Cheers to G-d’s Work
There Are a Lot of Hard Jobs Out There
Let’s take a moment to appreciate the people who do truly tough work. The ones that make the rest of us grateful for our office chairs, standing desks, and noise-canceling headphones.
There’s the sewer inspector, braving the literal underground world most of us pretend doesn’t exist. The crime scene cleaner, dealing with situations that would make even the toughest true-crime junkie shudder. The high-rise window washer, suspended hundreds of feet in the air with only a harness and nerves of steel. And, of course, the porta-potty maintenance crews doing the Lord’s work, especially at music festivals in the summer.
To all of them, I say: respect.
But today, I’d like to give a special shout-out to another group of professionals currently living through an absolute nightmare: airline crisis communications teams.
When Your Job Is Putting Out Fires…On a Plane
If you work in crisis communications for a major airline right now, you deserve a raise, a vacation, and maybe a deep tissue massage to release the stress knots in your shoulders. Because the last two months? Brutal.
Near-daily flight delays and cancellations, mechanical failures, planes losing wheels mid-air, door panels blowing off, engines catching fire, and, somehow, the absolute PR horror show of human remains being found in an airplane wheel well. Oh, and let’s not forget the ongoing Boeing debacle—where even the planes seem to be asking for a break.
The airline crisis comms teams are waking up each morning with one eye on the news, praying that their company name isn’t trending for the wrong reasons. And when it inevitably is? It’s time to suit up, spin, and damage-control like their careers depend on it—because they do.
The Impossible Task of Making Bad News Sound…Less Bad
The art of crisis communications is making terrifying situations sound reassuring. Imagine being the person who has to craft a statement when a plane door detaches in flight.
Before PR: “A plane door blew off mid-air, exposing passengers to the open sky.”
After PR: “Our aircraft experienced an unexpected depressurization event, which was promptly and professionally managed by our highly trained crew. Passenger safety remained our top priority at all times.”
It’s not lying, it’s framing.
And it’s a relentless job. Because no matter how well they spin it, no matter how quickly they roll out statements, there’s always the next crisis. Social media never sleeps, reporters don’t wait, and there’s no such thing as a slow news cycle anymore.
The Human Toll of Crisis Comms
I spent two decades in global corporate communications, and I can tell you: this kind of work isn’t just high-pressure, it’s personal. The people handling these crises aren’t robots churning out statements; they’re humans dealing with the weight of their company’s reputation, the safety of customers, and the very real anger of the public.
They’re working around the clock, rewriting the same messaging for the tenth time, handling calls with executives in full-blown panic mode, and trying (unsuccessfully) to sleep while mentally drafting responses for tomorrow’s headlines.
They’re also the first to be blamed when things go sideways. Because when you’re the messenger, people tend to shoot first and ask questions later.
So, to the Airline Crisis Comms Teams: We See You
To those poor souls currently drowning in statements, press briefings, and media firestorms, you’re doing the best you can with an impossible job.
You can’t control the weather, the mechanics, or the questionable manufacturing practices of certain aircraft companies (cough Boeing cough). But you can craft a message that at least tries to keep the public from running for the exits.
May your emails be read before they’re tweeted. May your executives listen to your advice. And may you, one day soon, get a vacation that doesn’t involve dealing with an in-flight emergency.
Until then, deep breaths, extra coffee, and good luck. You need it. Godspeed.