The Art of Explaining Other People’s Mistakes

Being the bearer of bad news is never fun. But being the bearer of bad news caused by someone else's questionable decision-making? That's a special kind of torture. It's like being asked to perform a Shakespearean monologue about a dumpster fire.

Have you ever been asked to stand in front of a room and explain another person’s mistake? Or give a presentation about why something didn’t work? It’s a bit like being handed a live grenade and asked to make a compelling case for its recreational use.

A joke about being a communications officer is you have to explain the moral shortcomings and ethical failures of others. It's not just a job; it's a high-wire act performed without a safety net, all while maintaining a polite smile and a professional demeanor. It's an exercise in mental gymnastics that would make an Olympic athlete blush.

Imagine this: You're called into a meeting where the atmosphere is so tense you could cut it with a knife. The reason? Someone, somewhere, royally screwed up. And now, it's your turn to be the face of accountability. The task is simple: explain why the project didn’t just miss the mark but landed in an entirely different zip code.

A joke about being a communications officer is you have to explain the moral shortcomings and ethical failures of others. Yes, it would be great to say that because the CEO is a narcissist whose ego wrote a check, we can't cash it unless we do these layoffs. Or this person just didn't do their damn job, so now we all get to suffer. Or, yes, this person might have eaten lead paint chips as a youngster, and now we're dealing with the outcome. Or, to quote the classic Jackie Gleason: "Behold the glorious results of a misspent youth."

The first rule of this dance is never to point fingers. No, your job is to weave a compelling narrative that the audience forgets they're holding pitchforks. "While we experienced some unforeseen challenges," you might start, "we've gained invaluable insights." Translation: Someone forgot to do their homework, and now we're all in detention.? When I say, "We're facing some unforeseen challenges," I mean, "Someone royally messed up, and now we're scrambling to fix it." And when I say, "We're exploring alternative solutions," I mean, "We have no idea what we're doing, but we're hoping no one notices."

Then comes the delicate art of euphemism. In the lexicon of the communications officer, 'miscommunication' covers everything from a minor oversight to a full-blown disaster. "There were some miscommunications that we are now addressing," you explain, all the while internally screaming, "They didn't read the damn email!"

As you dive deeper into your explanation, you must channel your inner diplomat. It's about finding that sweet spot between honesty and damage control. "We recognize that our initial strategy was ambitious and are realigning our goals to match our resources better." This loosely translates to: "We aimed for the stars but forgot to check if we had enough fuel."

Framing the response to any crisis is never easy. Everybody is a PR expert, just like they are all marketing experts. So they all have their own ideas. In my glorious communications career, I have had more than one senior leader start a conversation about a crisis with "Here's the spin!" Okay, how about you first tell me what happened? To quote Officer Joe Friday, "Just the facts."

Once you get the facts and confirm that no little communication helpers plan to stand in front of the room to deliver any messaging, you can frame the messaging. The true artistry lies in what comes next: the Q&A session. This is where your mettle is tested, as colleagues and stakeholders fire questions with the precision of a marksman. Each query is a potential landmine, and your responses must be crafted with a bomb disposal expert's finesse. "What measures are in place to ensure this doesn’t happen again?" they ask. You respond, "We’re implementing robust new protocols," which is a polite way of saying, "We're trying to prevent another circus."

Finally, as the presentation draws to a close, you must leave the audience with a sense of hope and optimism. "We’re confident that these changes will lead to a more efficient and effective operation moving forward," you conclude. In other words, "We're crossing our fingers and hoping for the best."

So, the next time you see a communications officer standing at the front of the room, remember that they’re not just explaining another person's mistake. They’re performing a delicate balancing act, juggling honesty, diplomacy, and facts to keep the ship afloat. And if they do their job well, you'll feel reassured, even if you're unsure why.

Because at the end of the day, the real skill of a communications officer isn’t just in explaining away the blunders of others—it’s in making you believe that, despite it all, the ship is sailing smoothly. So, next time you witness one of us in action, spare a thought for the unsung hero behind the polished smile. We’re the ones who turn chaos into coherence, one artfully crafted sentence at a time. Elizabeth Schenk Bill Mahon Richard Jones James Young