After all the advice on career “planning” I’ve given over the years to communicators just starting out in their careers, I wish I could say I’d planned it all, but I didn’t, I just “lucked out.”
In my home province of Manitoba, most communicators are graduates of the Red River College Creative Communications program. I’m not. I’m a graduate of what I think of as the “Jean Brown’s training program for journalists.” This “exclusive school” operated out of the old Winnipeg Free Press building at 300 Carlton Street in the late 60s and early 70s, masquerading as the “Women’s News department.”
Jean was a journalist of the “old” school. At a time and in a profession where women seldom received respect, she honed her craft “on the job.” When former Ottawa mayor, Charlotte Whitton, once said, “Whatever women do, they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult,” Ms Whitton might have been talking about Jean.
Other denizens of the news room challenged Jean’s knowledge and expertise at their own risk. Jean was never loud, or vulgar, but when she spoke, everyone listened. Even the publisher, Richard S. Malone, the “Brigadier” as he was known out of his hearing, treated her with respect.
As the editor of the Women’s News, she taught a string of green young female want-a-be journalists how to identify a “news” hinge, create a “lead,” and write a story that was accurate, informative and interesting. We were “Jean’s girls,” and NO ONE hassled us. If someone had something to say about how we were doing our job, that person spoke to Jean. If Jean felt there was valid criticism to be passed along, she did so. If the comment was complimentary, the person was usually allowed to speak to us directly.
From Jean, I learned to be a reporter, how to edit someone else’s work without re-writing it, and, by example, how to be a boss.
Being a “journalist” sounds fascinating, from the outside. It impresses the hell out of people you meet, but the “fascinating” aspect wears off quickly for the practitioners, especially when the money is poor, as it was at the Free Press. It is day after day of doing the same old things: making the phone calls, doing the interviews, attending the events, returning to the news room and writing the story, then repeating as required. I lasted for three years, mostly because of Jean.
As 1971 was coming to a close, I applied for the job of Executive Director/Editor of the Psychiatric Nurses Association of Canada (PNAC), largely on a whim. After all, who advertises a job at Christmas time? I didn’t think I had a prayer of getting it, but I was frustrated, the year was ending, and the ad said being an “editor” was an important part of the job. Editing was one aspect of my job that I still enjoyed.
One of the questions at my hiring interview was whether, if the association decided to publish a book to mark its upcoming 25th anniversary, I could write it. “Of course,” said I, thankful that they couldn’t see my knees shaking underneath the table. The chair of the hiring committee told me afterwards that they knew I was bluffing, but, “You did it so well!” I was the committee’s second choice; they couldn’t afford their first. For me, coming from what was notorious for being the lowest paid paper in Canada, the salary seemed like a fortune.
I was 25 years old.
I immediately found myself traveling the country and responsible for a national organization’s member relations, government relations, media relations, intra-association relations, etc. etc. etc. Of course, I was also responsible for my own typing and filing, but the Federal Minister of Health and my counterpart at the Canadian Nurses’ Association didn’t know that.
I was terrified! I had a ball!
It was during this period that I joined Corporate Communicators Canada, the professional organization that would eventually merge with the International Association of Business Communicators (IABC). As I said, I was terrified and I knew I didn’t know what I was doing, so I asked a friend if there was a course I could take, or an organization I could join. She told me about Corporate Communicators.
My job with PNAC lasted for two years; it turned out they couldn’t afford me either. Shortly after it ended, I “fell” into the newly created position of Communications Officer for the Manitoba Government Employees’ Association (MGEA), which has since become the Manitoba Government Employees Union (MGEU). At that point in history, the MGEA was in the process of morphing from a social club into a union, and its enthusiastic communications committee wanted a communicator on staff.
I was the candidate chosen. I suspect it didn’t hurt that I was known as an active volunteer in the local women’s movement – the YWCA, the Manitoba Action Committee on the Status of Women. The MGEA (motivated by an assertive young female communications committee chair) was anxious to improve its image among its women members. I suspect I am still one of the few non-members ever hired to communicate on behalf of a union. Like most member organizations, unions tend to hire from within.
As MGEA’s new communications officer, I was responsible for communications with both the membership and the public during its first round of “nose-to-nose” labour negotiations with the Manitoba government. Every morning during negotiations, I met with Executive Director John Halliwell, who was the union’s Chief Negotiator. John would give me a play-by-play of what had happened at the negotiating table the day before (including his commentary on the mistakes made by the government negotiator). We would then work together to decide what should be included in the union’s daily report to the membership. I got a crash course in labour management relations and negotiating from one of the best.
It was also during this period that IABC came to Canada, and I have to admit that I was dragged into it “kicking and screaming.” As an ardent Canadian nationalist, I did not like the idea that we were being “taken over” by an American organization. Little did I know; in the years since, I’ve sometimes thought our American colleagues should have complained about being taken over by the Canadians.
The first Canadian IABC conference was held here in Winnipeg. Immediately afterwards, the eligible members of the conference organizing committee (of which I was one) wrote IABC’s accreditation exam. I DO mean immediately; we commenced writing at 8 a.m. on the Saturday morning following the conference’s closing banquet. I still can’t believe I passed.
This was also the period when I took a foray into a very different kind of communications… writing an opinion column called Feminist.
1975 was International Women’s Year, and Feminist was my own private International Women’s Year project. It appeared in the Free Press for three years under the byline of Linda Shirray, my married name. My first paycheque went to buy a dishwasher.
I took great satisfaction in what I wrote; I still occasionally meet someone who remembers a column. A lot of “me” went into it, but also a great deal of my grandmothers, my mother, my teachers, my sister, my friends (and not-friends) in the movement. I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was writing it, not just for those of us who were living the issue at the time, but also for my daughter and the generations of young women who were going to come after us.
Believe me, we HAVE come a long way!
1975 was also the year I left Manitoba to practice what was becoming my profession in Saskatchewan. I didn’t intend to do it. I just intended to demonstrate to the federal government that I was a good communicator who should be carefully considered the next time a job came up here in Manitoba. Of course, I really LIKED the job description of the position that was being offered in Saskatoon, and the director of the department that was hiring really LIKED my qualifications, but my husband had just started a new job, we’d just bought a house, I didn’t want to MOVE.
It’s the only time in my career, I’ve ever negotiated well! After all, I didn’t want the job; I just didn’t want to REFUSE. I got the bright idea of demanding top dollar on the salary scale and pricing myself out of the running. HA! What happened was that I was offered the top dollar, and ended up accepting both the money and the move. The DOWNside was that the job didn’t end up being quite what I’d expected; I learned the hard way to treat government job descriptions with extreme skepticism. The UPside was that the benefits of my salary negotiations continued to pay off for my entire time with the federal government.
What my time with that first federal department did do was give me a chance to balance my experience (remember that earlier Executive Director title) with my age (I was still in my 20s). Also, before I got too frustrated, another “lucky” opportunity opened up. The Correctional Service of Canada posted a communications opening: it was English language only, in Saskatoon, a grade level above the position I was in. I was a little nervous about a job with Corrections (talk about a bastion of male supremacy) but, after all, if I wasn’t guilty of anything, what could they DO to me?
I discovered what they could DO to me. They could give me my DREAM job! A communications job that REALLY mattered!
Realistically, in most circumstances, when communications pulls a “blooper,” the worst that happens is that the boss and/or the company gets embarrassed. While this may mean a permanent career decision for the communicator involved, it’s not much more than a ripple in the greater scheme of life.
Corrections, on the other hand, had documented proof that, when communications “blew” it, people died. The job mattered! I was responsible for media relations and crisis communications in a region that covered three and half provinces, plus a huge territory; I learned about managing staff and handling a budget; I taught an interested staffer how to write “news style,” and helped to create a seminar that trained wardens, deputy wardens, and directors of parole to better understand and deal with the news media and the public. When a crisis hit, the stress level skyrocketed! I discovered I was an adrenalin junkie. My skills envelope expanded exponentially. I loved it.
Unfortunately, the time came when the Powers That Be at headquarters decided to centralize communications in Ottawa. I was a Prairie product born and bred, I knew if I ever went to Ottawa, I’d never get out, and I didn’t want my two little kids to grow up thinking Ottawa was “normal.” I put out “feelers,” and, lo and behold, the Manitoba Attorney-General’s department had an opening because the existing communicator, a fellow named Brian Phillips (now an IABC colleague of many years), had just got a new job.
From a professional perspective, the position of Director of Communications for the Attorney-General’s department was a great job. It gave me the opportunity to become acquainted with the “rest” of the justice system (law enforcement, civil law and criminal prosecutions, courts, the judiciary). It opened the door to the world of desktop computers and electronic publishing – I spent my first three weeks on the job learning my way around the keyboard of my new personal computer (a Macintosh) and getting acquainted with Pagemaker. I polished my skills in media relations, crisis communications, and planning and implementing a communications campaign; I also learned to write speeches for others (I’d been writing my own for years). I won my first IABC award, a Silver Leaf in Marketing in 1989 for Manitoba’s Tough New Driving Legislation. Eventually, when the provincial government created Manitoba Justice and transferred the corrections division to what we in the “business” believed was its natural “home,” I even got Corrections back under my umbrella.
It wasn’t the “same,” but it was good. Too good to last, I guess.
In 1991, the province decided it didn’t want to communicate anymore. That may not be the official description, but, from my perspective, that’s what happened. A new centralized communications unit was created, all the directors of communications in the departments got their pink slips, and some of us learned very quickly that we were NOT welcome under the new regime.
I decided it was time to experiment with new ways of using my old skills. I accepted a position with the Human Rights Commission, first as an Intake Counselor, later as a Human Rights Officer. It was interesting, I learned a lot. One of the most important things I learned is that I’m a communicator. In 1994, after a brief stint with the Law Enforcement section of Manitoba Justice, I decided to do what I’d always said I wouldn’t do – go into business for myself.
Several years earlier, I’d started doing some part-time teaching for the University of Winnipeg’s continuing education division, and I’d discovered I loved it. My mother, a retired teacher, thought it was a “hoot” because I’d made the mistake of declaring as a teenager, “I don’t know what I’m going to be, but I’ll NEVER be a teacher.”
Teaching others to do what I loved to do supplied me with my communications “fix” during my years outside the field. When I decided to return to communications, and there were no fulltime jobs available, it seemed natural to explore a career as an independent consultant and instructor. I enjoyed many aspects of the experience, but I also found that succeeding financially required too much “selling” of myself, as opposed to “selling” of the function. I decided I was better suited to working for someone else than for myself.
At just the right time, Manitoba Public Insurance was looking for a Senior Media Relations Officer. Everything happens for a reason. Over my 12 years at MPI, I’ve moved from Media Relations to Coordinator of Information Services, to Broker Communications Officer and, finally, to Supervisor of Broker Communications. I was a member of an exceptional communications team that won a whole “slew” of awards from IABC and others in 1997. I’ve worked for some great people, hired and supervised others.
MPI has supported my involvement in IABC (which has been an essential support to me at every step in my career) and encouraged and supported my commitment to lifelong learning. During my 12 years at MPI, I’ve completed a corporate certificate in Supervision and my provincial Certificate in Adult Education. I’ve almost completed my Certificate in Management. Ironically, the courses I’m missing are Effective Oral Communication and Effective Written Communication, because I’ve never got around to assembling portfolios for the prior learning assessment process. Maybe I’ll do that next year.
Now I’m moving on to the next stage. After July 4th, I will no longer have to get up in the morning and go to work in order to earn a living. It’s a very scary reality to contemplate. I will, however, continue to be a communicator, and a committed member of IABC.
It’s been a “slice!”
p.s. The preceding may be “too long” for a post, but it’s here to share with friends and colleagues who couldn’t make it to my retirement “bash.” L2
