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Ever notice how public relations varies from party to party? As a journalist you walk into some party headquarters, and before you can say "Fokoff!" a slimy Public Relations grunt asks "May I help you?"

"No thanks."

"May I help you?" asks another.

"No thanks."

"May I help you?" asks a third.

When the party runs out of grunts, you get to see the real political workers (and even Helen Zille farting around in eSA flag shorts, defiling the colours of the nation).

This is called "in-your-face party politics".

Other parties take the opposite approach. When you can't find the correct spokesperson-bastard-bloody-agent for your new article, you look for help in room three. Nobody there. Room four? Still nobody. Room five? Nope. Room six? Seven? Fifty-six? "eR hasn't added rooms six through fifty-six yet, *sic*" ~ Editor

This is called "run-for-cover public relations".

Then there is the journalists' lounge that welcomes you with open arms just as your dictaphone starts sounding like a set of valstande stuck in a Kreepy Krauly.

"It just needs a routine clean. We are helpful, and can do that if you include these specific lines in your next article," the friendly agent says. Then he eerily lowers his voice as he grins knowingly, "but you should probably do it yourself."

You commend him on his helpfulness. He beams with pride. "Jisses. I thought it up by myself. Whenever a journo tries to sort it out by himself, we get a whole lot of brownie points the next day. Think my super will give me a double helping of melkkos for this?"

I call this "do-it-yourself extortion".

And what about each of the tripartite-alliance agents that came to supervise me fixing my own tape recorder? Each looks around, takes some notes and promises to get back to us with some help.

We wait. And wait. And wait.

We call back the first (the union), which promises to get back to us with the help of its best (which it lost to the capitalist brain-drain). It makes the same promise consistently each time we call. I just love a reliable union.

This is called "consistent bully-pulpit spokesmanship".

We call the second party. We call them in the day. We call them in the night. We call them in the dark. We call them in the light. We call them in the morn. Well call them at high noon. We call them at dinner, and by the light of the moon. "Stolen, no doubt" ~ Editor

Even bad journalism doesn't help. I just love a party that doesn't bother me by answering their own phone. Blerrie Communists.

I call this "The-Invisible-Man public relations".

In the end, we choose the third alliance member. To what does it owe the winning bid? Excellent quality? No. Great results? No. Strong councilpersons? No? Answering their phone? Yes.

We hire the best paperwork fillers to re-establish a propaganda network - and we cross our fingers that we never have to choose a nuclear scientist for reactor number four that way.

I call this "present-at-role-call public relations".

Our marketing committee showed us a different approach.

"Dude, the website needs some updating. Time to call the Website Guy."

"OK, I'll do it right after I answer the phone. Howzit?"

"Hello, this is your Website Guy. When would you like to update your website, may we do it this month?"

"Jisses. How did you know? Well, as soon as possible. Hold on, that's the door bell."

"Hello, this is your Website Guy."

"But, you were just on the phone."

"You said ASAP, so here I am."

I call this "public relations on steroids".

If you own a press company, run a regular company or do anything that brings you into contact with other eCitizens, please take note. One of these public relations styles is actually good.

"Hello, this is your Website Guy."

OK, that's enough. We don't have needs in the website department. We have eRepublik to run and host and ban our articles.

"Hello, this is your Website Guy."

By the way, if you want to provide feedback to this article, I'll be holding my hands over my ears and proudly belting out the eSA national anthem. I call that "satirical public relations".

"Hello, this is..." [a sudden fear shuts him up, as he notices me cocking my Q5 shotgun which I usually hide behind the front door]

[a consistent furore of shotgunfire ensues]

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~ Another article consumed for eRepublik use