When Media Attention Becomes Toxic

A Fabulous Female Founder got a rude awakening to today’s social media climate.

Derived from a coaching client.

Dear FFF,

I am a PhD researcher on the cutting edge of traffic safety. I’ve built a firm of five staff, and work my ass off as our chief researcher and CEO. Recently, I was quoted in the New York Times and featured on the CBS Evening News. Naturally, I went ahead and posted on LinkedIn. Then, I got a bunch of snarky comments, ignorant and disrespectful questions, and pushback, mostly from men. 

I stayed up until midnight defending myself. I know that getting national media attention is good, and I want to capitalize on it. Instead, I’m simmering. How did you manage media attention in your career?

—Deer in Headlights 

Dear Deer in Headlights,

The short answer is: poorly. Or rather, I should say, reasonably well before the era of social media; poorly after that. 

The longer answer is that for many years, I sought media attention. I was trying to change the world and believed that all publicity was good publicity when it came to bicycle transportation. I published academic research and a book, did interviews and presentations, and was often written about in flattering ways. In my hometown Portland, I landed on the cover of three major publications and one anointed me “Bicycle Queen.” Nationally, I was featured on the Sundance Channel and profiled in Self magazine alongside both Serena Williams and First Lady Michelle Obama. I was confident in my purpose, abilities, and competence. I was happy to be the face of my companies. 

Then our bike share company took off and everything changed. As my media consultant at the time, Leslie, noted, “The more successful you are, the bigger the target on your back.” 

I’ve written several times about some of the problems we faced thanks to a software debacle and hurricane. Unfortunately, that wasn’t all. In the spring of 2013, two former employees from Capital Bike Share filed a complaint alleging underpayment of wages and benefits. 

The complaint shocked me. I had participated in a peer group of a dozen mission-driven company CEOs and had learned that our wages and benefits (generous PTO, a wellness stipend, healthcare, bonuses, 401k, and a sabbatical subsidy) were by far the richest. We offered an annual scholarship and paid internships; donated time and money to numerous non-profits; and had an energetic, dedicated staff in more than 20 cities. I was proud to be creating hundreds of new jobs in a new industry that was doing good for the world.

So when our HR Director James came to me and explained that we were being accused of underpaying people under something called the federal prevailing wage doctrine (relevant because the District of Columbia is considered a federal jurisdiction), I was flabbergasted. How could we possibly be accused of underpaying people? That wasn’t us. I hadn’t personally been involved in setting up any of the bike share systems or hiring people, a former leader had handled that…maybe she’d screwed something up? But hadn’t our client approved our wage structure? I ordered him to fix it, immediately. If we weren’t paying well or right, we needed to own up, pay up, apologize, and be done with it.  

James, a solid guy with decades of experience, calmly explained that we could not “fix” it because we knew neither the details of the complaint nor the process to come. One of the complainants had quit in the wake of a non-work-related injury, while the other had been let go for harassing staff; James suspected a union was involved. We’d already retained a D.C.-based law firm that directed me not to speak to the media, other than to say, “We are reviewing the matter and cannot comment at this time.” Wages and benefits would be frozen while the investigation was underway. 

I whined that this was all wrong, that we were the good guys, creating lots of new cool jobs, good for the earth! A union was involved? Huh? Unions were meant for big bureaucracies or bad-behaving companies, not tiny companies like ours, and certainly not mission-driven companies focused on making the world a better place. (I wasn’t anti-union, per se. I was anti-anything that would add more pain to our problem-plagued company, which had just come through a major cash flow crisis and was still teetering on the brink of collapse if Citi Bike did not launch within a few weeks. I was opposed to anything that would add more to my overflowing plate. And, I was against adding costs, especially when our low-margin contracts were locked in for years at a time.)

Unfortunately, all the whining in the world wasn’t going to change the reality of the situation nor the media fervor that began when a letter addressed to me and signed by about 20 former and current employees was posted on a workers’ rights website, followed by an article in the Washington Post. Seemingly overnight, I was vaulted out of the land of praise and positivity and into today’s equivalent of a medieval public flogging arena. I was a true deer in the headlights, stunned by the new, lightning-fast media world that ignites sparks into raging wildfires in the blink of an eye. 

A group of “protestors” accompanied by a blogger/photographer invaded my office, chanting and screaming and demanding to speak to me, reducing a staffer to tears. I wasn’t there at that time; James heard them out and got them to leave. But the damage was done: once the toothpaste was out of the tube, it couldn’t be put back in.

On social media platforms, my decades of active transportation leadership were buried under an avalanche of negativity, including comments like, “disingenuous,” “milking her bicycle advocacy work for all its worth,” “avoiding doing all the hard work so that they can just focus on profits,” “rich,” “elite,” “useless,” and so on. I know this because I ignored Leslie’s wise suggestion to not look at the comments. (When I vented to her about them, she snapped, “STOP. People are idiots. Don’t take it personally. Move on.” Sure, easy for her to say.)

No, it wasn’t all bad; some comments were downright funny (calling me “spawn of Ferengi”) or strange (“I'd rather see people waddle than pedal. That's what webbed toes are for. She ought to grow some if she wants to belong.”) Some were supportive. But the vast majority, from my admittedly biased, sensitive, taking-them-personally-perspective, were vicious, accusing me and my companies of racism, dishonesty, greed, and corruption. And each one, despite my knowledge of their ridiculous, fact-free cruelty, propelled me back to being teased on the playground for wearing cheap clothes, condemned to hell by the Christian kids in junior high, and rejected by the University of Texas honor’s program. I’d tried so hard to be good, to do good, to make a difference in this world, and it didn’t matter. It just didn’t matter.

I also picked up a stalker who claimed he’d invented Bitcoin and kept posting nastiness, emailing, calling, stopping by my office and home, and even calling clients to allege we owed him money. 

My (male) business partners, including our CEO, were completely spared. (At the time, I was President of the consulting company and VP of the bike share company, with 20 percent ownership in each.) Interesting, right? None of them were targeted by protesters, got slapped on the cover of a local lefty periodical that villainizes prominent people, or pestered by a Wall Street Journal reporter day and night for weeks on end. None were even mentioned by name.

I rationalized that as the public face, what did I expect? Hadn’t I reveled in all the accolades and awards and attention, before things turned dark? Don’t all leaders eventually get torn apart? Look at what the suffragists had gone through for decades to get us the basic freaking right to vote! This was clearly another variation on resistance to change. And wasn’t it actually good that none of my partners were targeted, limiting the overall distraction? I coached myself every damn day that it was all noise, just noise, and I had to be strong and keep going, ignore the haters, rise above it all, hold my head up high.

My girlfriends screamed sexism, while our D.C.-based labor law attorney told me pointedly that unions like to target female business leaders because they’ll likely be more sympathetic, sensitive to criticism, and willing to wade in personally, which is a no-no in a union drive situation. 

For the next couple of years, I navigated (poorly) what felt like constantly negative and inaccurate media pressure, as if me and my companies were plump, delicious worms for gossipy myna birds on wires up above, chattering away, recycling old news, shitting on my head below. My initial feelings of dismay and concern morphed into fury about media sloppiness, including what I came to see as betrayal on the part of a number of former allies and friends in Portland; the wrongness of being presumed guilty without proof; my inability to fight back, right the supposed wrongs, or get the investigation to move faster than a snail’s pace; and the impact on my staff and companies’ reputations. Plus, I was furious at myself for wasting mental energy being furious. To the extent possible, I avoided social situations and hid out in my home, where my bonus baby Levi melted my misery with his babbling, toddling, and cuddling, his very existence a miraculous antidote to the relentlessly poisonous stress. 

I tried to hold my head up high and find strength from the impact we were making as we successfully launched bike share in NYC (CitiBike), then Chicago (Divvy), Columbus (CoGo), San Francisco (BABS), and Seattle (Pronto). (Stories in those cities trended positive.) I tried to change the narrative from software woes and labor complaint to safe and awesome by publishing a report with fun facts about our fleet of 17,000 bikes, like zero fatalities, 118 million trips to the moon traveled, 1.2 billion calories (2.5 million orders of McDonald’s French Fries) burned, and 6,700 cars worth of annual greenhouse gas emissions saved. But my joyful positivity got no traction. 

By the time we sold the bike share firm and I stepped out of the consulting firm, I had withdrawn from public life, my love for Portland shattered, my feelings about unions soured, my view of the media overturned, my passion for active transportation muted, and my desire for public attention negated.   

***

Deer in Headlights, I know my story is over the top compared to what you’re dealing with, and possibly way more than you wanted to hear, but I hope it helps put things in perspective. 

Let’s take a closer look at your situation. 

You posted something on LinkedIn to which people responded with interest rather than just thumbs up and heart emojis. You didn’t mention anyone criticizing you personally. I get it that some of the comments rubbed you the wrong way, but I’d take them as a positive sign of content engagement. And please, follow Leslie’s directive and do not take any of those comments personally! Truly. Who knows if they read the full story or have any clue what they’re talking about. Take the high road. You know your stuff. You know who you are. You know what you’re offering. 

Next, I’m curious if your post was a one-off or part of a media strategy. It’s pretty hard to get much value out of one-off posts these days. If you don’t already have one, I’d encourage you to develop a plan for regular and intentional postings curated to support your strategic goals, along with a protocol about who and how to engage. (There are many media consultants who can help you craft such a strategy.)

Now, let’s talk about your position as the CEO and founder. I question if responding to comments is the highest and best use of your time. Perhaps this is a better role for one of your staff? If so, a protocol could include scanning the comments for current or potential clients, teaming partners, thought leaders, and allies who can advance your business. The others you/they can ignore, click a thumbs-up emoji, or write, “Thanks for your input.” Then move on. Take no more than 30 minutes a week to engage in this way. And NEVER stay up late responding to comments. I’m gonna be your mama for a moment and forbid you to look at social media including LinkedIn after 6 pm. 

After six months, take a close look at your analytics. How many new leads and relationships have you gotten? If zero, recalibrate. Maybe social media isn’t worth your time in your business or industry. 

Finally, if you run into challenges like I did, please find a way to fight back. My biggest regret is not turning the whole shebang over to Leslie, who could have enlisted an army of influencers to drown out the critics, keep up a steady stream of positivity, and steer the media in a different direction.

And, in case you’re curious, the Department of Labor found no fault after a multi-year investigation, well after we sold the company, during which time most of the systems did unionize. 

Deer in Headlights, I’m so glad you asked before it became a crisis. You’ve got this!!

Wishing you all the best, 

-FFF