On chasing things that no longer matter

I’ve been hesitant to write about this, lest the situation sound like sour grapes on my part. Sour grapes are not my intention; well, maybe a little. Still, I’m at peace about it now.

Twice in the last two years I have applied for induction into the Public Relations Society of America’s College of Fellows. The COF is called the “gold standard of public relations professionals.” Not a lifetime achievement award, but rather an honor that denotes leadership in the profession, impact and serving as an example to others.

COF members must be public relations practitioners for a minimum of 240 months, or 20 years, and be Accredited in Public Relations. After a friend of mine was inducted into the COF in 2019, I talked to her about the applying for induction myself, and the long road to being twice denied was underway.

The application process is arduous, and it should be. Part of the application requires listing 20 examples of exemplary work across the breadth of your career. Five examples each in the areas of superior professional performance, advancement of the profession, service to the profession or the community, and being an example of leadership in the profession or the community.

For each example, you have 250 words to explain the situation, your role, the result and the impact. Each example must also include the contact information of an individual who can attest to your role in the situation. Twenty examples, 20 contacts.

Additionally, you have to gather support letters, from other COF members, individuals from outside the profession who are familiar with your work, and from the leadership of the PRSA chapter of which you’re a member.

I worked with a Goodfellow, a volunteer member of the COF who can offer some assistance in critiquing your application and identifying areas of improvement. I had a different Goodfellow for each application. I am grateful to them both for their service.

I wish the result were different.

I was disappointed the first time my application was rejected, but not entirely surprised. It happens to many applicants. The first time I got a phone call from the chair followed by a letter giving insights into how my application could be approved, according to the selection committee.I leaned into those insights to adjust my application for this year.

I was more than disappointed this year; for a time, I was angry. It started with the condescending phone call from the incoming chair of the COF. As you might imagine, many of my examples related to both my professional work and later volunteer service to the American Cancer Society and the American Cancer Society Cancer Action Network. When she called, the incoming chair told me that as a cancer survivor herself she appreciated my work in the cancer space and that she hoped to meet me one day, but that in my application I did not adequately explain how I used my public relations skills in my cancer-related work.

Then, I got the insights letter. I won’t do a hot wash of the entire letter, but suffice it to say it made me wonder if some members of the selection committee actually read my application. In one of the insights, they asked for examples of how I used my skills to move legislation, of which there were three in my application.

I appealed to the PRSA National Board by letter, explaining where the supposed shortcomings of my application were actually right there in the application. They upheld the decision of the selection committee anyway.

Cue more disappointment. Several of the COF members who wrote support letters on my behalf for my applications, where confused by the whole thing. I’m grateful to all of them: Becky, Ellen, Gary, Susan and Gail. And to the Volunteer PRSA chapter leadership and board for supporting my application.

I wrote a thank-you note to the gentleman on the committee who vetted my application. I think he talked to every one of my contacts. I heard from several of them about how well, and long, their conversations were.

I’m still confused by the whole thing, but I’m not angry anymore.

Remember, I said earlier that COF denotes leadership, impact and serving by example. I’m not needed to serve in those capacities in my profession. That’s not just my opinion.

I was traveling home from Washington, D.C.., for work recently. The direct flight is relatively short, and the ride was quiet. I was mulling the situation over in my head for the millionth time when I heard that still, small voice tell me I didn’t need the COF designation to be an example. And that, in fact, my chosen profession isn’t where I’m needed.

My place is where it has been for these past nearly 20 years: in cancer advocacy. Being an ear for patients in treatment, serving as their voice to members of Congress and other elected officials, using my cancer story to impact other people. The COF Medal can’t touch any of that.

So, I’m not chasing it anymore. I’m not even sure I’m going to remain a member of the organization at this point.

In the cancer space, I don’t have to do a show-and-tell. I could share more than 100 examples of my impact. Two of them happened recently.

First, a late fellow cancer fighter’s wife traveled to Knoxville and stopped by Lights of Hope on Saturday, Sept. 18. We’d never met, but we follow each other on Facebook. We’re connected because of her husband, and now we’ve connected IRL.

Then, today, a new friend whom I’ve known for just a few months, needed to vent. He’s a cancer survivor who thought his treatment journey was over only to learn that someone on his medical team screwed the pooch. He needed to talk to someone, and I was it.

I’m a blessed man to be serving people in the way God intends. No medal can change that.