The power of a simple response

Ghost your ex, not reporters.

There are three types of flack — defined as a spokesperson, press secretary or communications adviser who deals with reporters — that I’ve encountered working on behalf of political figures.

There are the GATEKEEPERS:

This is the run-of-the-mill flack, who is overly cautious about making a career-blemishing mistake with a reporter but helpful enough to answer rudimentary questions and facilitate an interview. Their intentions are mostly noble. But they are not usually shaping grand strategy in private meetings with the principal, and don’t know the machinations of their boss inside-and-out. They’ll play the role of source, but only to the extent of offering a usually unremarkable quote on triple background without attribution. What they do know is how to keep the trains running on time and their middling boss relatively happy. Happy hour starts at 5 p.m. sharp — and for this flack, most things can wait until the next morning.

There are the AGGRESSORS:

The hyper-ambitious, political junkie who has an unhealthy Twitter addiction and is constantly assessing ways to pitch reporters. In fact, they’re kind of obsessed with journalists, media and the larger political parlor game. They’re always seeking to get better at it, scrutinizing how their colleagues and rivals handle a crisis scenario and quarterbacking how they’d have done it differently, meaning better. They dream of being White House press secretary, treat #comms as an offensive sport and are relentless in landing even the most minor P.R. “wins.” They look down on colleagues who are simply reacting to news, rather than trying to shape it. They hand-deliver scoops to reporters and achieve an orgasmic-like sensation as they watch their planted story gain virality. No fingerprints, of course! But they know that this was their genius and are savvy enough to subtly make sure the rest of their circle and rivals-in-waiting know about it one day too.

And then there are the GHOSTS:

Those who simply don’t respond to a significant bulk of requests, small or large. Once in a while, they’ll indulge The Times, because well, it’s The Times. But they regularly ignore badgering inquiries and even benign ones. Their local radio and TV stations back home also get the cold shoulder. Maybe their boss simply does not care much about his clip file. Maybe he or she does not particularly like the boss. In many cases, these flacks serve politicians who will be safely re-elected without much need to drive a message or massage their coverage stream. On the rare, extraordinary cases they choose to engage, they’re asking for more information than they’re ever intent on providing: “What’s your angle? Where will this run? Who else are you talking to?” Follow-ups languish. But the standard policy is to ignore and eschew, barely even offering a limp-kneed apology that’s often deployed by cheery flacks who tell reporters to fuck off: “Sorry, can’t help you with this one!” This, as you can imagine, is the most confounding set of flacks. As their job description is to…communicate. And yet they have little interest in doing so.

I would estimate roughly that these three categories — of gatekeepers, aggressors and ghosts — each comprise about a third of the flacks who work on Capitol Hill, the White House and inside political campaigns.

And it’s certainly true that a gatekeeper can have instances of being an aggressor and that an aggressor has utilized the ghosting tactic to strategically ice a reporter. No flack is 100% categorically pure.

But I write this as a clarion call to new flacks or flacks attempting to hone their craft and yes, the flacks who have ghosted me:

The power of a simple response does wonders. For you. For your boss. And of course, for the reporters you’ll deal with over your career.

It is such a smart simple mantra to adopt, not only in work but in life.

Every message you transfer each day — by phone, text, email, Slack, Signal, Zoom or glance — has a consequence.

But not responding — perpetually being a GHOST flack — is the worst practice that engenders suspicion and distrust. What’s the reason they’re avoiding questions? Do they not know the answers? Are they too lazy to find them? Or it it more sinister, is there something to hide?

I wholly understand that flacks have a media hierarchy of who to tend to most closely. All requests can’t possibly be fulfilled. It’s not in a flack’s interest to offer answers on every query.

But a brief response, with candor, and even a little humor, can go a long way.

“Hey — off the record, I can’t help you on this right at this moment. We’re not commenting. But let’s keep in touch and connect over the next couple of weeks.”

How long did that take to write? 12 seconds?

Lots of flacks employ this acceptable tactic. “Thanks for checking in!” Yes, it’s a dodge, and not ideal. But it’s an effortless reply that greases the relationship for the future — even if it takes a few days or an entire week later.

Think of the flip side.

It’s equally intolerable if a reporter were to take the same spurning approach, ignoring a flack’s question or complaint about a story that’s been published.

Any reporter or operative worth his or her salary doesn’t miss an email. Being behind on email is acceptable, even common. Missing it altogether is bullshit.

This is why, over the years, I’ve tried to be vigilant about taking time to respond to (nearly) every message I receive from a reader, viewer or flack.

The only exception I make is if the message veers into extreme personal insults or crazy conspiracy theories. Those aren’t worth the battle.

But even fiery attacks are worth a response.

Here’s just an example of one from this week, from a story I wrote about a political ad against Rand Paul.

This reader obviously has a strong opinion about Rand Paul, but I plainly stated that I detailed the senator’s position on the anti-lynching legislation within the story. I understand he thinks that Paul’s opponent launched a “smear,” but welcome to politics. I also thanked this disgruntled reader for taking the time to read.

In most instances, I find that even unhappy customers just want to be heard and are surprised that a reporter took time to write back, even if only briefly.

This is why I think even a simple response can resonate so powerfully in an age rife with cynicism and doubt.