I’ll never forget what my first real boss said to me when I told her I was leaving her marketing communications firm to go work for Chuck Donofrio: “Are you sure you want to go there? They just had major layoffs.” Chuck’s firm, which was then called Richardson, Myers and Donofrio (now Carton Donofrio Partners), had gone through a significant restructuring earlier that year in order to integrate the various departments of the agency – media, creative, production, public relations and even accounting. While she planted a minor seed of doubt in my mind, I had a really strong feeling about the opportunity and about Chuck. My answer to her was a solid, “Yes.”

After the staff meeting where my boss announced my imminent departure, her secretary pulled me aside and quietly said, “I love Chuck. I just went to a baby shower for a friend who works there. He could have talked to anyone in the room. But he chose to spend time with me. A secretary. And we had the most interesting conversation.”

Two weeks later, I started my job at Chuck’s firm and we’ve been having interesting conversations ever since.

I realized early in my time with the company that Chuck was no ordinary CEO. He drove the same car I did (a Honda Civic), carried hiking shoes in his work bag (you never know when you might stumble upon a trail head) and didn’t give a shit about job titles or hierarchy (his words). He approached his role as much a college professor as a chief executive. His vision for our industry was remarkable. Again, he was among the first to embrace integration. It’s industry standard these days, but in 1995 most executives were just talking about it. Some still are. As a PR person, I sat next to a media buyer and was often asked by the creative director to review advertising copy before he presented it to the client. Media buyers wouldn’t even talk to me in my old firm and the creative people made them look congenial.

Shortly after I joined the team, Chuck held a meeting to announce the hire of an interactive guru. He started the meeting by saying, “The Internet will have more of an impact on our industry than anything else in my lifetime. We’re jumping on the wave and we’re riding it hard.” Remember, it was 1995 and RM&D was the only large agency in Baltimore with a website. In fact, my previous employer joked that he wanted to launch a website that said, “Call us if you want me to fly out and tell you why we’re great.” At that moment, I felt like I would follow Chuck into a fire if he told me it was the smart thing to do.

A year or so later, my immediate supervisor decided to leave. I was 26. Chuck called me into his office and said, “Do you think you need a boss?” I’d come to learn Chuck was all about giving opportunities to people who felt ready to take them on. I didn’t want to sound entitled or arrogant so I told him I wanted to take on more responsibility if he was open to it. He immediately said, “Yeah, I don’t think you need a boss either.” After a year of essentially acting as PR director, Chuck made me the firm’s youngest-ever vice president.

The heart-to-heart conversations are too many to recount. Suffice it to say I learned many important life lessons from Chuck over the next few years. He taught me that blurring the line between personal and professional made both more interesting. He taught me that life is about collecting experiences, not things. He taught me that if you’re going to do something, go all the way with it.

In 2000, when I decided to leave RM&D and take a job in New York City, I dreaded telling Chuck. The PR group was thriving in the midst of the dot-com boom. What’s more, he was on his annual two-week vacation in Sanibel Island, Florida. I couldn’t wait, though, until he returned to give notice. I sat on my living room floor and cried my eyes out as I told him my decision over the phone. Chuck took a deep breath and said, “I am looking out at the most serene setting, but I am not feeling peaceful.” Gulp. He continued, “But I did the same thing at your age and my boss tried to stop me. I am not going to do that to you.” Now, for all his wisdom, Chuck is known for speaking his mind and giving in to his immediate reaction. I was floored. Then he said with the greatest confidence, “And you’ll be back in three years anyway.”

Six weeks later, I moved to New York and started my new job. But Chuck and I always stayed in close contact. As the economy began to weaken, some of my new colleagues started to exhibit less than professional behavior in the name of self preservation. I’d had just about enough when I decided to email Chuck and ask for his advice. He told me that he was on vacation in Sanibel Island, but would call me when he could. After we had a laugh about the timing of my SOS call, he listened to what I had to say. I kind of expected him to respond, “Screw that, you need to move on to a company with a better culture.” Instead he told me to stick it out. That I had more to learn. That there was more good than bad. Turned out he was right.

The Sanibel Island talks continued for the next couple of years until 2003 when he said, “I’m coming to New York and I’d like to take you to dinner.” I don’t actually know if he made the trip just for me or if he was already there for another purpose.

After exchanging a few niceties, Chuck looked across the table and said, “It’s time for you to start your own company. I’d give you money, but I don’t think you need it. Go write a manifesto. Don’t let the dust settle.” He explained that he felt I’d accomplished all I could in my job and that he’d like to see me launch a company by the time I turned 35. He felt the mid-thirties were the prime of one’s career and my entrepreneurial window of opportunity. I left my job a couple of weeks later and Rose Communications was born.

Chuck and I immediately established a partnership and we’ve been Carton Donofrio Partners’ public relations capability for the last eight years. Chuck was right, again. Three years after I left, we were back together.

One of the first accounts we collaborated on was the National Association of Realtors. The year after I launched the company, our client held a marketing summit in Santa Fe. When my plane landed, I called Chuck to let him know I was there. He said, “Come to the hotel and meet me in the lobby. I need to show you something.” I figured he wanted to share his presentation with me or maybe new creative he planned to reveal. Chuck led me out to his rental car and said he wanted to take me to see some cave dwellings he had visited the day before. An avid bird watcher, he took his binoculars and we walked along searching for feathered friends. I was reminded on that mini-hike how great it was to work with Chuck.

A few years ago, I noticed Chuck’s demeanor was changing. He didn’t seem as engaged in the business and occasionally brought up things we had already discussed. His healthy skepticism seemed to be turning into pessimism. I chalked it up to his absent-minded professor tendency and thought perhaps he was losing interest in the company his father founded more than 40 years before. I considered that there was a bigger problem at play, but ignorance was bliss. Then I got the call.

The company’s chief operating officer told me Chuck had been diagnosed with Early Onset Alzheimer’s disease. They wanted my help communicating the news to employees, clients and the industry. How could someone who cherished all things intellectual lose their ability to retain thoughts and experiences? In their early 50s? What an incredible injustice this was. I waited until we hung up the phone. And I cried. For his loss. And for mine.

I’ve had a few opportunities to talk one-on-one with Chuck since learning of his diagnosis. One time I was so overwhelmed by my emotions that I lost my train of thought. He said, “Oh no, maybe it’s contagious.” He told me he was past the anger and had moved on to acceptance. He was still enjoying the things he loved most about his life: his amazing wife and three daughters, the outdoors and birds. He didn’t talk much about the present, but the past was as sharp as ever for him. In fact, he told me stories about his family I had never heard.

Last month, I had the good fortune of attending a reception where Chuck was honored by the Advertising Agency Federation of Baltimore with a Silver Medal Award for his many contributions to the industry. On the train ride to Baltimore, I was contemplating how aware he would be. I was told his wife and daughter would accept the award on his behalf. Not having seen him for several months, I was prepared for the worst. When I walked in, I heard one of his colleagues lean over to him and say, “Rosemary Ostmann just walked in.” Gulp. He needed to be told who I am. Exactly what I feared. But then his face lit up and he said, “Ro, thanks for coming,” which was followed by a big hug. Exhale.

When I was juggling my schedule in order to attend, one of my colleagues in Baltimore warned me that he wouldn’t remember the event. My going to the ceremony wasn’t about him. It was about me. And I was beyond grateful to get one more night with the Chuck who knows me.

The rest of the evening was filled with familiar faces and funny recollections. When it was time for the award, I was surprised and a little nervous as Chuck stepped up to the microphone. The crowd finally stopped clapping and sat down, and he opened with, “Well, Alzheimer’s sucks.” Classic Chuck.

Chuck’s wife has characterized this period of their lives as “The long goodbye.” While Chuck is very much still on this earth and enjoying his family and his hobbies, I guess it is time to say goodbye to my mentor:

Chuck, you are my own personal Steve Jobs. Much of what I learned from you makes me who I am today – as a business owner and as a person. You never just regurgitated what others in the industry were saying or doing. You had true vision. You took risks others weren’t taking. And I live a better, more interesting life because of it. You’re not perfect. You know that. But as the attendance at last month’s ceremony demonstrated, you’ve touched a lot of people’s lives. I am among many who owe at least part of their success to you. I know you’ve transcended the anger you originally experienced when you were first diagnosed. I’ll try to get beyond my own out of respect for you and your legacy. I will, however, always wonder what else was in that beautiful mind.

What makes people decide whether an apology is worthy of forgiveness? According to an article in yesterday’s Washington Post, there’s a huge body of research that explores this very subject. We are often counseling our clients on how to deal with a crisis and take responsibility for their actions.

There are many factors that lead to whether people are willing to forgive and forget. The article points to one in particular that I found interesting: Is the initial act viewed as intentional or a mistake? The author uses the example of Anthony Weiner and suggests that the reason people wouldn’t forgive his behavior is because it came across as intended. Arnold Schwarzenegger, on the other hand, was able to transcend past harassment allegations by suggesting that he didn’t understand his behavior was perceived as anything other than playful. This was, of course, before his more recent scandals for which he hasn’t been forgiven.

It’s an interesting finding and one that will make me think as we help our clients navigate crisis situations. But I have a hard time thinking of how Anthony Weiner could have sold his sexting controversy as unintentional.

Earlier today, a blogger I follow on Twitter posted a picture of back-to-school Crocs she purchased for her son. Crocs sells shoes for fall? Who knew? I was excited to see that she also posted a link to a back-to-school promotional video the company put on YouTube. Wow. More than 900,000 views. I took a look, as these are precisely the kinds of initiatives we’re working on with our clients. It’s an animated, oftentimes trippy portrayal of how back-to-school Crocs cure the end of summer blues. Imagine my surprise when the words, “They ain’t got no holes, but I swear they’re still Crocs.” Never mind that the video later calls school miserable. Now I know a video that insists on sanitized messaging won’t go viral and certainly won’t resonate with youth. But while this video has a lot of views, it doesn’t seem to win over kids. Take a look at the comments to see what I mean.

Just after I saw the Crocs video, I noticed the debacle over JC Penney’s “I’m too pretty to do homework so my brother has to do it for me” shirt. Of course, this item caused a major stir on social media channels and the company pulled the product and issued an apology. I never saw the product on JC Penney’s site, but the description that came up on Google said something like, “Who has time for homework when you have to check out the latest Justin Bieber album…”

Maybe I’m being naive or simply too stodgy. But I hope a brand’s ability to connect with today’s youth and respect for intellect are not mutually exclusive.

In April 2010, I wrote a post about a Facebook challenge run by Method, the home cleaning products purveyor. They rewarded their fans with a 50 percent discount for reaching their 10,000 fan milestone. Unfortunately, they faced a number of logistical challenges, too, and their wall lit up with complaints.

Last week they ran a similar promotion when they hit 50,000 “likes.” That’s a lot of growth in 16 months.

Unfortunately, it seems Method didn’t learn from its mistakes. While there are plenty of posts of gratitude, there are arguably as many of complaint. The promotion code didn’t work for some. The people in customer service couldn’t help. The list goes on. People are even complaining about why Method isn’t responding to the complaints.

I don’t think any brand should feel obligated to respond to each and every complaint on a Facebook wall. As Jonathan Salem Baskin pointed out in his comment to my last post, people who “like” Method on Facebook may have never spent one cent on their products. But I do think a post to the community that acknowledges the issues people faced and explains the limitations of the promotion is in order.

I also think it wasn’t the most thoughtful approach to issue the promotion on the eve of Hurricane Irene. Method may be based in California, but many of its East Coast customers (myself included) weren’t able to log on to even know about the promotion. Couldn’t they have said they’d make the announcement about the promotion once the hurricane subsided?

Maybe the third time will be the charm.

Ragan’s PR Daily recently ran a bylined article I wrote about the new face of the summer intern. Ironically, it’s a person who needs not show their face at all. Would you consider hiring an intern who never came into the office?

Last night, I took a short walk with my family before dinner. As we entered the park near our apartment, I was greeted by this sidewalk-chalk message from KC Kids, a local consignment shop for kids’ stuff. Sidewalk advertising ideas occasionally make their way into our brainstorms (yeah, we often step outside the traditional PR box), but we’ve never executed one. We’ve always decided to err on the side of caution, as the tactic is illegal — at least in New York, as Sony was recently reminded. However, some brands seem to get away with it: See last year’s campaign for Bravo by GoGORILLA Media.

In KC Kids’ case, I think it worked. The medium makes sense given the target audience. And the store is working to build a grassroots following in a small town. Unlike Sony’s situation (or the infamous Microsoft butterfly campaign that’s referenced in the article), there’s a slim chance anyone in Hoboken is going to come down on a small business for trying to create brand awareness this way. Besides, it’s raining as I type.

Next time, I hope they include a fun graphic element or clever copy. Adding a little entertainment value goes a long way in guerilla marketing.

Today was a first: I wore sunscreen and shorts to a business meeting.

Tracey at the main entrance

This morning, my colleague Tracey and I went to the Henry Kaufmann Campgrounds on Long Island as part of a project we’re doing on behalf of UJA-Federation. Our task is to help summer day camps rethink how they articulate the Jewish enrichment opportunities they offer. The challenge is their campers come from all different backgrounds; some of them have no Jewish affiliation at all. As this New York Times article points out, the camp marketplace is more competitive than ever.

During our visit, we were able to experience all the engaging activities that make kids come back to camp year after year. My favorite was the Teva Learning Center, where kids have an opportunity to learn about and develop a respect for our natural environment. There’s even an organic farming section that enables campers to enjoy the fruits (and vegetables) of their labor. While not overtly religious, the Teva experience is very much grounded in Jewish values of ecological wisdom.

Now that we’ve spent a day of fun at camp, the real work begins. In our much less exciting — albeit air conditioned — offices.

All too often, a company’s social media strategy and execution are placed in the hands of an intern or entry-level employee. The idea that young people “get it” more readily than their superiors makes some sense. But seasoned communicators they are not. Their efforts need to be directed by people who can ensure the strategy is in line with the brand and buy-in has to come from the top.

Similarly, social media should not be a small part of someone’s job or handed off to a part timer. While doing a competitive audit for a new client, we saw the following on a company’s Facebook page:

“This is the US page for fan and company interaction, but is not an outlet to customer service. This page is manned M-F 9-5 EDT. If you have a question or a issue with an order, please call … ”

We think it’s smart to clearly articulate what an individual should expect from a Facebook page. And most people would be willing to wait until the next business day to hear a response to something they posted on a company’s wall. However, to come right out and say that the page is only “manned” M-F 9-5 EDT demonstrates this brand is not committed to realizing the full potential of social media. That’s not engaging in conversation. That’s saying, “We’ll talk to you on our terms.”

In the months leading up to the 2008 presidential election, Barack Obama embraced social media as a way to galvanize voters from all walks of life. His campaign received major kudos from marketers who felt he was the only candidate who “got” social media. I remember being surprised how quickly the would-be president followed me back when I signed up to follow his feed. But I was disappointed when his tweets stopped coming after he was elected. In fact, I wrote a blog post about it back then.

Of course, many people have criticized President Obama for not being as effective a communicator once he won the election and losing the grassroots support that helped him get into office. His campaign did eventually start tweeting again. And just the other day, they announced he would start writing some of his own tweets, signing them BO.

Thanks to social media, people want and have even come to expect the inside track on the organizations and individuals they support. The main driver behind this shift is the decline of traditional information gatekeepers and the proliferation of “direct-to-consumer” channels. In other words, you don’t have to wait for a newspaper to endorse a political candidate or a television network to air a debate. You can just follow their tweets and ask your questions directly.

One difference between 2008 and 2012 may be the fact that more tweets are actually from the politician him- or herself as opposed to the campaign. There are both rewards and risks associated with this evolution – as Anthony Weiner demonstrated just a few weeks ago.

One aspect of social media that makes many clients nervous is the degree to which their customer service issues will play out publicly. Of course, for most high-profile companies, online conversation about their brand will happen whether they launch and maintain a Facebook page or Twitter account.

A while back, I was asked to speak to the American Bankers Association on how to “create buzz” online and off. In preparing my remarks, I looked to see what bank brands were doing via social media. While many had launched both Facebook pages and Twitter feeds, it appeared as though their customers were more likely to follow them on Twitter. It makes sense: You may not want to profess your “like” for your bank on your Facebook page, but Twitter presents a great way to keep up to date on new services and address any customer service issues.

The other day, when my bank – @TDBank_US – Tweeted something that appeared in my feed, I realized that the people in my branch had yet to resolve an issue for me. I opened a savings account for my newborn son and they were supposed to connect it to my online banking profile. Rather than asking a third time in the branch (yes, I still go into the branch for my business transactions), I decided to send them a direct message on Twitter. Within a couple of minutes, they responded that I should call a particular toll-free number and to let them know when the issue was resolved.

When I called, the person who answered the phone told me I needed to start a brand new online banking profile in order to add the savings account. I agreed to this, but then realized after we hung up that I lost all my bill pay info in the transition. I sent another direct message via Twitter reflecting my disappointment and the person on Twitter duty asked if they could have someone call me. Within a few minutes of receiving my phone number, someone from customer service called me and resolved the problem immediately. Apparently, I didn’t need to start a new profile, after all. The representative was extremely apologetic that the first person I spoke to was misinformed, which led me to the assumption that TD Bank takes it social media strategy very seriously and even puts its best and brightest on the case when a problem arises via Twitter.

I didn’t take my issue public (although I guess I am now), but I see consumers do it all the time. It’s part of the transparent world in which we all do business now. Preserving your brand’s reputation is not about trying to obscure customer complaints. It’s about demonstrating that you’re listening and resolving problems.

Next time I have an issue with a company, Twitter will be my first stop.