By Russell S. Powell

Those of us in public relations labor under a lot of job titles: coordinator of public information, communications manager, vice president of media relations, assistant director of marketing for public relations. Does a title matter at all in how we do our jobs? Under certain circumstances, yes.

Reporting relationships also can affect our work. At large institutions and some smaller ones, for example, public-relations and marketing form their own division, in recognition that the impact of what we do is felt across the campus. Some PR officers report directly to the president, acknowledging the role of the chief executive as the institution's most visible and credible spokesperson. In still other cases, marketing and public relations are nested within the advancement office, for convenience or because of an institutional priority on fund raising.

Since both your title and the way your office is structured can, to some degree, affect whether you succeed in your job, let's look at both in turn.

Job titles. A job title can establish, or undermine, your authority, both within an institution and in the outside world. Bad job titles won't keep you from doing your job, but they can be a nuisance.

Titles are idiosyncratic. They're often designed to conform to a hierarchical salary structure; directors, obviously, are paid at a higher level and have more responsibility than assistant or associate directors, or managers. In some instances, job titles negotiated by one employee become institutionalized after that person leaves.

Some titles, such as communications manager, are sufficiently vague to allow for great latitude in defining the job description. Others, like director of media relations, let people inside and outside of the institution know exactly what to expect. A specific title will stake out a job's area of responsibility so that the candidate hired is not unfairly burdened with expectations of extra work.

Especially when budgets are tight, jobs can become highly politicized, with managers looking to protect or expand their turf. An explicit job title can raise the profile of, or legitimize, certain departmental functions.

Titles also reflect the way that external factors sometimes force PR offices to rewrite their job descriptions. Just a decade ago, for example, the number of education reporters and print publications was high enough to justify full-time positions in media relations, even in small markets. The Web was nascent then, and the term "social networking" had not entered our lexicon.

Today almost every PR and marketing job , has some Web-related duties. Virtually every college has one or more writing and editing positions dedicated to the Internet, and Web-site development is often a separate department within the marketing office or functions independently, bridging marketing with information technology. If they don't already exist, positions like director of social networking may not be far behind.

However your job title came into being, what are your options if you're stuck with a lousy one?

At Elms College, my title is a mouthful: assistant director of marketing for public relations. I'm not complaining; it reflects the fact that we do not have a vice president for institutional marketing; I report to a director. Even though I am the college's only PR officer, my long-winded title was necessary to make it clear internally that I do not have the same level of responsibility—or receive the same compensation—as my supervisor.

To the outside world, though, that lengthy handle can be a nuisance. It is too long to fit comfortably on a business card or be spoken when I answer the telephone, and it looks undignified somehow on an e-mail message or letter, as if I am straining to prove my authority. When I have just a few seconds to get an editor's attention, the last thing I want to do is waste it by reciting my official title.

The easy answer is to simplify. My business cards and e-mails read simply "public relations," which accomplishes the goal of letting people know quickly what I do. When speaking with reporters or members of the general public, I describe myself as the college's public-relations officer. While "officer" sounds a tad contrived, it does the trick.

Reporting relationships. Poor job titles are, at most, a minor inconvenience. Life can get complicated, though, when the college's management structure does not support the work implied by your job title. Especially during personnel transitions, the vagueness or specificity that suited a previous boss can undermine your working relationship with the new one.

Unlike registrar or director of alumni relations, or even publications manager, the two most commonly used terms in our titles—marketing and public relations—are wide open for interpretation. Public relations is usually meant to encompass media relations; in fact, in many cases, the job is primarily about working with the media, with the public a distant second. Marketing can take many forms but is generally seen to support enrollment first, then advancement, then the overall image of the college.

Whether by design or not, the focus of jobs with either of those terms in the title can shift from year to year. Job descriptions help, but who among us consults them daily? Besides, nearly all of them contain a clause like "perform other duties as required."

The problem may be less pronounced at universities with large marketing staffs, where people are more likely to specialize, but reporting relationships can still get sticky. Should the new Web employee report to marketing or information technology? For an editorial position, the answer is obvious. But what about the person who provides training and technical support? A tug-of-war between supervisors can result over whether that person is primarily a technician or whether he must be in lockstep with the college's marketing program.

Direct access to the president is key for most PR positions, whether or not you report to the top leader directly. From crisis management and prevention to event management and speechwriting, establishing a rapport and gaining the trust of your president is essential.

Ideally, PR officers should have regular meetings with presidents to learn firsthand what is on their minds, to speak and write confidently on their behalf, and to respond quickly to the fluid demands of that office. Without such meetings, the information that eventually filters to you is likely to be incomplete or dated.

But if your title does not reflect your responsibilities, gaining access to high-level meetings can be difficult. The president may prefer to work through your supervisor. People around the table may fail to understand the reasons for your attendance, and other staff members may resent the appearance that you are enjoying some sort of privilege above your station.

I've had experience in several of those scenarios. In one case, the president had an executive assistant (he was actually the college's PR person before I was hired). He was a part of the presidential cabinet and sat in on its weekly meetings, and his office was adjacent to the president's. He was in a regular position to anticipate the president's needs. In the meantime, reporting to the director of development, I was able to focus my efforts on media relations.

In another setting, I had the title of director of marketing and public relations and reported to the president, with whom I met weekly, and I regularly attended cabinet meetings as a nonvoting member. It worked well, especially in times of crisis, when I could react quickly without having to get up to speed—and more important, prevent or minimize crises by anticipating them with my advance knowledge.

I've also had to work at the base of the "triangle," scrambling to keep pace with my president's expectations by hearing about them retrospectively through a third party. That is the least satisfying of all professionally, as you attempt to be accountable without the necessary authority. It's hard to shed light on matters when you feel as if you are working in the dark yourself.

If you find yourself in that last situation, your best strategy is to work more closely with your supervisor—meeting at least weekly—to ensure that you get as much timely information as possible.

Keep lobbying for regular meetings with the president, even if you've been turned down before. It is incumbent upon you to make your supervisors (including the president) know what you need to do your job, regardless of their responses. You may be able to negotiate monthly meetings with the president, one on one (preferred), or at least with your supervisor present.

If your president and supervisor agree to monthly meetings, try to schedule them for at least an hour. Have an agenda, but remember that sometimes the best information emerges "off script," when the president lets his or her guard down and speaks extemporaneously.

The next best strategy is to make use of casual contacts, walking with the president on the way to a meeting or an event. It's not a true substitute for a meeting, but you can at least get a better feel for what's on the leader's mind.

A lousy job title is worth fixing, but nothing to lose sleep over. An inadequate reporting relationship, though, can keep you scrambling to meet the requirements of your job. While a resourceful public-relations person can almost always find creative ways to compensate, if the reporting structure does not match expectations, your best choices are to lobby your supervisor and president for changes, or look for a new job.

Russell S. Powell is a public-relations officer at Elms College, in Chicopee, Mass. He previously worked as director of public relations at Hampshire College and at Greenfield Community College, and as a consultant. He writes for On Message, our column on career issues in academic public relations. If you would like to write for the column, send your ideas to careers@chronicle.com.