Christmas parties are dangerous for reputations and careers. And not only the one in Mad Men where the lady runs over a colleague’s foot with a John Deere tractor. Love that TV show.
Case in point. Boris Johnson says he has “full confidence” in his spin doctor Jack Doyle. It’s because Jack went to a Downing Street Christmas party during Covid Lockdown. This was a Christmas party that Boris and Jack denied even happened, at first. Meanwhile, thousands of people were dying in Britain’s hospitals.
Since the Prime Minister has “full confidence” in Jack, I wish him the best in whatever he pursues next. But I’m also hoping that we all remember not to be too hard on people. It’s a dynamic that cuts both ways and I’d prefer to be generous and forgiving this Christmas. It’s important towards other people but also towards ourselves.
I went to school in South London with Jack. He was one of my team of prefects. I was his “head boy.” There’s ample material for mockery in that history on all sides. Jack also got me a shift at the Mail Online once when he worked at the Daily Mail as a political writer. I only lasted a day, I’m afraid, before depression precluded my continuing. But I’m still grateful for Jack’s help at a time when I and my career needed it. The Mail Online is one of the world’s most-read websites. I learned plenty about what it takes to pull that off, in a few hours. Boris Johnson, meanwhile, once turned me down for an internship at The Spectator. I wish I’d kept his rejection letter with its massive inky signature.
The point I want to make, though, is this. I don’t have full confidence in anyone. Not in Boris Johnson, or in Jack Doyle. Or in myself. Most people I trust about 51% until they prove otherwise. That judgment has proven to give me an exceptional rate of return over the course of my 42 cynical years. People are fallible. We shouldn’t need them to be perfect and it’s a bad sign of the times that we expect them to be.
Meanwhile the holidays are a tempting time to relax. But that’s how PR crises start. It’s always safer not to make a joke. And during a crisis don’t try to have any fun whatsoever. It’s the price of modern leadership. The public will hold you to a higher standard than it’s possible to hold themselves. Do you fancy letting off some steam? Get a punching bag installed at home. Don’t go to the bar. Or on Twitter. Or anywhere else even semi-public. Do your relaxation somewhere private with people you trust. I’m aware that these days we expect our leaders to be human and vulnerable. But not on this score. Our audiences are also more fragile and fickler during times like these. Or as Twitter user @GregClinker put it…
“You can remove my right to protest, take my citizenship away, give the security forces immunity from prosecution, privatize the NHS, allow 150,000 to die but I draw the line at an office party?”
And it’s the little things that bring us down. I quit working for a client this year over Slack. I was less than my usual patient self. I suggested they might need to find a new PR person on low blood sugar while I was waiting in line for a bagel on two hours of sleep. Note to self. Take a breath. Note to self. Don’t do sensitive communication via Slack. Note to self. Get more sleep and more understanding clients. Also: Be less of a jerk. But as I say, nobody is perfect. None of us. And I’ll own up to my own worst mistakes in the spirit of self-improvement. I’ve also coached people through extensive hostile scenario trainings. Many of them wouldn’t have been necessary in the first place if only somebody hadn’t been careless. Likewise, try not to be “tired and exhausted” too often, as the British tabloid euphemism for “drunk” goes. Especially not when you’re expected to be sober, and especially not if you’re on the clock.
What are your danger areas? What gets you going, and how do you hold back, when you’re about to go off? What provokes you to say stupid things in public? These are things to think about during the holiday season. They’re also useful things to roleplay while you do your crisis communications planning. You can write one usefully in an hour on the back of an envelope. If you’re a company or organization with a board and shareholders, it should be the result of a more extensive process.
And remember: None of us is perfect. Here’s hoping you do get to let your hair down somewhere this Christmas. Even if it’s ill-advised and it ruins your entire career. Be like the woman in Mad Men and get on the tractor. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?
Good luck to you in your debauchery, however limited. And Merry Christmas!
