something that doesn’t sound like a focused story idea, it might be because their real angle is that they think your CEO is a crook.

2. The journalist has a history of hard-hitting reporting or pointed commentary.

After being contacted by a reporter you don’t know, the first thing you should do is Google them to see what kind of stuff they write. If you go through a half-dozen CEO profiles and find one coronation and five eviscerations, those probably approximate your odds.

3. The media outlet typically does not have nice things to say about people like you.

Be mindful of the slant of the publication. For example, alternative weeklies traditionally take an anti-business approach. Unless you’re an upstart entrepreneur who is doing something disruptive to the status quo, this kind of outlet may not be for you. More and more mainstream media outlets are falling into political camps as well; if you’re a non-profit organization dedicated to reducing carbon emissions or saving lab rats, don’t go on Fox News unless you want your cause ridiculed before a national audience.

4. A competing media outlet has just said something nice about you.

Reporters hate getting beat on a story. They also hate doing the same story someone else just did. So if you’ve been the subject of some laudatory coverage, you’re eventually going to meet up with a reporter who wants to knock you off your high horse. Be prepared.

5. The journalist is reluctant to tell you who else has been interviewed for the story.

You can learn a lot by asking a reporter who else he or she has interviewed for the story. For example, if the reporter has prepared for the upcoming meeting with your CEO by talking to a bitter business rival or even-more-bitter ex-wife, you might be in for a bumpy ride. If a reporter hems and haws when you ask the question, that might be all the answer you need.

6. The journalist is uncomfortable when asked his or her point of view.

It’s often useful to ask the reporter his or her point of view on a controversial issue. Many reporters share their perspectives freely when their opinions are neutral or in alignment with yours. When they think you’re full of it, on the other hand, they tend to ramble on about objectivity and how the “story is about you, not me.” If they start talking like that, you’re probably toast.

7. The journalist gives nonverbal clues that suggest deception.

The general clues people use to determine if someone is being deceptive (microexpressions, for example) are helpful in a face-to-face interview. When reporters are distant, make little eye contact, and seem overly protective of what they’ve written in their notebook, you might be in trouble.

8. The journalist makes it apparent that he or she has already done ALL of the reporting for the story — except for talking to your CEO.

You’re dead meat now. The reporter has lined up everything and just wants to fire away at you — “I’ve discovered this document in your trash; I have the chatroom transcript; I talked to your mother-in-law; what’s your response?” Duck and cover.

Even if you strongly suspect a journalist is planning to flip the script on you, that doesn’t mean you should respond with a “no comment.” In fact, you still need to provide the reporter with information and, in many cases, the CEO should go ahead with the interview.

But you’d better go into it ready — focused for battle, talking points down cold, with both guns blazing. And record the conversation.

[This post is also at MarketingProfs.]

[This post is a Media Orchard classic.]

The Limits of Improvisation

Orchardo — Mon, 17 Aug 2009 15:27:02 +0000

As a former newspaper reporter who later became the head of large corporate communications departments, I’ve had the opportunity to work closely with both photojournalists and corporate assignment photographers. And while many of the best assignment photographers I’ve worked with have also been photojournalists, I’ve found that some photojournalists don’t make the transition to corporate work very well.

There are a couple of reasons for this. In many cases, it’s an attitude thing. Just as many former newspaper scribes can’t make the jump to PR because they don’t like the profession, so many ex-newspaper photographers can’t transition successfully to corporate work because they can’t get passionate about it. And in creative endeavors, a lack of passion typically leads to subpar work and, ultimately, failure.

A second reason, which I’ve seen trip up more than a few former newspaper photographers, is an underemphasis on advance preparation for shoots.

The Art of Reacting

The best photojournalism is improvisational. It’s about capturing life as it is — the art of reacting. As photographer Mark Meyer puts it so well:

…street photography and photojournalism are essentially improvisational. Rather than improvising as a performer, the photojournalist is an improvisational audience. Rather than creating a work over time, they develop the art of seeing and capturing the moment as it happens. The skills required to do this well are similar to those of the performing improviser.

Many photojournalists — particularly newspaper staffers — are used to being sent out on an assignment and then quickly figuring out how to capture the moment. They show up at a plane crash or a city council meeting and have to come back with an image for the next day’s edition. Even on feature assignments, there’s often not a lot of time for advance preparation.

Unfortunately, that improvisational approach doesn’t always help on a corporate assignment — and can sometimes be “notably unhelpful,” as Donald Rumsfeld used to say in his cranky press conferences.

The Discipline of Preparing

I once produced an annual report in which the primary art was a series of photographs depicting my company’s employees posing alongside customers for whom they had gone the extra mile. One of the photos was to be shot in front of a firehouse, with a group of smiling firefighters standing with one of my company’s sales directors.

Since customers were involved, I decided to attend each of the shoots, which took place in various cities across the country. In the case of the firefighter shoot, I flew to meet the photographer and art director at the location at the appointed time.

I saw a group of men standing next to a firetruck in front of a firehouse — sweating profusely. The shoot had been scheduled at a time when the afternoon sun was beating down directly on the men’s faces, making the experience awkward for all involved. But because of the fire station’s placement, there was no other angle from which the photographer could get the shot.

No amount of retouching could completely repair the resulting images — or erase the forced smiles on the subjects’ faces.

This wasn’t bad luck. It wasn’t bad improvisation, either.

It was lack of preparation.

Vetting for the Right Kind of Experience

Corporate photography is different from spot photojournalism because of the amount of coordination that must be done in advance for shoots. For a photojournalist to make a successful transition to assignment work, he or she must learn the discipline of preparing for every conceivable thing that could go wrong on an assignment.

Many photojournalists have no problem with this — having done fashion, food and other kinds of staged shoots that require significant preparation. Others, however, have spent the bulk of their careers chasing down spot news and quick-turnaround features — and these are the photographers a corporate client should take a close look at before entrusting with assignment work.

In the case of the fire station shoot, if I could have done it over again, I would have requested to see the photographer’s resume and portfolio in advance, rather than simply leaving it to my design firm’s art director to make the hire. I would have ensured that the photographer had plenty of experience scheduling and organizing shoots of this kind.

Because, ultimately, when the shoot didn’t turn out as well as it should have, I was the one who had to answer to the sweating customers, the embarrassed sales director — and the disappointed CEO.

[A version of this post originally appeared at Black Star Rising.]

The Case Against Morally Superior Journalists

Orchardo — Wed, 12 Aug 2009 15:18:14 +0000

I love journalism, and I respect and admire the work of journalists. I also know, in this era of angry bloggers, that so-called MSM (mainstream media) journalists take more unfair crap than just about any profession — with the possible exception of contingency attorneys.

That said, there is one thing I don’t like, and have never liked, about some journalists. I don’t like the way they treat public relations practitioners.

I’ve been on both sides of the journalist/PR pro relationship, so let’s start with a confession. When I was a reporter, I was often rude to PR people. I treated them alternately as annoying telemarketers (when they pitched me a story) or slavish assistants (when I deigned to write about their companies.)

One incident in particular still elicits pangs of guilt. A PR person representing a large Dallas church invited me to interview one of his denomination’s national leaders. He called me several times, and was nice enough, and so I finally relented and agreed to do the interview.

But then something came up that day and I forgot all about the appointment. At the end of the day, when I checked my voicemail, I had an angry message from the PR guy. He kept calling until he was able to reach me on my phone to tell me how unprofessional I’d been, and how embarrassed he’d been sitting there, with this national religious figure staring at him, waiting for me to show up.

What I feel most guilty about today is my reaction to his call. I was apologetic on the phone with him, but when I got off my first thought was, “Well, I’m never dealing with that guy again. What a jerk!”

Of course, I was being the jerk. But I was so accustomed to PR people who quietly endured my arrogance that I mistook his aggrievement for hubris.

The Power of Karma

I believe in karma now, because the same thing happened to me a year after I started in PR. I had just taken a mid-level corporate job and had arranged several interviews with the CEO at a trade show. The CEO and I sat in a 10-by-10 room with empty white walls and a small white table, waiting for the first reporter to show. He never did. As I fumbled with my cell phone and developed flop-sweat, the CEO stared at me. (I believe the reporter acknowledged a “scheduling conflict” in an e-mail to me a week or so later.)

OK, I deserved that one. But what I didn’t deserve was the “calling out” I got from an erstwhile journalistic colleague a few years ago. I was working in corporate communications, she was still a journalist, and she was writing a story about a controversy involving my company.

The conversation went like this: She asked me a question, and I told her my company’s point of view on the issue. She didn’t agree with this viewpoint; furthermore, she didn’t believe that I agreed with it, and blurted out the following:

“Scott, you’ve sold your soul!”

Notwithstanding the utter lack of comprehension of what PR people do — i.e., we represent our employers or clients, not ourselves — this former colleague’s comment goes to the heart of what bothers me about some journalists. Put simply, they think they are better — that their jobs have a higher moral and ethical purpose than that of the lowly PR practitioner.

I have always found this ironic (and on a handful of occasions like the one above, infuriating) because I left journalism for three reasons. One, I was burnt out. Two, I wanted to earn a decent living. And three, I did not like some of the moral and ethical situations I was put in as a journalist.

Making Compromises

I didn’t intend for this post to turn into Moby Dick, so I’ll close with three examples of these moral and ethical situations:

1. Reporters routinely kiss up to interview subjects in order to get their story. This is particularly questionable when the reporter already knows that he’s going to write something negative about his interview subject. A great example of how this dance works is “Anatomy of a New York Times Article,” a blog post by Mark Cuban. Reading the e-mail trail reminded me of some of my own past sins; it made me a little queasy.

2. One of my last assignments as a journalist was to write a story about the Dallas school system. The publication’s editor had gotten a lead on a “conspiracy” of sorts within DISD, and asked me to talk with his sources and write the story. I talked to his sources; there was no conspiracy, or at least not one that could be in any way proven. But the editor insisted that I wasn’t “digging hard enough.” I relented and gave him the slanted, sensational story that he wanted. I felt sick afterwards.

3. Reporters are often required to knock on the doors of people whose loved ones have just died — often violently and unexpectedly. Although there is usually no legitimate purpose for this other than to sell newspapers or earn ratings points, journalists wrap themselves in pretzels to find the “higher purpose” in this practice. Let me explain why you’re wrapping yourselves in pretzels: there is no higher purpose.

These elements of the reporter’s life never felt right to me; they weren’t right, by my moral and ethical standards.

That said, I would never attempt to take the moral high ground with a journalist, because I know that ultimately we’re all just people, doing the best we can. We make the compromises we can live with.