Tweets I Never Sent, Revealed

See that tweet in the graphic? I didn’t send that today.

It pokes fun at journalists, and I work with journalists for a living. In fact, I admire them a great deal IRL. (Let’s keep that a secret, though.)

Just like PR pros, journalists are usually smart, busy and underappreciated… with jobs that depend on their reputations.

So I paused, hit delete and lived to tweet another day. (I'm @bvar, by the way.)

Less than 140 characters isn’t always a great conduit for nuance – or humor. At least not in the hands of non-comedians.

This brings to mind a non-tweet from a few years ago, when my colleagues at the Verizon Foundation gave me a big, re-useable check so that I could participate in a photo op with a New Jersey non-profit where I was a board member. We had submitted, and been approved for, a $5,000 grant to support a program that helped kids in foster homes as a result of domestic violence.

The prop check was sitting in my office a few days later, when I put the finishing touches on a press release about Verizon’s buyout of Vodafone’s 45% interest in Verizon Wireless. The total cost would be $130 billion.

I used a dry eraser to wipe away “$5,000” and replace it with “$130,000,000,000.” I was about to replace “CASA for Children of Bergen County” with “Vodafone” – thinking about the photo I could tweet – when I paused.

I thought, “This is a very big deal for these two companies… for their shareowners… for the large retirement funds and pension plans that hold stock here.” It’s the kind of money that has impact on jobs created, taxes paid, new product development, infrastructure investment, philanthropy.

My efforts were better spent finishing the press release than staging a snarky photo. It’s all well and good to be authentic and irreverent, until someone gets hurt.

The other day, I happened to be carrying a tray of cookies (having volunteered to supply “snacks” the next time I called a late-morning team meeting) while news stories were being written about what others were calling Verizon’s use of cookies in Internet advertising programs.

A tweetable photo of a plate of Verizon cookies? How authentic! How irreverent! How of-the-moment!

Pause.

No! The issue does not actually involve “cookies,” for starters. So maybe my efforts would better spent helping to explain this to journalists, something that takes more than a tweet – like this post.

To sum up… if you’ve read this far and you’re looking for authentic, irreverent, of-the-moment humor, let me just say this:

I highly recommend these new Ricky Gervais commercials.

Why Media Training Is More Important Than Ever

There's nothing like an election year to prove the value of media training.

From Rick Perry’s “oops” moment to Marco Rubio’s robotic sound bites, there are ever-present echoes of memorable on-camera blunders that have shaped perceptions, ruined careers and changed history:

• The sweat on Richard Nixon’s upper lip in 1960.
• Jimmy Carter’s deferral to his 13-year-old daughter when discussing nuclear weapons with Ronald Regan in 1980.
• The look on Lloyd Benson’s face when Dan Quayle mentions JFK’s name in 1988.

All these are seminal moments in traditional media training courses, and the lessons are so ingrained in our culture that they have become part of our collective awareness.

A 2012 episode of “Modern Family” featured Claire Dunphy, running for town council, participating in a hilarious mock debate as she prepared to face an opponent on public access TV. Surrounded by family members who point out her every eye roll and flawed gesture, her young daughter pointedly asks a simple question, “Mrs. Dunphy, why are you running for local office?”

Claire pauses and stutters, and you don’t even have to know what happened during Roger Mudd’s 1979 interview with Ted Kennedy to know that her candidacy is doomed.

---------

If you’re a public relations professional, you should have a thorough grounding in this history, and in the basics of media training. There are many courses and workshops on the topic.

For example, April 6-8 in New York City, Ragan Communications is sponsoring a “PR & Media Relations Summit” – and on the opening afternoon, I’ll have the pleasure of teaming with media trainer TJ Walker for a two-hour pre-conference workshop. With TJ, things promise to be hands-on, with great practical tips to prepare any client to face a camera or important interview.

Even if you feel as if you’ve been there, done that, you may want to join us anyway… because, like every election year, there are new lessons to be learned.

Politicians are always on the cutting edge of media trends. No matter what your politics, you can learn PR from them. Remember how President Obama raised millions in campaign contributions via an email with a folksy subject line that just said “Hey”?

This year, while potential voters may abhor or delight in the Republican debate about the size of Donald Trump’s body parts, I think the new lesson is that everyone can benefit from media training.

No longer is media training a tool to prepare clients or corporate executives – instead, media training is an important life skill for the rest of us.

“Remember, the mic is always on…” used to be the #1 rule in media training. But this particular election season has brought home the point that the mic and camera are everywhere – and you have to act accordingly.

Look at Chris Christie, standing to the side of the stage following his endorsement of Trump. It was Christie who inadvertently became the story.

Today, everything is magnified – a tug on Trump’s leg, the color of Bernie Sanders’ suit, whatever that was on Ted Cruz’s lip -- and nothing is outside of the camera’s field of vision.

This election year, we’re all part of the story, for better or worse.

Last week, posting on Wired’s site, Jason Tanz called this the rise of marginal media:

“The Christie videos were just the latest installment in what might be the defining video format of this election. Call it marginal media, in which background activity overwhelms the intended subject… Hillary Clinton was overshadowed by the surreal stylings of ‘Sticker Kid,’ who mugged, jerked and danced throughout her stump speech.”

PR practitioners can stage the best speech and help compose the best shot, but Tanz makes the point that when everyone has video cameras in their pockets, you can’t really expect people to look where you want them to look or hear what you want them to hear.

Today, we’re all potentially in the spotlight of someone else’s story. And in the 2016 election year, marginal media may trigger a shared cultural moment that will again change history.

Think of the anti-war demonstrators outside the Democratic National Convention in 1968. While under physical attack, many began a chilling chant that resonates with a different meaning in 2016:

The whole world is watching. The whole world is watching.

IABC Career Panel: The Happy Recap

Me, on the right.

Here's the happy recap (Mets fans will appreciate that reference) of IABC New Jersey's recent panel on obtaining and enhancing a career in communications.

The post is from Deirdre Breakenridge's website. She's in the center of this photo by Kristin Nestor, with Sandy Charet on her right.

I posted my own preview of the panel last month, and it was a pleasure to meet so many Rutgers students on what was probably the rainiest night of the century.

For All the Saints

I posted this on Instagram on the rarest of dates, February 29, to tuck this away in a remote crevice of time...

When I was a boy, I spent several weeks every summer surrounded by these religious images. They’re still there, right where my grandmother left them, in the spare bedroom of her house, where I took these photos last weekend. I thought of these images yesterday, while attending the funeral of a friend who died too young from cancer. It was a beautiful, and touching, service. Everyone was eloquent in their remembrances and tributes. And yet, after the last of these, when we all joined in the Lord’s Prayer, we used the archaic English formula: “Our Father, who art in heaving, hallowed be thy name…” Why do we do that? It’s as if the language of everyday life isn’t important enough for prayer. These stilted prayers are like the religious artifacts in my grandmother’s bedroom. Curios from an ancient past. These days, I don’t need statues to remind me that saints exist. I know they exist by the absence in my heart: my grandmother, my father… and now my friend. While I feebly struggle, they in glory shine.

A photo posted by Bob Varettoni (@bvarnj) on Feb 29, 2016 at 8:27am PST

Find a Unicorn and Teach It to Fly

I'm speaking at an IABC-NJ professional development event at Rutgers next week and posted this preview on the organization's website...

Observing George Washington’s birthday yesterday, I couldn’t tell a lie:

When my colleagues on the IABC-NJ Board, Kristin Federico Nestor and Jeryl Turner, first suggested an event called “Obtaining and Enhancing a Career in Communications,” I thought a more honest title might be “Finding a Unicorn and Teaching It to Fly.”

After all, great comms jobs are hard to find and harder to excel at. And the ever-changing nature of what a career in communications looks like these days is not for the faint of heart.

But Kristin and Jeryl are fearless — and well-connected. They’ve lined up two of the industry’s best to lead an informal panel at the Rutgers University School of Communications & Information in New Brunswick on Wednesday evening, Feb. 24 (ticket info and more details here).

• When it comes to “obtaining a career in communications,” there’s no better expert than Sandy Charet, who has been recruiting for the PR and corporate communications industry for over 20 years. As president of Charet & Associates, based in Bergen County, she has led her firm to grow along with the changes and developments in the communications industry. She regularly places top talent in fields such as digital content, integrated marketing, social media, employee engagement and corporate social responsibility.

• When it comes to “enhancing a career in communications,” there’s no better expert than Deidre Breakenridge. If you were at IABC-NJ’s spring social last May, you know she’s an entrepreneur and the CEO of Pure Performance Communications. A 25+ year veteran in PR and marketing, Deidre is the author of five Prentice Hall and Financial Times Press books. Based in New Jersey, she speaks nationally and internationally on the topics of PR, marketing, branding and social media.

As the keynote speaker at our chapter’s spring social, Deidre asked, “Are You the Modern Day Communicator?” She stressed that the future of communications is now, and emphasized how as communicators we must drive that future. Sandy has also been a friend to our chapter. At a career development seminar this past July, she encouraged the audience to work with purpose and passion, pointing out how job candidates are often more concerned about salary and title. She closed with a favorite quote from Confucius: “If you choose the job you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.”

I’ll have the pleasure of joining Sandy and Deidre on the panel at Rutgers on Feb. 24. I plan to provide the perspective of someone who has been lucky enough to have spent a long career in communications. I’ll likely mention the value of professional development, and the value of organizations such as, well, IABC-NJ.

With constantly updated skills and a supportive professional network, you may find that building a career in communications really isn’t unicorn-impossible. It does take some work, though. It might be right up there in difficulty with finding true love and making it last.

But I know that’s possible too. After all, I was reminded of this the day before yesterday, on Valentine’s Day.

Book Reviews by a Fan of Stephen King

I've been posting book reviews at Goodreads for the past four years... sometimes off-handed, but always heartfelt. Reading them as a whole, all on one page -- which you can do right here -- reveals some disturbing things about my character. For example:

• I like to be "entertained" and invent drinking games
• I absolutely love Harper Lee
• I absolutely hate "Pride and Prejudice"
• I have a passionate love/hate relationship with Stephen King

Of course, Stephen has no idea I exist. Still, I've been hyper-critical of the author in some of my reviews, and a feeling of King-like dread enveloped me recently when I saw his name appear on my phone's caller ID display at work.

And of course, I answered -- I mean, you always open the door at the top of the stairway when you're alone in the house, right?

The fellow on the other end of the line sounded, in fact, like the real Stephen King. Everything he said, however... a blur of words about a concern that I dutifully took notes about and sent to Verizon's Customer Service department... sounded not-at-all King-like.

Finally, I broke character before saying goodbye. I assured him I would look into his concern, but then added that I had recently listened to both "Finders Keepers" and "The Bazaar of Bad Dreams" using Amazon's Audible app (and, in fact, would have given them both 4 stars had I reviewed them on Goodreads -- although I didn't mention this). I still think King's stories are too long -- but, really, what's so wrong about settling in to a good long story, well told? It's one of life's luxuries, for free.

"I'm a big fan," I said, lamely.

"Well, thank you," the man on the other end of the line said politely, adding, "My own favorite is 'The Stand'." 

Shortly afterward, I heard back from Customer Service about the resolution.

"By the way," I started to ask, "was that...?"

The Customer Service manager simply laughed in anticipation. "Oh, no," she said, "that wasn't THE Stephen King."

"Oh, of course not," I said. "I didn't think so."

But yet another disturbing thing about my character is that, really, I did.

The Half-Life of Carly Simon

Boys in the Trees: A Memoir by Carly Simon

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


The Half-Life of Carly Simon

This is an enjoyable listen – and I do mean listen, since the audio version of this autobiography is read by the author and includes a musical score woven throughout – about the first half of Carly Simon’s life.

The narrative basically ends in 1984, when Carly (as I’ll take the liberty of calling her) visits the obnoxious CEO of the publishing company that bears her father’s name. Suffice it to say, I’m very glad that this book has been published by Macmillan.

Still, it’s an enchanting read – in the same way her 1988 song “Let the River Run” (too current to be mentioned in this book) can enchant you with lyrics that, while poetic and evocative, don’t necessarily make sense if you think too much about them.

That’s exactly what happens with the writing here too. It so often, and sometimes infuriatingly, lapses into semi-poetry. But Carly uses just enough significant detail about the often-shocking incidents of her life that you feel compelled to keep reading (or listening).

Charmed or bewitched, I stayed for the whole show… a “final” chapter, an epilog, then two more “chapters” (a song and a legal disclaimer). Her stories took me back to high school and the anthems of my first girlfriend -- from first kiss (“Anticipation”) through breakup (“That’s the Way I’ve Always Heard It Should Be”). I never knew that Carly passed right underneath my first apartment in New York one night on her way to confront James Taylor’s lover. I recalled, years ago, first hearing her cover of Cat Stevens’ “Into White,” and thinking, “Wow, that’s random.” After listening to this book, I learned it wasn’t random at all.

So, for a few hours, I got to hang out with the cool kids, and realize that, hey, they’re just people too. In fact, even though Carly still loves him, good ole’ JT is a bit of a self-centered jerk, isn’t he? But then, the same might be said of me – and I’ll really have to hustle to contribute even a sliver of as much beauty to the world.

I’m awestruck by anyone who can look back on life without having to say, “I wish I had done that.” I appreciate, and admire, that Carly’s half-life makes for a pretty full, and memorable, book.

It will certainly be in my head the next time I visit Martha’s Vineyard. I’ll wander hand-in-hand with my wife on some street Carly might happen to be… and she won’t even know that we passed right by her.

View all my book reviews

Remembering a Friend in Bushwick

Longing and passion on the streets of Brooklyn. Case Maclaim.

Until yesterday, I had not been to the Bushwick section of Brooklyn since February 1987. Both trips were work-related; each was very different.

In 1987... I was newly working in the PR department for New York Telephone, and an electrical fire in a central office on Bushwick Avenue had just knocked out phone service to 41,000 people in one of the poorest, most neglected neighborhoods in New York City.

A town car had whisked me late at night past police barricades to a makeshift "command center" -- a cramped RV, where I was to spend the next few days at the side of Robin Flowers.

Robin was a big man with a deep, infectious laugh. Everyone who knew Robin loved him. Working at his side -- as we answered calls from reporters and he filled me in about how our PR department worked and taught me a bit about telecommunications technology -- has always been a highlight of my career.

Robin spent only a year or two more at New York Telephone. He left us to work at AT&T, where he'd eventually become a PR vice president, but not before keeping a promise to take me out and get me good and drunk one night if we ever got out of Bushwick alive.

Robin in 2002.

I scared the hell out of my wife the way I stumbled home early one Saturday soon afterward, and she was subsequently a bit wary at the mere mention of Robin's name. Between that and the fact that he would soon be bound for even bigger things, and I lost touch with him a few years later.

Then one day in 2012, out of the blue, I heard the news that Robin had died, after and long and courageous battle with MS.

In 2016... I found myself unexpectedly back in Bushwick. Now working in the PR department for Verizon, the successor to New York Telephone's former parent company, I had met my colleagues at a private club in Chelsea to set off for a Friday of team-building and creative discovery. The agenda was a mystery.

A cramped party bus whisked us over the Manhattan Bridge -- and, suddenly, there I was in the same neighborhood where I first worked with Robin.

I thought of him immediately -- and yet everything else about Bushwick had changed. It wasn't dangerous. It was bathed in bright light, mixed with stray snowflakes. We were in the midst of the Bushwick Collective, an outdoor street gallery, with vibrant murals from some of the world's best street artists. 

I marveled, in particular, at a hyperrealistic work by Case Maclaim from Germany. He had painted a beautiful, faceless couple embracing each other. The image screams with longing and passion; the woman holds on so tight that her finger imprints the skin around the man's bicep.

I started wandering down one street, trying to take it all in... when people started following me. Most thought I was leading the way; someone who knows me a little better shouted from behind: "Hey, Bob! This is supposed to be a team-building exercise. You're not supposed to be wandering off!"

We were scheduled to meet Joseph Ficalora, the Bushwick Collective's "curator," for a group tour of the neighborhood, but Joseph was late. With nothing else to do, everyone started taking photos of the street art.

Joseph tells the Bushwick Collective story.

"One by one, we're just reducing the 'cool factor' of the neighborhood," joked one of my younger colleagues, as we gazed at the sight of about 20 corporate communications managers on the hipster streets taking selfies and us-ies and photos for Instagram.

Another younger colleague was creating a Snapchat story.

"I don't like Snapchat," I said. "Nothing about it lasts."

"That's the whole point," he replied.

Finally, another colleague wandered into a local bar -- and everyone followed her, to wait for Joseph there.

Everyone but me. I wandered away again. I ducked around the corner and found a patch of white outside the frame of another work of art. It was an inadvertent brush stroke near the sidewalk.

So I bent down...

I bent down because this is what art is all about. It's not about Snapchat; it's about durable pigments.

I bent down... and added my own mark. I dug my pen into the splash of white, and carved the initials R and F into the wall.

Remembering Robin Flowers. He made a difference, and I want people to know that. Forever.

PR 101: How to Train Your Dinosaur

There's a bit of Walter Mitty in everyone and, over the years, I've found that an appreciation for whimsy can be a useful thing. Even in business.

Especially in business.

I write "over the years" because a friend who retired from Verizon's PR department recently texted me this photo of something he had saved in his files since 1998:

It's pretty funny too -- except for the part where the dinosaur is actually named Bob. In PR, the visuals can kill you.

So I was contemplating the deeper meaning of a decades-old Gary Larson cartoon when I ran into a work colleague early this morning.

"You at CES last week?" he asked.

CES, the Consumer Electronics Show, is held each January in Las Vegas. This year, it attracted 170,000 people, including the usual mix of marketing and PR professionals.

"No, I'm not allowed in Vegas," I joked.

In truth, because my job is focused on financial PR, there's little reason for me to attend. And in fact, don't tell anyone... after all, what's written in Jersey, stays in Jersey... I've never been to Las Vegas in my life.

"But didn't I see you there last year?" my colleague replied, confused.

A routine response would have been, "No, not me. You must be thinking of someone else." Then sulk about who he could have mistaken me for.

But, over the years, I've learned that not taking yourself too seriously can keep your inner dinosaur at bay. I simply looked bemused.

"Not allowed in Vegas?" he repeated. "I swear I saw you there last year."

I finally offered a faint, fleeting smile.

"Precisely," I said.

Bob Varettoni, inscrutable to the last.