Dino Baskovic Can't Lose

Earlier Wednesday morning, he or she was tweeting on behalf of the Chrysler account. As I and many social-media pros do, this person probably had multiple desktop applications open on their screen, or maybe one app that fed multiple Twitter feeds—one of those being a personal account. One misfired tweet laden with the F-bomb, followed by immediate panic and what must have been some horribly uncomfortable phone calls, and by the afternoon said staffer was severed from said interactive agency as confirmed by the automaker.

(Read the offending tweet here, which was first RT'ed by @tverma29 and later reported on by Jalopnik, Mashable, The Detroit Free Press and even HuffPo before it was later regurgitated by USA Today, CNET, Autoblog and other outlets. For the record, @tverma29 has a name, and Trisha wryly gives her take on her personal blog.)

Everybody has an opinion on this incident, whether the punishment fit the crime, if one could call it that. Did Chrysler and New Media Strategies do the right thing, the only thing to do in this case and terminate the employee, or should they have taken a page from last month's Dogfish-Red Cross case? I'm torn, to be honest. I see every side of this, from Chrysler needing to act swiftly to protect its consumer brand to NMS needing to preserve the agency-client relationship at all costs, to coming to the defense of the pour soul at the center of it all. Hey, that could one day be someone from my social-media team. That could be me.

Sure mistakes happen, though for as forgiving a society as we claim to be, we are first-most cold and unforgiving, all too quick to cast the first stone, calling "OUT!" at the first strike. That's not a complaint, that's just reality. Face it, dropping the F-bomb, even accidentally, was a career-limiting move well before the web. I am a bit perplexed that NMS won't so much as acknowledge the incident on their website, blog, Twitter or Facebook. But I know all too well how that can go. Imagine the conversation: "Utter so much as a hint of this on any of your sites and we'll lawyer up." Maybe that's an unfair assumption, and perhaps both agency* and client are working up some sort of joint mea culpa, potentially to pre-empt any of those year-end business blunder lists.

But what of this mystery offender in question, alleged critic of Motor City traffic and current jobseeker? I don't really care what was going through his or her mind at the time, and I'm sure this person will land on both feet just fine. How, exactly, is what most intrigues me. Will we see this character at a conference any time soon, recounting that crazy day in March when their world turned upside down in a matter of minutes? Can they parlay this into a guest spot on Freakonomics Radio or a better gig or whatever golden egg gets laid before them, being a little older, a bit wiser?

Or will it all be a waste, just another cautionary tale for community managers to consider while a would-be web genius dons a smock at Starbucks? Because that would make me one angry f#@$%!...

* Interestingly enough, one of my Twitter followers pointed out that NMS seems to like a loose tongue.

It was 1997, and I'd just relocated to Detroit to intern for a PR firm. I serviced several automotive accounts and fast learned that the North American International Auto Show was pretty much Mecca for the OEMs. Heck, I even learned what "OEM" meant.

Things were different then. There was no Twitter account for the show—for that matter, there was no Twitter. The old MSN CarPoint was the official website of the show, and if there were ever open discussion boards on that site, I'm guessing the top car execs weren't logged on congratulating each other with "Neat concept, can we steal? LOLz!" or "Aw, shucks, we didn't win car or truck of the year, but great for those other guys!"

So why are today's breed of execs doing just that? The slew of tweets these last few days between some well-known Motor City marketers is surreal. Granted, these individuals run in the same social circles as they do industry ones, so retweeting amongst themselves is not uncommon. So on top of sharing a common passion for cars or Detroit's rebirth or green tech, these gearheads blog about college football, juicy couture and their choice of best chili dog, garnished with a little ribbing all the while...

Which is nice when you think about it. Make no mistake, these peeps are pit against each other for market share. I wouldn't go so far as to call them buddy-buddy, but they are chummy with each other. As a consumer, that appeals to me. These are real people that drive the same cars and slog through the same morning commutes as the rest of us. And as a social media marketer or PR pro or whatever the heck I'm supposed to be these days, I find the camaraderie refreshing, perhaps even representative of some new form of Cola Wars where both sides aren't sworn enemies.

I myself chat with my industry counterparts on the more popular social networks. Mostly friendly talk, usually about what we hate and love about social media, or like today, why we can(not) wait to get the new Verizon iPhone. We're supposed to despise each other, but we don't. And why would we? We treat each other with mutual respect, and not because we may one day trade favors. We frequent the same trade shows and share the same stages in front our own peers. We learn from each others' failures and successes. Sometimes, we form friendships. Without question, we do it out in the open for all the web to see.

Is there something to all this hippie love between competing tweeps? Hard to say. It's likely to rattle some corporate cages, those run by the old business-is-war types with all their tired boardroom battle rhetoric. I never bought into that personally, and maybe this trend is more like-minded souls manifesting themselves one tweet at a time. Will it sell more cars? Hard to say, though maybe that's missing the point. Selling a car is one thing. Selling a brand is an entirely different matter altogether, especially when competing brands intertwine online.

Regardless, it makes for good "tweeple" watching.

A gentlemen just walked over to me to inform me that the tech who was changing my oil noticed my air filter was dirty.

"Fine," I thought. I've had my oil changed dozens of times in the past at the dealer, which usually changes the filter by default with each visit. No doubt the cost is built into the service, though I naively assume dealers have bulk discounts with suppliers and that air filters cost next to nothing.

"It's 38 dollars to replace the filter," said the friendly employee.

"Whoa," I replied. "I can get that far cheaper elsewhere.  Heck, I'll do it myself."

"I understand, sir."

Times have changed. I drive a Saturn, which as you know, is out of gas. I was always happy with my dealership, part of the Suburban Collection, a auto dealer network in Michigan known for their "Make the Choice" ad jingle. I could change my oil anywhere, but I like getting my all-point inspection and free exterior wash.  They know the history of my car and rarely give me the runaround.  Plus the Otis Spunkmeyer cookies are a nice touch, though they're not nearly as fresh now that the dealer closed its showroom and relocated to a service facility just down the road.

I can see tacking on a modest up-charge in the future on certain Saturn parts as they grow in scarcity.  But air filters?  Really?  I tweeted my concern wondering if they'd actually respond. I even tried to send a quick email, though Gmail is firewalled from the lounge's free wi-fi for some strange reason.

Looks like I'm replacing my own filters from now on. Part of my "pretty nice little Saturday." While I'm at it, maybe I'll take the restrictor plate off to give the Red Dragon a little more juice. But it's not exactly street legal, so keep it on the down low...

Whether I choose to return to the dealer remains to be seen. Nothing against 'em but I don't like being nickel-and-dimed. And last I inspected my own belts, I could stand to skip the Spunkmeyers.

Here's one thing you can't wake up to with the Sunday paper: last night's "Saturday Night Live" sketches.

Thankfully, there's the online edition of The Detroit Free Press.  The Freep's "Browser" blog, lately one of my favorite web feeds, highlights the inevitable SNL spoof of Toyota's ongoing PR challenges, this time poking fun at the runaway Prius:

I'm sure Toyota is the least bit amused, but it was only a matter of time before SNL would bite.  The parody spot ended with "Ford: We make hybrids too" voiced over a Ford logo, though I doubt Bill Ford, Jr. saw any humor in it.

Add it to the heap of problems facing the Japanese automaker.  Granted, the Prius case is drawing questions about the accuser and his troubled financial past.  Even SNL cast member Kenan Thompson found himself in the crosshairs this morning after the spot ran.

I am still rooting for Toyota.  It may be years before the company fully recovers from the recalls, and the situation will continue to get worse before it gets better.  If anything, the SNL ad, whether or not you found it funny, is part of the healing process.

And now, back to Crankshaft...

I've had mixed emotions about this whole Toyota mess. Part of me jeered along with the rest of the blue-collar, red-blooded compatriots I grew up with in the Rust Belt that watched the reputation of our beloved American cars turn a not-so-lovely shade of patina from decades of poor decision-making. It's a part of me I'm not necessarily proud of and my world view is far more matured these days. Admittedly, I found myself momentarily pointing and laughing. "Ha ha, Toyota, feel that media heat. Hear that consumer rage. Taste that big government boot. Kiss that five-star favorability good-bye..."

Of course, part of me was compassionate. I feel for the affected families. From a business standpoint, you can't excuse such errors in judgment. There is no justification for silencing, stalling, covering up. But whether we like it or not, these things happen. Cracks form, things slip through them. Companies are people, too. Humans. Prone to human error. A $2 billion error notwithstanding litigation. Maybe Toyota sat on this far too long, maybe they didn't. It really doesn't matter. The good people behind a great company that build and market some of the world's best cars will pay the price for years to come.

It is times of corporate crisis like these that I hope that competent PR people are behind the scenes. Not just parading presidents around the morning network news, mea culpa mea culpa mea maxima culpa. But credible, dedicated professionals that will go to mattresses to restore faith in their organization's name and reputation. PR pros that, when duty calls, leave their personal lives behind to become the unsung backroom heroes that won't rest until they can call mission accomplished.

I wasn't kidding when I said "years." Faulty brakes isn't a "sticky situation" that can be brushed aside after a few nights of bad late night comedy. No, this will take winning back the trust of owners and buyers, regulators, even dealers. Knowing at least one person pulling long hours for Toyota PR these last few weeks, I truly believe the automaker is on the road to recovery.

"Moving forward." It's been Toyota's slogan for some time. There is new meaning to that now. Like my own past perceptions, Americans have evolved -- and given the global economy, evolution means survival. Toyota will survive this and be a stronger company. The company is crash-coursing lessons their "American" competitors long learned the hard way. This will become fodder for PR textbooks for generations to come. Toyota will grow smarter and move forward. So too will the industry, and so will America.

Ford Unveils New Car For Cash-Strapped Buyers: The 1993 Taurus