What makes you want to be what you want to be when you grow up?
Like many a person with eclectic interests (writing, music, art, travel and, yes, cash) and the fuzzy liberal arts degree to prove it, I ventured off into the world of periadulthood with nary a clue as to what I would do to house and feed myself, much less the wonderful children I would be fortunate enough to have.
My professional calling didn’t arrive until my late mid-20s, after a few years spent bumming around the animation and video businesses, playing in rock bands and writing record reviews for freebie vinyl. That’s when I stumbled into the broad world that goes by the narrow moniker of “public relations.” This shift came courtesy of a recommendation put forth for my varied interests by that bible for career changers and flounders, What Color Is Your Parachute?
So what kind of hype have I plied in my three decades in this business, with 26 of those years as head of my own boutique gang of guerillas? It has been way more of the P.T. Barnum and John Waters spectacle variety than the barely-veiled liemanship of President George W. Bush’s smarmy spinmeister Ari Fleischer or his clueless acting successor, Dana Perino.