It comes as no surprise that, in the aftermath of what most considered a balanced article about the Oakland Raiders in Sports Illustrated, team owner Mark Davis fired the team's public relations director.

According to reports in The San Francisco Chronicle, Davis didn't like the way S.I. '…painted him or the job done by his father, late owner Al Davis, in the previous 10 years.' So, PR Director Zak Gilbert was cut from the squad.

The move actually makes sense since:

- Like many other CEOs, Davis is reluctant to shoulder the blame for his personal mistakes (Think: Messrs. Dimon, Kozlowski, Lay and Skilling as a starting point).

- Like many other CEOs, Davis really doesn't understand the role of strategic public relations or the concept of a free press (Think: “C'mon, Steve, you must have something on this reporter. Call in a chit, and get him to write a puff piece.”).

- When it is thought of at all by many CEOs, PR is seen as either stunts or crisis messaging. Period.

- Finally, when the going gets tough, the PR and human resources functions are almost always the first to go.

The Raiders story reminds me of two, similar personal experiences. One is recent; the other occurred during the War of the Roses:

- Not too long ago, a major retailer told us that, despite demonstrable success in turning around their image and reputation on social media channels, our budget was being re-allocated to fund an upgrade in the organization's IT infrastructure. Oh. Well, that sure demonstrated the CEO's respect for PR, didn't it?

- Long ago and far away (and while at H&K), we represented a global consulting firm who paid us a large retainer AND spent $1mm in print advertising in The Wall Street Journal (a not inconsiderable sum for a professional services firm in those days). Well, we pitched the Journal on a feature and, lo and behold, scored a front page story. But, alas, the piece was well-researched and balanced and, as a result, contained both positive and negative quotes about the CEO and his organization.

The CEO's first call was to me. He screamed at me and said if I didn't get a full retraction he'd fire us. When I told him a full retraction would never, ever occur, he promptly fired H&K (and me). He then proceeded to yank his advertising from the Journal (and Forbes Magazine, for good measure).

Needless to say, the Journal, Forbes and H&K are still very much alive, if not well. Meanwhile, the consulting firm has stayed under the radar ever since.

As I've noted in previous blogs, PR can help build credibility and enhance consideration, but if the basic business model is flawed (Read: the Raiders and the consulting firm), nothing will help.

That said, firing the PR guy always makes the CEO feel good. And, that's the bottom-line.

So, how about you? Have any good 'Fire the PR guy' stories worth sharing? I promise we won't cancel your subscription.

Today’s guest post is by Peppercomm’s Director, Media and Editorial Strategy, Matt Purdue who, I’m pleased to report, does know sh*t from shinola.

What happens when your company’s most important brand messages don’t match with the experience you offer your target customers? You end up with disappointed and frustrated prospects, that’s what.

Case in point: I’m a bit of a watch nerd. I see a watch as more than a timekeeper. I see it as an accoutrement (five points for using that word) that makes a statement about the guy who’s wearing it. That’s why I was so excited when a company called Shinola recently came on the scene.  I won’t bore you with their background – you can Google it. But, in a nutshell, Shinola makes sharp-looking watches that are hand-assembled right here in the U.S. of A. – in Detroit of all places.

On June 6, I received the email below from Shinola. After quickly selling out their first run, Shinola was offering a second run…a “second chapter,” as they cleverly wrote.  The watches were purportedly rolling off the assembly line. And if I reserved by June 12, I was guaranteed to have a watch in time for a Father’s Day gift to myself.

About three hours after I received the email, I clicked over to Shinola’s website. Every single watch was sold out. Confused, I called Shinola. A very pleasant woman answered the phone. She confirmed that, yes indeed, the watches sold out within two hours. As my colleague Sam Ford so astutely put it: “That was a really short second chapter.”

I read the company’s email messaging back to her. I told her that images of watches rolling off an assembly line didn’t match the reality: that Shinola made so few watches that they were gone in two hours. I asked her why Shinola would promise Father’s Day delivery for all orders placed by June 12, when they must have had a sense that there’d be no watches remaining on June 12.

She apologized profusely, but didn’t have any satisfactory answers as to why Shinola implied they were making watches galore, when they obviously assembled a relatively small batch. I suggested to the woman that all Shinola had to do was simply tell the truth: that the first batch sold out quickly, so customers had better act fast to avoid being disappointed. We went on to have a long discussion about other alternatives: for example, hold five daily flash sales, selling 20% of the batch each day until they are all sold, etc., etc. But, in the end, it was all talk.

In fact, as I write this, Shinola is still running ads with this messaging: “Your dad can't pass down his American-made wristwatch if you never buy it for him. Father's Day collection from Shinola.” Well, sorry, dads. You’ll just have to wait for the next batch…because there aren’t any watches left. Maybe you’ll have one for Labor Day?

Every executive today is busier than ever, and doesn’t need any more headaches. So why do companies inflict this pain on themselves? When it comes to customer messaging, you should not have these problems. The best customer messaging aligns the brand promise with the customer experience. When it comes to writing and distributing your brand messages, there’s simply no excuse for overpromising and underdelivering.

In a desperate ploy to turn around its worst quarterly sales report in more than a decade, McDonald's is finally taking off the gloves and going all out to fatten up consumers around the world.

Starting immediately, diners can order pancakes or hash browns to go with their Happy Meal 24 hours a day! The fast food behemoth’s so-called ‘After Midnight’ program will enable customers to mix and match breakfast items with those from the all-day menu. So, one could go with eggs, bacon, a double cheeseburger and fries, and wash down the whole ungodly concoction with a supersized Coke. Life doesn’t get much better than that.

And, get this, McDonald’s addicts in Japan can order something called a Mega Potato. That’s a Godzilla-like serving that features an artery-clogging, heart-stopping 1,142 calories! That’s more calories than one can find in two Big Macs. Wow. Thanks, Ronald!

McDonald’s is in panic mode because Millennials are choosing other fast food options. According to industry analysts, Millennials are more price conscious than their elders AND prefer personalized, healthier chains such as Shake Shack that enable them to create, and watch, their own low-calorie meals being made right before their eyes. Based on this new trend, it seems to me McDonald’s should instead call their campaign ‘One Minute to Midnight.’

Eating (and talking) out of both sides of their mouth

I wouldn’t find the latest Mickey D offensive so offensive if the Fortune 500 mega company didn’t also wrap itself in the cloak of corporate social responsibility. So, while it touts such programs as the Ronald McDonald House which do, in fact, help prolong lives and fund cancer research, McDonald’s continues to playing a leading role in causing obesity with these After Midnight promotions. That’s corporate double-speak.

I have a stand-up comedy routine that calls for more authenticity in advertising. I joke that many organizations would, in fact, be 100 percent transparent in their advertising campaigns if they only added one word. For example:

    -In the aftermath of United’s merger with Continental airlines, they ran ads proclaiming; ‘It’s not who’s merging that counts. It’s what’s about to emerge.’ Had they only added the word chaos, United would be telling the truth.
    -New Jersey Transit’s slogan is: ‘Getting you there.’ That brand promise would be 100 percent accurate if the transportation monopoly added the word eventually.
    -McDonald’s current slogan is: ‘I’m lovin’ it!’ In light of the After Midnight program, I suggest they add two words to the tagline: to death.

Were one to characterize the Nixon White House, one might select such words as cover-up, paranoia, conspiracy and double-talk. The same could be said of the current management of the New York Jets football team.

Ever since the team failed to deliver on coach Rex Ryan’s guarantees they would win a Super Bowl, the communications strategy has gone from braggadocio trash-talking to a hot mess of half-truths, mistruths and complete silence.

As a result, the trust that has long existed between GangGreen and fan base has completely eroded.
To add insult to injury, the Jets have lost their ultimate brand ambassador, Joe Willie Namath.

As you can read in this article and listen on this link, Joe has been treated in a very shabby way by the team. That’s akin to the Yankees turning their back on Derek Jeter or the Giants cutting off Phil Simms. It just doesn’t make sense. And, it further escalates the tension between the team and fans.

At the height of the Vietnam War, legendary CBS News correspondent, Walter Cronkite, broadcast a scathing editorial on the conduct of the war, declaring that, for all intents and purposes, the U.S. could not win. Watching Cronkite on his Oval Office television set, LBJ told his aides, "If I’ve lost Cronkite, I’ve lost the country." And, he had.

The same holds true for the Jets. If they’ve lost Joe Willie Namath, they’ve lost JetsNation. And that, my friends, is a tailor-made worst practice case study for any upcoming Arthur W. Page, PRSA or Council of PR Firms seminar on image and reputation.

I should be awarded a Purple Heart for the battle wounds I've sustained over the years thanks to the handiwork of American product packaging designers.

I'll bet my fingers and hands carry more scars caused by more hermetically-sealed packages than there are stars in the heavens.

Crest mouthwash and toothpaste packages have inflicted the most damage, followed closely by multi-sized groupings of Dove Soap.

But, the dark prince of product packaging has to be the guy who designed the cup containing my daily allotment of fruit.

I'll bet it takes me three to four minutes every day to figure out a way to pry open the lid. It's impossible to attack from the front or rear. So, I slowly try to ease my pinky finger into a small side air pocket the dastardly designer overlooked. It's a flanking maneuver worthy of the Duke of Wellington.

I've disrupted countless Peppercomm meetings by cursing at the fruit box, banging it against the table, breaking plastic knives and forks in a vain attempt to pry open its contents and, yes, Virginia, even drawing blood from the eventually successful, but badly battered, right pinky finger.

I understand the need to prevent product tampering and keep American consumers safe, but packaging designers could outwit the most fiendishly diabolical Al Qaeda attack. My fruit cup makes Fort Knox seem like an easy access point of entry.

So, why must we resort to chain cutters, blow torches and machetes to open a plastic thingamajig containing nothing more potent than cherry-flavored mouthwash?

What possesses product packagers to make it so impossible to open toothpaste, soap, mouthwash, fruit and other items? I think I know the answer.

I think these guys (and they have to be men. Women would never be so sadistic) create competitions within their field to see who can create the most impregnable product AND inflict the most casualties on unsuspecting consumers. I'll bet they even have their own version of the SABER Awards featuring such categories as:

- Most scratches caused by a product retailing for $1, or less
- Most hospital visits caused by an artery severed while attempting to open a multi-product package
- Most time spent opening a package retailing for $5, or more.

I'm fascinated that more people don't complain about impossible-to-open product packaging (unless, of course, they're being paid to keep silent by The Band-Aid Association of America, or BAAA if you prefer. Those trade groups are unbelievably powerful).

In a desperate attempt to resuscitate a credential that flat lined long ago, the Public Relations Society of America recently announced a significant effort to “enhance the profile and prestige” of the oft-maligned Accredited in Public Relations (APR) designation.

On the off chance you've never heard of the APR, it's the PR industry's pale imitation of an M.D. or C.P.A. (or passing the bar to become a practicing lawyer). To earn an APR, one needs to “…complete a questionnaire, advance through a readiness review with three professional peers and pass a computer-based examination.”

That's it. That's the extent of the process. It has no rigor, no merit and, sadly, no credibility whatsoever with client-side decision-makers.

According to the PRSA, some 3,800 members hold the APR credential (that's less than 18 percent of total membership). But, fewer and fewer members are bothering to even take the exam: the number of annual applicants has dropped from 256 in 1993, to 157 in 2012.

I've never bothered taking the APR. And, no one I know in my agency, or in most of the best firms in the business, is accredited. I've never heard of any human resources manager requesting a job candidate successfully complete the test in order to be considered for a job. And, clients aren't even aware of its existence.

The APR is the true horse-and-buggy of PR. Created in a kinder, gentler and much slower world, it has no relevance in a world dominated by such speedy 'automobiles' as social media, content creation, trans-media communication and customer experience.

The APR IS important to practitioners in the hinterlands, who see it as an industry version of a Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. And, maybe it does help attract the local Buffalo, Wyoming, Jiffy Lube account. But, it has no bearing whatsoever on ANY decisions made by ANY public relations professional in a genuine position of significant authority.

Unless, and until, the PRSA can devise a truly rigorous examination that matches those in the fields of medicine and the law, they should stop spinning wheels and spending member dollars pretending to be modern-day alchemists. The APR is a rusted, worthless credential.

PR industry trades have been whipped into a positive frenzy by news that Cigna, Visa and other Fortune 500 corporations are eliminating their chief communications officer jobs and consolidating all marcomm functions under one, global chief marketing officer.

I'm not surprised by this development at all. In fact, I predicted it would happen a year ago.

The rationale is an obvious one: Why would any cost-conscious CEO or CFO pay a seven-figure salary to both a CCO and CMO who, in their eyes at least, do more or less the same thing?

But, in their rush to analyze this phenomenon, pundits are missing the larger story: the CCO and CMO are not engaged in some sort of death struggle to see which function will ultimately survive. Rather, as Frank Eliason has so eloquently pointed out in his blogs, speeches and Tweets, we're witnessing the rise of a new C-Suite player: the chief experience officer.

As Eliason has said on numerous occasions, nothing supersedes the customer experience. All the marketing and communications in the world won't overcome a bad experience with a product, service or organization.

That's why far-sighted companies such as FedEx and Humana now have a chief customer experience officer. And, guess what? The marketing and communications functions report into the experience officer. And, that's the way it should be.

The PR industry needs a wake-up call in the worst way.

We need to stop believing that top down, inside out marketing and communications hyperbole trumps everything else.

We should stop obsessing whether the CCO can defend her turf against the CMO or if a PR firm, rather than an ad agency, should own social media.

Those are yesterday's battles.

Tomorrow's corporation will be led by a chief experience officer who, knowing all there is to know in terms of delighting her organization's multiple audiences, will then select the exact mix of online, offline, advertising, PR and experiential components needed to engage with the customer on HIS terms. And the CEO will make sure her corporation does so in an authentic, outside-in manner.

Trade journalists don't get this subtle, but seismic, shift because, frankly, they're too busy observing our industry as opposed to living it day-to-day. I do both, and I can tell you this: one day soon, we'll be reading a trade journal called Chief Experience Officer, Experience Week or The Audience Report. And, the editor and his reporters won't be hyperventilating about CCO vs. CMO battles but, rather, covering which customer experience program is most closely aligned with its communications outreach (and which communications program is most genuine in terms of the actual end user experience).

That, dear reader is the future. And, it arrived yesterday.