How I Found a Career in Crisis PR

The Most Asked Question

I often speak at universities, and students always start with the same questions: “Who’s your biggest client?” or “Is Taylor Swift your client?” Once they’ve exhausted those, they finally ask about me: “How did you end up in crisis PR?”

The Plan That Didn’t Stay the Same

If you’d asked me years ago what I thought my career would look like, I probably would have said I’d end up running a digital marketing agency. That was the plan, at least. I deliberately took on short-term contract jobs across different sectors—PR agencies, SEO firms, social media management companies, B2B businesses, and B2C brands—to learn how the industry worked from every angle. I wanted to be as prepared as possible to offer a full range of services when I eventually launched my own agency.

Of course, plans never stay the same. One thing I quickly realised during this period was that the agencies trying to offer everything often delivered pretty poor results. The specialised agencies—the ones focusing on just SEO, design, or social media—always performed better. As a client to many agencies over the years, I saw this pattern again and again. I worked at two different “digital marketing” agencies, and they were both chaotic and had seemingly no “experts” as it wasn’t specialised at all.

Focusing on a specific area allows for much higher quality work in the agency world, I was realising. My digital marketing agency plan wasn’t the brilliant idea I once thought it was and I was questioning what on earth to do next except keep building my own experiences and knowledge.

While I didn’t know it at this time, my “dabbling” across industries was preparing me for something very different to my initial agency idea and was helping me gain an overall set of modern skills to help in one sector… Crisis PR.

The Importance of Understanding the Digital Landscape

Crisis PR requires a deep understanding of how the entire digital world works these days. Before, traditional PR firms would just blast out a basic statement for the press to run with, but now, it’s not just about writing a good press statement—it’s about knowing how SEO affects search results, how stories spread across social media, and how to control a narrative across multiple platforms. I unknowingly spent years educating myself for this field, even though I hadn’t realised it was where I’d end up.

Accidentally Becoming an Instagram Influencer

(To put it into perspective, this is what it looked like back in the day and how long ago this was.)

I started out working in magazines, writing and handling behind-the-scenes tasks for a few publications. It gave me my first real insight into how the media operates—and how much influence it has over public perception. I also met many public figures during this period and a huge part of how I had a strong foundation of contacts outside of my own circle. Anyway, during this time, something unexpected happened: I accidentally became one of the original Instagram influencers ha ha.

Back in the early days of Instagram, from around 2011 to 2015, the platform was much smaller and very selective about who they featured on their “popular page” before it became “explore.” Somehow, my account made the cut.

I woke up one day to 10,000 new followers and was genuinely baffled. I wasn’t posting anything groundbreaking—a photo of a coffee or no doubt a photo of my legs sat somewhere (very arty), or even worse, me trying to be funny —but my account eventually grew to around 50,000 followers, which was a huge deal back then.

You can decide if I deserved my place on the Popular Page.

Of course, this was before celebrities and big brands took over and Meta purchased it. Once that happened, Instagram went from being this cute, creative platform full of real people to what it is now: a weird, ad-filled, algorithm-driven place where everyone’s showing off their (mostly fake) perfect lives. It’s a bit of a shame, really.

That said, those early days were fascinating. Instagram would organise influencer trips to promote local businesses, and I somehow found myself invited to these. I met the original influencers—back when most of them were photographers or great storytellers. These weren’t people showing off their designer wardrobes; they were creating genuine, thoughtful content. I didn’t really understand how I’d landed in the mix (with photos like above), but I wasn’t going to complain about the free trips or the chance to learn from such talented people.

Looking back, it gave me a real head start with understanding Instagram—how to build an audience, create content that resonates, and actually connect with people. Even though the platform has completely transformed, those lessons have been invaluable for helping clients navigate today’s much noisier, ad-heavy landscape.

Deliberate Job-Hopping

I left my magazine role to start job-hopping in temporary/mat cover roles. Name a job title in digital marketing, and I’ve probably had it— *digital marketing term* executive, every kind of “manager” role, a few director titles that sounded much fancier than they were (probably redundancies were made and they run out of titles), and, right at the start, internships. I often took on short-term contracts or maternity cover roles, not just for the challenge, but the plan to “dabble” in different industries without long-term commitments. I wanted to see how different companies approached PR and marketing so I could absorb the best (and worst) practices to bring to my own business one day.

Learning What Not to Do: The Barber Story

Through all these experiences, I learnt exactly what I loved—and hated—about the agency world. By working at multiple agencies and being a client on the other side while working for other brands, I gained a unique perspective on how agencies operate. A clue to my approach lies in the name of my agency, “Honest London.”

Why? Because honesty was often missing in these agency roles. I couldn’t believe how much I had to fake “or find only green results” when producing a monthly result report for their clients - not one agency I worked at would allow a negative result to go out into the report unless they could blame it on the client. The reality is though, digital marketing is unpredictable, you can’t predict results, you can plan a strong idea, implement it and see if it works. If it doesn’t, you learn, move on and try something else. It always bemused me the deep fear of an agency admitting their idea didn’t work.

One moment that stood out for me was during my time at one of the many agencies I worked at, this particular time I was hired for my SEO skills. The owner of the agency had me sit next to her during a discovery meeting with a new potential client who had 4/5 barber shops across London and wanted to improve his website/SEO results. She was rambling about all sorts and then she confidently told the potential client, “Lauren can get you ranking for ‘best barbers London’ in three months!”

My eyes must have doubled in size, I felt sick with nerves because I knew that was close to impossible unless we somehow got them into GQ and 10 other A+ publications within a week…. Even then, highly unlikely. I tried to subtly tap her ankle under the table to get her attention to try and say that’s not possible, but she completely ignored me and carried on, spinning more wild promises.

That poor potential client left that meeting thrilled with her lies and promises and signed up to the agency a week later… Poor bastard. (I left the agency before I could witness the inevitable shitshow.)

As soon as the client walked out of that discovering meeting, I panicked and said, “There’s no way we can achieve those results!” She just waved it off casually and said, “We’ll worry about that once the dotted line is signed.”

That line became a bit of a joke between me and my friends for years, but it cemented my belief that this approach was absolutely not for me. It wasn’t just about learning the skills; it was about figuring out how I wanted to apply them—with honesty and realistic expectations.

Quirky Brands That Taught Me The Most

Some roles were more niche than others. For example, I once worked for a B2B health and safety information company as maternity cover, tasked with growing their presence on social media—a topic most of us would assume is boring. Turns out, it was. BUUUT, with that said, Twitter was a surprising hot spot for health and safety enthusiasts. A simple question like “How many fire extinguishers are legally required within a certain square footage?” really got them going. (I even still remember: it’s usually one extinguisher for every 200 square meters, with at least one per floor—riveting stuff!). I enjoyed the challenge of these kinds of jobs, in fact, this was one of the cutest and kindest teams I’ve ever worked with – I was sad when this contract ended.

That role, along with others like it, taught me so much about strategy, creativity, and how to find unique ways to engage an audience. Working with big-name brands is often straightforward—the hard work is already done, and it’s just about creating decent content to keep relevance and a positive reputation. But taking on niche brands or lesser-known clients requires a completely different mindset. Tackling these quirky challenges has made taking on equally quirky clients at Honest London feel natural, even with the ever-changing landscape of social media.

A Brief, Disastrous Stint at an Influencer Agency 🤢

Oh, and I also survived (just about, not really, quit within a month) a brief stint at an influencer agency (yes, that’s a thing that exists). Working with influencers was hard enough, but nothing prepared me for the owners at this place. I’ll never forget my first day there when I heard one of them refer to an intern as “Intern One.”

Another memory that springs to mind was on the week of my birthday, which was about 10 days into this bloody awful job. One of the employees asked what I did to celebrate. I said, “oh, Farmhouse with some close friends,” and one of the owners butted in and replied, “Wow, they really do let anyone become a Soho House member these days.”

I’ll be honest—I found that hilarious. They were clearly unsettled that one of their measly employees was a Soho House member. Before this, they would make big announcements about leaving the office to work or meet someone at “THE Soho House” in their very strong well spoken Chelsea accents. But after it was noted that I was also a member, these office announcements stopped abruptly and they started announcing they were going to Annabel’s. Ha ha.

I lasted less than a month there—it wasn’t a temporary role; I walked out, the way they spoke to employees was honestly disgraceful. I remember one screaming at Intern 2’s face because he missed a screenshot from an event and this poor kid was sat there with watery eyes. He was only 19 years old, it was so brutal. He walked fast to the kitchen after the screaming and cried, we hugged, took a walk and I told him to run once he admitted to me he wasn’t even paid to be there. So when we returned, I distracted the owners, he packed his stuff and left.

Once it was just me, the owners and a new office manager who just started that day in the job. She left the room and the two owners started mocking what she was wearing “who on earth would buy those shoes… A charity shop would decline them HAHAHA”. Just complete assholes. The whole experience was… traumatic (kidding, of course). But it reinforced my belief that I didn’t want to be part of a toxic work culture or one where people were treated as expendable—or just like absolute shit.

Finding My Niche

During this period, I found myself unexpectedly becoming friends with a few public figures—no doubt due to my massive Instagram fame (SARCASM). They’d often ask me for help with their socials or PR on the side, and I’d happily offer tips or help craft responses. At the time, it wasn’t anything formal; I didn’t even feel qualified. It was just favours for friends and my natural tendency to analyse everything from multiple angles. I’m the kind of person who can’t trust a single news article—I need to read the same story from four or five different sources before I feel like I’ve got a well-rounded understanding.

Which is why I find it absolutely crazy that people will watch one TikTok video on a topic and suddenly think they’re an expert—or believe it outright. Do they realise anyone can post on TikTok? It makes Wikipedia look like an encyclopedia of verified truth in comparison. This rush to take everything at face value without checking the facts is exactly the mindset that fuels so many crises I’ve had to deal with in my work.

Anyway, TikTok rant over…

But as I started to see patterns in what worked and what didn’t, I realised I was developing a toolkit of strategies without even meaning to. What started as casual advice quickly turned into something more significant. One public figure would recommend me to another, and before I knew it, I was managing increasingly delicate situations. I wasn’t just helping them respond to backlash or draft statements; I was also working behind the scenes to clean up their digital presence. I’d dive into their SEO, improve how their name appeared in search results, and even get damaging images removed from Google and other platforms. This became a big hit—friends loved it because it was something they hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t just crisis management; it was reputation repair on a technical level.

That’s when I realised this wasn’t something offered by most PR firms, let alone regular ones. Traditional PR seemed focused on statements and damage control, but I was filling a gap by addressing the lasting impact of the internet. Whether it was rebalancing their Google search results or removing content that no longer served them (usually press that’s factually not true/fake witnesses), I was offering solutions they couldn’t find elsewhere.

Looking back, these early experiences taught me the value of adaptability and emotional intelligence in PR. It wasn’t just about having good ideas; it was about understanding people—what they wanted to say, what they were afraid to admit, and how their audience might respond. I had to learn how to distill complex emotions into clear messages and how to balance authenticity with strategy. The more I worked on these problems, the more I realised I wasn’t just stumbling into a niche—I was building a foundation for something bigger.

Learning the Key Skills for Crisis PR

Along the way, I picked up key skills that have become essential in my crisis PR work—how SEO works, how Google News picks up stories, how Google Images can shape someone’s online reputation, and even how to persuade journalists to edit or remove articles (yes, persistence pays off). These skills allow me to go beyond the surface when managing a public figure’s reputation. For instance, knowing how SEO operates means I can influence how someone’s name appears when googled. If their first-page results are dominated by damaging stories, I use a mix of strategies—like boosting positive content, targeting specific keywords, creating fresh, optimised articles, and securing removals—to effectively “clean” their Google search. The goal isn’t to erase the past but to create a more balanced, accurate narrative.

The internet has become a public figure or brand’s biggest source of stress. A bad press day used to blow over quickly—those scandalous headlines were wrapping fish and chips the next morning. Now, those stories live online forever, searchable, shareable, and amplified. Cleaning up their search presence isn’t just about hiding the negative; it’s about managing how they are perceived and ensuring the digital version of their reputation reflects who they truly are—not just their worst moments.

Crisis PR demands far more than technical skills—it requires resilience, adaptability, and an immense amount of mental strength. I regularly hear from clients about their darkest thoughts, including suicidal feelings. Navigating those moments takes empathy, emotional intelligence, and the ability to respond thoughtfully in incredibly high-pressure, personal situations. To handle this, I’ve had to study psychology extensively—not to become a therapist, but to equip myself with the tools to respond to such heavy, deeply human issues. This isn’t just a job; it’s about helping real people in the middle of their worst crises, and that weight is something I take very seriously.

This is also not the kind of job where you can afford to be star-struck. If you’re dazzled by public figures or a fan of them, this work would be impossible. You can’t do the hard, sometimes uncomfortable, work of crisis management if you’re blinded by celebrity. My job is to focus on the person and their needs, not their fame. Frankly, I don’t care who they are; I care about what needs fixing.

It’s also about precision and adaptability in communication. Written skills are non-negotiable: knowing how to adjust from US to UK spelling seamlessly, writing in someone else’s tone so convincingly that their audience believes it’s them, and spotting the tiny quirks in their writing style that make their voice authentic. Every detail matters. Sometimes, it’s knowing how to use five words instead of fifty to make a statement hit home. Other times, it’s crafting a heartfelt apology that sounds human, not rehearsed.

I’ve learnt that every platform requires its own language too. What works on Instagram doesn’t fly on LinkedIn. Twitter is fast and sharp; TikTok is visual and conversational. Each one has its nuances, and navigating them effectively is a skill in itself.

And then there’s the ability to manage high-pressure, high-stakes situations—like being woken up at 2 or 3 a.m. by a very important client in America who needs a carefully crafted statement out in 30 minutes. And not just any statement—a statement that will be blasted across global news and seen by millions. In moments like that, there’s no time to hesitate—you need to deliver immediately, often while wearing glasses because there’s no time for contacts (I’m going back to bed after this) and wrapped in a dressing gown, clutching a coffee that could double as a bucket.

Ultimately, crisis PR is about much more than fixing problems—it’s about understanding people. It’s about standing in their shoes, seeing the world through their eyes, and building a path forward that feels genuine and achievable. Every day demands something different, but at its core, this work is about connection, trust, and the ability to adapt to whatever comes next.

Seeing Both Sides

One thing I’ve learnt along the way, in order to do Crisis PR well, is how important it is to put your own opinions to one side. It’s not about what I think; it’s about understanding every angle and helping my clients navigate theirs. I genuinely enjoy seeing both sides of an argument and trying to understand perspectives different from my own. Every side, even the controversial ones, usually has a point worth considering.

That’s not to say it’s always straightforward. As a woman, I often find myself in situations where I’m asked to represent men accused of sexual assault. It’s an incredibly delicate position because, naturally, I want to believe the women. But in these moments, I have to step back, look at the evidence, and be level-headed. If there’s no concrete proof—no legal evidence, no texts, no screenshots, nothing verifiable—I won’t touch the case. However, if a client shows me messages or evidence of manipulation, like a woman threatening to make accusations unless he complies with her demands, I feel more confident moving forward. It’s not about blindly taking sides; it’s about ensuring that my decisions are rooted in facts, not emotions.

The complexity doesn’t stop there. I’ve also had to navigate situations involving cultural differences, which requires an enormous amount of sensitivity and understanding. I’ve worked with clients from cultures where behaviours deemed unacceptable in the West are considered completely normal, and vice versa. These situations are particularly challenging when there’s a clash between cultural norms and legal frameworks. It’s not enough to rely on instinct—I’ve had to study extensively to ensure I approach these cases with the respect and knowledge they deserve. Crisis PR isn’t just about solving problems; it’s about understanding the nuances behind them.

In many of these situations, it becomes clear just how quickly people jump to conclusions without waiting for all the facts. We live in a world where speculation often takes the place of evidence, and emotions override logic. This rush to judgment has become a defining feature of how scandals unfold—and it’s exhausting to watch how little room there is for complexity or nuance in these conversations.

That’s why I find cancel culture so utterly ridiculous in 95% of cases. It’s no longer “forgive and forget”—it’s more like “punish and erase.” Forgiveness has been replaced by the thrill of a public pantomime of outrage, and the truth? Well, nothing ruins a good drama quite like the truth. These days, it feels like people aren’t even willing to wait for the other side of the story, let alone care about what’s real. Speculation spreads faster than facts, and by the time the truth comes out, the damage is already done.

Dealing with these challenges has shown me just how important it is to balance empathy with objectivity. Whether it’s navigating accusations, untangling cultural misunderstandings, or addressing the latest viral outrage, the key is to stay calm, do the research, and act based on facts. It’s not always easy, and it’s certainly not glamorous, but it’s the only way to do this job with integrity.

The Value of Freedom of Speech

If someone working in PR can’t see a different perspective other than their own, they’re simply not good at their job. Crisis PR demands intellectual agility—the ability to set aside personal beliefs, listen to every angle, and approach situations with an open mind. Without this, you can’t build credible narratives or find solutions that resonate with multiple stakeholders. Freedom of speech is vital, and I hate that it’s now become acceptable to silence people simply because their opinion doesn’t align with the mainstream. That’s not progress—it’s shutting down conversations that need to happen.

This ability to navigate differing perspectives isn’t unique to PR. Think of lawyers, who must build cases by anticipating every possible counterargument, even if they’re defending something they personally disagree with. Or journalists, whose credibility depends on presenting balanced stories, even when they have their own opinions. Great professionals in these fields thrive because they know how to separate their personal views from their work. The same applies to crisis PR: you’re not there to push your beliefs; you’re there to understand the broader landscape and steer the situation toward resolution.

I’ve seen PR professionals struggle and deliver subpar work because they’re too closed-minded to move past their own worldview. They fail to consider other angles, which means they miss critical opportunities to effectively manage their clients’ reputations. Crisis PR isn’t about taking sides—it’s about understanding them. If you’re too rigid to grasp that differing perspectives exist—and that they have value—you simply won’t succeed in this industry. Being able to navigate perspectives without judgment isn’t just a skill; it’s the foundation of strategic thinking. Frankly, if you can’t do it, you’re in the wrong line of work.

So overall…

Running Honest London, my social media agency, keeps me immersed in the creative world of trends, strategy, and audience engagement. It also gives me the opportunity to work with a fantastic team—something I deeply value, as crisis PR is something I can never pass on to others. Crisis work is deeply personal, requiring my full attention and trust in my instincts, which makes the contrast between the two even more rewarding.

Crisis PR isn’t for the faint-hearted—it demands resilience, adaptability, and a deep sense of empathy for people in their toughest moments. If you’re considering it because you think it’s all glitz, glamour, and rubbing shoulders with celebrities, you’re barking up the wrong tree. There’s nothing glamorous about this work—it’s late nights, high-pressure decisions, and often dealing with people at their lowest points. If that’s your motivation, then you’re not doing it for the right reasons. But if you’re someone who thrives on problem-solving, can think critically, and act with compassion under pressure, it can be an incredibly rewarding career.

If you’re curious about crisis PR or considering it as a career, feel free to get in touch!