So what becomes of the Old Spice Guy?

I guess our jobs just got a whole lot harder, and rightly so. The recent success of the Old Spice Guy's social media campaign illustrates just how much the world has changed, and how the integration of social media and advertising works to build impact and sales.

The numbers alone are awe-inspiring. Sales of Old Spice body wash products spiked 107 percent in the last month, and the customized video responses from our guy, actor Isaiah Mustafa, have now outreached traditional broadcast TV, becoming some of the fastest videos ever to go viral on the Internet.

Inspired was the campaign, which integrated advertising and social media, and sets the bar high indeed for future marketing efforts. Mustafa's bombast, coupled with personalized responses to tweets and YouTube comments, including one marriage proposal, gave the campaign just enough camp so as not to insult Internet sensibilities, while obviously reaching the product's target audience of young, college-age men.

Even before P&G announced its sales figures from the campaign, I still thought the campaign worked on many levels, and argued so here at Gregory FCA. Increased sales is always the objective. But even before the numbers were announced, the campaign was a winner as part of any effort to re-energize the brand, excite a stale sales effort, win more shelf space at retail, and excite buyers at major chains by demonstrating an ability to create awareness on a national basis.

But now comes the really tough part: extending the lifetime of the campaign so as not to be relegated to one-hit wonder status. No doubt the minds at P&G are already busy at work figuring out what to do with this gorilla who happily sits in their room.

Interestingly, there are already signs that the impact is waning, an all-too-real fact of life in the short-cycle world of social media. A quick study we conducted using the Nielsen BuzzMetrics brand monitoring and analytics platform shows that chattter about the campaign is falling faster than an anchor in choppy seas. Just take a look at the graphs below. (You can click to enlarge.)

Truth be told, there's value in transparent commenting

One of our clients, John Zoccola of Vantage Learning, e-mailed me this morning with his reaction to my post yesterday about anonymous vs. transparent commenting. I wanted to share his thoughts here:

Yes, absolutely commenters ought to identify themselves. For as much as it provides credibility perhaps to the folks they're commenting about, it can eliminate the false courage people have when posting anonymously and cut down on some of the nonsense that has to be monitored.

Thanks for the comment, John. I appreciate you taking time to read my blog. I think you are right. All too often, comments lose their value because anonymity emboldens ridiculousness. And that's fine. But comments can also be a valid part of the conversation.

That's why I suggested a hybrid system where the rabble can still rouse, while those of us who want to enter into more thoughtful discussions have an opportunity to do so in the bright light of transparency. In the end, I think this might serve everyone's needs and provide a way to further our clients' objectives, while responding to legitimate issues and concerns brought to light by real people seeking real answers.

The public relations industry should push for transparency in commenting

The more credible commenting becomes, the more valuable of a tool it becomes for clients and firms.

This morning, as with many mornings, I woke up to read The Philadelphia Inquirer sports section and keep abreast of DooDooFresh. DooDoo is a daily reader-commenter who is obsessed with former Eagle's quarterback Donovan McNabb and his habit of playing the air guitar while in uniform.



DooDoo's irreverence brings an air of lightness to the daily drama of Philadelphia sports. But would DooDoo do the voodoo that he do do if the Inquirer required him post under his real name? It's a question that underscores the ongoing debate within the media as to whether readers' comments should stop being anonymous and rather should be accompanied by the name of the writer.

The issue of anonymity has plagued the public relations industry ever since the advent of digital media. On one hand, anonymity allows for greater voice and opinion. As this theory goes, commentators, such as an employee at a company that is engaged in illegal activity, would not post to a media site if not for the protection of anonymity.

The same goes for consumers, who under anonymity feel more comfortable reviewing, chastising, and criticizing a company or product. Then, there's the counter argument, that anonymity coarsens public discourse, and provides a water cooler for ugly, offensive remarks.

It also erodes the value of comments themselves. Without transparency, anyone can say anything at any time without impunity. The media knows that continued lack of accountability will kill what has become a golden goose of online reporting -- comments, which can often attract more readership than the article itself and provide a scorecard for editors to determine what is most interesting to any given audience.

Some media are already moving to add a new level of transparency, and along with it, authenticity, to their reader comments. The Sun Chronicle in Attleboro, Mass., recently introduced a new system that requires commenters to register their names, addresses, phone numbers, and credit card numbers.

The Sun Chronicle charges a one-time fee of 99 cents to activate the account. Commenters' names then appear online along with their posts. The Wall Street Journal has required names to appear with reader comments since 2008.

From a public relations point of view, there is real value in transparency. Anonymity makes it nearly impossible to assess the validity of an allegation or defamatory remark made against a client online.

At the same time, as an industry, we are bound ethically to disclose our representation when commenting online in response to the media or on review sites. In that respect, transparency would level the playing field, requiring both sides to come clean as to who is behind a comment online.

Yet, complete transparency is unlikely to happen. Right now, the media place great value in online reader comments as an eyeball aggregator and a way to score reporters and stories. Required transparency would put a brake on the number and frequency of comments.

What's the answer? How about a hybrid system whereby commenters could chose to be anonymous or not? Those commenters who opt to give their names -- and validate them with e-mail and credit card verification -- would have their comments posted higher than those who remain anonymous.

Those who don't take off the mask would be relegated to the end of the list of comments, defusing their impact. To further encourage transparency, reporters would be encouraged to engage with those commenters who disclose their identity through a special two-way feature of the blog or site. Such attention would trigger even more comments.

No doubt, those of us who read the media would be more likely to give greater credibility to named commenters. After all, these commenters are assuming the real risk that flows from public comments, even if it's just a negative response from the crowd. And at the same time, this hybrid system of opt-in transparency would still allow the rabble to rouse and the media to score themselves against the visceral response of the masses.

So DooDoo would still be allowed to do the voodoo that he do do. But we would all have a better understanding of who is saying what, for what purposes, and for which intended results. At the same time, the public relations industry would gain an additional, more credible tool for correcting the record, responding to misstatement of fact, resetting agendas, and gaining legitimate visibility.

Gregory FCA e-book: The Art of News and Storytelling in the Age of Social and Digital Media

Many of you attended our national media panel in April, "The Art of News and Storytelling in the Age of Social and Digital Media." We've provided you several resources as an outgrowth to it, including the podcast, video, and transcript from the event.

Now the last piece has fallen in place. We've published the complete transcript of the event as an e-book that you can enjoy and learn from at your leisure. There are a few ways you can read it.

• Scroll through it on Google Books.
• Download the PDF.
• Read it on your Kindle by right clicking this e-book link, and selecting "save link as." Connect your Kindle to your computer and drag and drop the file over to your Kindle.

We hope you enjoy the e-book and learn something from it. Feel free to share and print it as an educational resource.

Off the grid for seven days

I am a self-confessed news junkie. A guy whose favorite day in eighth-grade social studies was current events. Even earlier, at age 12, I wrote a letter to "60 Minutes." So incensed was I over some long-forgotten story. With the Internet, the access and obsession have grown that much stronger.

What was once a daily commitment to news is now an hourly compulsion to click on a news alert, check an RSS feed, see what's being tweeted, and otherwise refresh and renew my view of the world, even if it's just through e-mails and the constant flow of news links sent to me by clients and staff.

And so, with all that as a backdrop, last week I headed into the great backwoods of central Pennsylvania with the intention of going off the grid for as long as I could. Seven days, if all went as planned, with no cell coverage. The iPad at home. A backup laptop with a dead battery in reserve that could be fired up with a power supply in an emergency.

Day One: Friday, July 2

Travel and provision day. Time to hit the road, and purchase groceries and fishing tackle. The day before a holiday weekend is slow for news. I wouldn't be missing much. So I easily switched the satellite radio to music instead of the typical CNN, CNBC, NPR, and Fox hash and rehash.

Still, I caught myself repeatedly tapping the pocket of my cargo shorts, a nervous tick to assure a quick draw of the cell phone if fate required it. But alas, not there. So by noon, my mind was racing. Had the stock market continued to fall? Who advanced in the World Cup? How long would the heat wave persist? With no news, I was groundless. Without fact or opinion, I was stressed by the lack of context.

By evening, a slow-moving river and an even slower porch ceiling fan helped me to relax. But still, who was winning and losing? What about the unexpected? How was the world changing? I couldn't help but wonder.

Day Two: Saturday, July 3

The holiday brings no news, I rationalized, when I awoke early and began planning for the Fourth of July family get-together. I would be missing little, if anything for the next two days, making it easier to maintain radio silence. A busy afternoon of family and friends kept me outdoors, away from thoughts of my iPad and iPhone.

Our family's amateur fireworks show, some 50 500-gram shots reflecting over the water, distracted my thoughts. I forgot it was the first day of the Tour de France. After all, it was just the prologue. The world as it's constructed by news was becoming more and more distant.

Day Three: Sunday, the Fourth of July

A national holiday limits news, I figured. Then I recalled when I was away over Thanksgiving and the Dubai credit crisis hit. Wasn't that on a holiday? I thought to myself. It was such a big news story that morning. Ruined my day. Dubai was crashing. Could the rest of the world sustain? It never affected my life one way or the other. Still, I had to know. What might be happening similarly today? I was haunted by all that I might be missing.

Day Four: Monday, July 5

Still the national holiday. The markets were closed. The mania toggled off. I bathed early that morning in a cold mountain stream, fresh off a bike ride. Nothing on me had a lithium battery to drain or manage. My mind and pockets were free of the cell phone, text messaging, e-mail, and the media. No noise. The heat built throughout the day, but not my anxiety. By dinner, I felt no urge, no compulsion. No need to know what was happening in the world. Might the addiction be waning?

Day Five: Tuesday, July 6

An early breakfast at The Barnyard, where $5 gets you more pork, eggs, and potatoes than the old cardiologist recommends consuming in a year. With it came a side helping of realization. I awoke this morning feeling a little bit better about the world.

You see, typically, as part of my heavy media diet, evenings end with two opposing views of the world brought to life by Keith Olbermann and Rachel Maddow from the left, and Bill O'Reilly and Sean Hannity from the right. As a PR person, I watch both MSNBC and Fox to understand how to craft an argument regardless of whether it's real or ridiculous.

And now being away from it, I realize that two hate-filled hours a night tends to taint your perspective come dawn. So this morning, I had no residual anger over what Barbara Boxer or Karl Rove said the day before. Instead, the day looked a little brighter. The sky a bit bluer. Four days off the grid had shown me the intrinsic negativity that goes with media. Ah screw it, I thought to myself. I still love the news. Cold turkey is tough.

Day Six: Wednesday, July 7

In the world I am now moving in, news isn't mediated. Rather it's immediate, delivered from friend or acquaintance. Curvin, a Mennonite woodworker, showed up early to fashion a gun cabinet out of antique yellow pine. He speaks slowly, against expectation. A hello brings a slow-drawn "Riiiiight." He eyeballed and measured the fitting. Then he appeared silently over my left shoulder as I sat on a porch rocker.

"So how's business with you?" he asked as a first-time reference to me about anything other than cabinetry.

"Good," I replied. "And with you?"

"Slow. Real slow," he said slowly.

And with that, his words triggered my fear. Business is slow even for a Mennonite cabinetmaker. It all had to be the result of the news, I thought to myself. Unknown to him, market forces had conspired, a housing collapse transpired, and 10-percent unemployment afflicted the nation.

The news would tell me more, give me an idea of how to navigate from here. Certainly, the talking heads of CNBC could give counsel. Maybe The Huffington Post could finger-point some capitalist culprit. Or The Wall Street Journal would place the blame at Obama's feet. I had to have it. Please, oh God, give me the news.

So with that, I pulled out the drained laptop and plugged it in, one day short of my goal of being off the grid for seven days. In seconds, it awoke to the WiFi and my life lit up again. Google stood at attention. The Dow was up. Lance fell down. Germany and Brazil stumbled. LeBron left town. The squawk was back in the box. All seemed right with the world again.

The media are not our friends

As PR practitioners, we often fall into the trap of believing that relationships trump all, and that by being open and transparent with the media, we stand the best chance of winning favorable coverage. But underneath it all, the media's agenda is vastly different than our own.

Reporters are rarely promoted or rewarded for writing a positive story about a business, person, or politician. Rather, their own success often depends on exposing the negative, uncovering the wrong, and seeing the opposite in what is projected by the world.

Good thing, too. Without that skepticism, the value of public relations would be forever diminished. It's only through the prism of objectivity that media coverage gains its power. This is precisely why the consuming public values media more than marketing. A reporter's scrutiny confers believability. Skepticism portrays the reality of the world, and plays more authentically to the audience.

That's often not easy for clients to understand. A few years ago, I worked with a financial services company that was profiled in The Wall Street Journal. The story was positive in every way, except for a quote from an outside analyst the reporter turned to for a counterpoint. The client went ballistic, claiming that the entire article had been impugned.

I took up the fight and explained that quite to the contrary, it was the counterpoint that gave the article its weight and legitimacy. By finding a negative, the reporter did us the favor of demonstrating objectivity, and conferred a degree of credibility we never could have achieved through simple advertising.

The client never agreed with me. We went our separate ways. Philosophically we never connected on the real power of PR as more than just a tool for exposure, but rather a vehicle for credibility in a world full of illegitimacy.

So in a world where the media are not our friends, we as PR professionals need to act accordingly, remembering:

A client's interest trumps a media relationship. A dirty little secret of PR is that many practitioners would rather error on the side of the client, rather than alienate a media contact. But the media are big boys and girls. They understand the dance we enter into, and have short memories when you enter the arena as a worthy adversary.

No comment is sometimes the best response. It's become a tired refrain in PR to never say "no comment." Too often, that counsel comes from PR people who simply don't want to alienate a media contact who they might need in the future. After decades of high-risk crisis work, I have come to realize that no comment often does more to protect the interests of a client than some half-baked empty response that nibbles at the corners of liability. No further comment.

The media love no one. This is why Gen. Stanley McChrystal got tattooed last week. He believed that if he could just bring the reporter into his world, and share with him the blood and guts (and finger-pointing) of war, the coverage would be favorable. The big egos often fall into this trap. You see it all the time in sports. Athletes believe they're beloved by the media, and then can't understand when the media turns on them. Tiger Woods fell victim when, during his press conference, he attacked the media for stalking him and his family. In reality, Tiger was devastated to realize that the media never loved him. He was just a story. When access was easy, the storytelling was favorable. When it became difficult, they did what they had to do to get the story. They didn't love him. Never did.

Manage the negativity, but don't discount it. I have used 101 techniques in my day to prevent the negative from being exposed by the media. Heck, I once holed up a Santa Clause in a hotel after he was accosted and the media wanted to report on crime in my client's mall. But important stories have two sides. It's the presentation of both sides that comforts the audience and opens them to a more worthy perspective.