A Day in the Life of a Public Information Officer
Written for a pandemic diary
An average day for this Public Information Officer
My intentions are clear in the times set on my alarm. The truth is though, I don’t wake up until 8 a.m., and I roll out of bed long-ways and just angle myself toward the desk in the spare room. I open my computer, turn on Teams, and here we go.
At some point I will make coffee in my little coffee pot: Motions that feel like music now. Filling the glass pot with water—swish it around, then pour it down the long thirsty neck of the machine. Quick, fold the edges in on the left-over coffee filter and put a hand under the bag while you walk to the trash. This is one moment when the trashcan is most useful, open it with your foot. In. Put one filter into the jaws of the machine, not two. Then use the spoon waiting inside the red, plastic Folgers container, shake coffee grounds loose into the filter, don’t get lost in the details of it.
My team is the “Unified Public Information Officers” for the Calhoun County Joint Operations Center (JOC)—that’s what we’ve named our three-person group on Microsoft Teams. The other PIOs, besides myself, are Kristin from the Public Health Department and Jessica from Battle Creek City. They are fellow soldiers. Our respective bosses, the three of them, make up the Unified Command Team. These commanders determine and lead our efforts. All of us are kept organized by the Battle Creek Police Chief, Jim Blocker.
A Joint Operations Center is a FEMA-designed emergency response system that can be activated in a community crisis. When the Public Health Department became overwhelmed with the number of moving parts that pop up in a public health crisis, they requested the assistance of a JOC, so we got moving. Our “lines of efforts,” declared by Chief Blocker, are saving lives and mitigating suffering.
At 9 a.m. and 4 p.m. every weekday, we have quick Zoom calls to receive updates from various workgroups. They feel like goal posts between which I run a full game, all day, with an hour of prep before and usually two hours after. The briefing calls are fast, meant to receive all new updates or move on. We hear about the following topics:
Hospital capacity
Test numbers from the Public Health Department
PPE fulfillment
Quarantine and Isolation hotel site occupation
Vulnerable populations needs
Non-governmental organizations efforts
Unified law enforcement coordination
Business/corporate needs (which run the gamut)
Mondays and Fridays, we PIOs develop newsletter-like Joint Information Centers, which are emailed to 1400 people, including the media. On Wednesdays, we hold live Zoom calls for elected officials and local news— I make the PowerPoints. My goal is to put all of the information in one place and easily accessible. We send media updates from the Public Health Department on Thursdays. Everything is posted under communications on the County Alert Page. Recently, the Unified Command Team (the three bosses) spoke on public television about what we’re up to.
This all happens from my house; I don’t leave. Pinecone moves from room to room, or she sleeps in my bed. Some days I make a grilled cheese. I sit at my desk editing websites or waiting for approvals on a press release. I stare out the window in my spare room, watch the traffic on Kalamazoo Ave. Today, April snow collects on the branches and tanker trucks rush past stirring greyness into the air with them.
After the 4 p.m. call, I wrap up each day with an update for department heads and elected officials. I give them numbers, like positive cases and hospitalizations. I send links to the day’s press releases or communications. There is much to communicate.
I shared this writing initially in an email newsletter, as well as the COVID-19 edition of the Calhoun County Nugget
