A Job-Hopper Settles Down On The Farm, With Twitter

Alison Kosakowski, a 33-year-old former New York City brand planner turned dairy farm blogger, now helps farmers use social media to market themselves and share their unglamorous but rewarding reality.

In 2009, Alison Kosakowki was living in New York, working as communications manager at the Maersk shipping company, when a kidnapping at sea brought her to Vermont. The captain of the Maersk Alabama, Richard Phillips, had been kidnapped by Somali pirates; Kosakowski was dispatched to Phillips’s home in Underhill, Vermont, to help the family handle media during the weeklong crisis, the wait for Phillips’s return, and the barrage of interview requests and book deals in the aftermath. While visiting the Phillips family the following August, Kosakowski met a local dairy farmer named Ransom (really!), and a few months later, left the New York City area, moved to Vermont, and joined Ransom and his family’s herd of 800 Holsteins on their 1,000-acre farm. On a blog called Diary of a Dairy Queen, she documented her efforts at beekeeping, raising chickens, and learning to can. After trying out public-relations gigs at a couple of local companies, in December, Kosakowski found a job that merges the personal and professional, as marketing and promotions director at the Vermont Agency of Agriculture. Here, she talks about tweeting from the farm stand, the branding of the American farmer, and the challenge of taking the long view.

FAST COMPANY: How did you get into your current job?

ALISON KOSAKOWSKI: After being laid off from a local ad agency, I’d spent part of the summer and fall helping at the farm and using Twitter to drum up customers for corn and pumpkins at the family farmstand. I found out about this job–after Hurricane Irene last summer, which really hurt Vermont farmers, the agency wanted someone to help deal with crisis communications–and I applied for it. I took a pay cut from previous jobs, but I felt I would get value from knowing I was contributing to the greater good. You still have to deal with the realities of reconfiguring your budget, though.

What kind of projects are you working on?

My main job is overseeing crisis communications, managing media relations, planning agency events, and helping build a “brand” for Vermont agriculture. But my pet project has been teaching social media to farmers. I recently did a workshop at the Northeast Kingdom Farm and Food Summit, talking with about a dozen farmers about using new technologies to build relationships with their community. That means using social media to promote their products, tweeting what they’re selling at the farmstand that week. There are lots of opportunities now for farmers–our culture is so fascinated with food and farming now. But there also a disconnect between the precious notion of farming that many people have and the sweaty, squealing reality of it. So I’m also talking with farmers about using social media as a way to educate consumers about real farm practices.

Did working on your blog help you figure out what you’re doing now?

It was really fun, and I think I’ll go back to it with a new name. Right now I’m trying to figure out what the boundaries are between my personal blogging and my public role. I think that writing for the blog helped me package up stories about agriculture and what it’s like to live on a farm in a way that I hoped would appeal to people who aren’t necessarily in that world. I just imagined talking to friends from New York–figuring out what are the things in my life that would be interesting or surprising to them, and telling those stories.

When you go and talk with farmers do they see you as a “suit” or are you able to blend in?

I definitely have more cred because I live on a farm. There’s all kinds of interesting divisions in the farming community–a lot of what I would say are artificial divisions between people using different practices, or some people saying, “Oh, she’s from a dairy family but we’re vegetable growers.” That’s kind of silly because when you think about the number of people in this country that actually get dirty on a daily basis in their job working with animals and plants, it’s such a small number. But in general, I think I get credibility in the agriculture community because I’m living in it. They know my laundry pile is just as dirty as their laundry pile. As an outsider, though, I also understand that the reality is different from the perception. I appreciate how outsiders are enchanted by agriculture–it’s Old McDonald’s farm versus the reality of raising livestock for production.

About Generation Flux
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Flagship Fluxers, Photo: Brooke Nipar

In our February 2012 issue Fast Company Editor Robert Safian identified a diverse set of innovators who embrace instability, tolerate–and even enjoy–recalibrating careers, business models, and assumptions. People like author/Onion digital media maverick Baratunde Thurston, Greylock Data Scientist DJ Patil, Microsoft Senior Researcher danah boyd, and GE’s Beth Comstock. This series continues to explore the new values of GenFlux. Find more Fluxers here. And tweet your contributions using #GenFlux.

What was the most surprising thing for you coming from your life before and actually living on a farm? Has it been de-romanticized for you?

In New York, New Jersey, and Philadelphia, there are lots of accountants who have 10 sheep and call themselves farmers. There’s a big difference from that and people who farm for a living, when you’re relying on the weather to cooperate, and you get up at 4 a.m., or you get up to help animals in the middle of the night. There’s a real surrender of control in agriculture, so many things you can’t get your arms around. People say farmers are the salt of the earth, that they’re hardworking and honest, and it’s true. But I think that’s because farmers are more acquainted with the notion that this is all bigger than us. We know we can’t manage everything we think we can manage. Other people have more of an artificial sense of their ability to be masters of their domain, where farmers are, “Well, we gotta be patient. Plant something this spring and hopefully we’ll get something in the fall.” That’s interesting to me.

In the advertising industry in New York, you’re always looking, keeping your resume polished and talking to recruiters. That always-looking mentality was deeply ingrained in me. In my 20s I changed jobs every two years. That quick turnaround is the antithesis of what farming is about, which is sticking around and cultivating things over a long period of time, delaying gratification. As someone who often solved problems by getting a new job, I’ve had to acclimate to this longer view of things. Getting comfortable where you are, that’s what farming’s all about. That’s why I think Ransom said to me on our first date, “I’m going to be here forever.” If you want to be with me, you’ll find a way to grow within this environment. I don’t think I realized what that was about at the time.

So, are you settling down?

Well, Ransom and I are getting married at the end of the May. And I think there will be a time when I’m much more involved in day-to-day operations at the farm. I don’t think that time is right now. We talk about a vision of where things might go some day–diversifying, expanding the corn business his mom has developed to a seasonal or year-round retailer. Through this job, I’m learning to better understand how it all works together–the research on agriculture, the grant money that’s available. To come into this as a complete outsider would be really difficult. Since moving here, the idea of working on the farm and having my own business has appealed to me, but I didn’t know how to put one foot in front of another to make that happen. I hope to come back to that at some point when I have some more ideas and more clarity about what that would be. That’s the long-term goal.

[Image: Alison Kosakowki]

via Fast Company http://www.fastcompany.com/1837224/from-advertising-to-social-media-for-farmers?partner=rss&utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+fastcompany%2Fheadlines+%28Fast+Company+Headlines%29

Yahoo! Résumégate Day 12: Peace In Our Time

It seems that some combination of Dan Loeb persistence, cancer, and possibly incorrectly filled out job application paperwork have brought down Scott Thompson at Yahoo, and that’s not the only success activist investors have to report recently. From Bloomberg: A generation ago such investors typically grabbed headlines under a different label: corporate raiders, robber barons,…

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Tags: activism, Dan Loeb, Hedge Funds, Third Point, Yahoo




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Italian tourist shot in Brooklyn scuffling with  suspect who stole daughter’s necklace 

A 62-year-old Italian tourist visiting his daughter in Brooklyn was shot and wounded in a scuffle with a thug who snatched her necklace, police said Monday.

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Why women chose bad boys: Ovulating women perceive sexy cads as good dads

Nice guys do finish last at least when it comes to procreation according to a new study that answers the question of why women choose bad boys. New research has demonstrated that hormones associated with ovulation influence women’s perceptions of men as potential fathers.

via ScienceDaily: Latest Science News http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2012/05/120514134301.htm?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+sciencedaily+%28ScienceDaily%3A+Latest+Science+News%29

NBC’s ’30 Rock’ To End Its Run Next Season

Nellie Andreeva

Going into the upfronts, it became clear that the upcoming 13-episode season of 30 Rock would be the series’ last. And, after denying yesterday that a decision to end the show has been made, NBC chairman Bob Greenblatt today announced that the Emmy-winning comedy will indeed finish its run next season. “I know Tina, Alec (Baldwin) and the rest will deliver some of their best work,” Greenblatt said. “We think the world of Tina and hope she will be in the NBC family for years to come.

via Deadline.com http://www.deadline.com/2012/05/nbcs-30-rock-to-end-its-run-next-season/

Day of the Locust

A grasshopper weathervane has sat atop Boston’s Faneuil Hall since 1742. The grasshopper through its glass doorknob eyes (scroll down), witnessed the Boston Massacre, the Boston Tea Party and the siege of Boston. On January 4th, 1974, the grasshopper was stolen but returned and repaired.

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Journalist expelled from China reflects on experience

Melissa Chan of Walnut is the first accredited foreign correspondent to be barred from China in 14 years. She is not sure what prompted her expulsion.

After filing 400 stories from China, reporter Melissa Chan never thought she’d wind up in the headlines herself.

via L.A. Times – California | Local News http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-melissa-chan-20120514,0,5342851.story?track=rss

The Lobbyist in the Gray Flannel Suit

Will the corporate takeover of lobbying firms make us surprisingly nostalgic for the old school version?

via NYT > Most Recent Headlines http://campaignstops.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/05/14/the-lobbyist-in-the-gray-flannel-suit/

Our First Expatriate President

by James McGirk

ScreenHunter_32 May. 14 09.04Pundits on the right and left have described President Barack Obama as having a distant attitude toward the United States – on the right they call it narcissism and hint at secret agendas and question his patriotism, while on the left they wonder darkly whether he might be “too brainy to be president.” I think it is something else. I have never met President Obama, but our lives have converged in unusual ways. Perhaps unpacking my own intense and complex relationship with the United States might shed some light into what might at first seem like an aloof and distant attitude toward our homeland.

Mr. Obama spent his formative years as an outsider and that estrangement shaped his view of the United States in a profound way. At school he was peculiar, he had lived overseas and was a jangled mixture of races and cultures. His father was Kenyan, his stepfather was Indonesian and his mother was a Caucasian expatriate academic. And Hawaii, particularly in the 1960s and 1970s, was more like a forward operating base or an embassy than a state. Men and material were flowing through it en route to Vietnam and the federal government had a far more pervasive and sinister presence in Hawaii than it did elsewhere. The United States wasn’t a fundamental part of himself  – not in the unambiguous, automatic way it would be for someone born in Detroit, Michigan – rather his sense of belonging to the United States was something that had to be negotiated.

My early life was equally jangled. My parents were journalists and my grandfather was a petroleum prospector for Texaco, which meant that our family was estranged from the United States for more than 70 years. Growing up, the U.S. was a highly abstract concept that was paradoxically close and accessible to me. My information about the country came from mostly headline news, and was highly polarized; this was the era of Ronald Reagan and Margaret Thatcher, and more often than not the news contained tales of the tape comparing the United States with the Soviet arsenals. What little of I saw of the real U.S. came in brief glimpses during visits to embassies or when we visited relatives in Southern California. In comparison to the bleakness of the United Kingdom, Spain and India, the U.S. was a technologically advanced paradise where everyone looked and sounded the way I did.

Being American became something that underlined how different I was from my peers. Rather than let my accent fall into the posh London grooves of my classmates, I tried to speak in as vulgar and American an accent as possible. As the countries we moved to became increasingly poor, the United States seemed to be a paragon of democracy and civic leadership in comparison. In high school, in New Delhi, I attended an American school for the first time in my life, and was deeply dismayed by how little my professors and peers seemed to appreciate it.

I was quite isolated from my peers. My fellow American classmates and most of my professors lived on antiseptic embassy compounds and had access to American produce and groceries, while we lived the way the natives did (i.e. the wealthy natives, a fair approximation of the way that Mr. Obama lived in Indonesia, or even Hawaii, where he attended Punahou School, considered the state’s most exclusive). Our school curriculum, typical of a prep school in the 1990s, preached tolerance and diversity, touted multiculturalism as the solution to the world’s woes, yet the moment we ventured beyond the diplomatic enclaves we were singled out as strange visitors from somewhere so different, so wealthy and splendid, that packs of children and beggars would follow, begging for alms and attempting to grope our hair and clothing.

I took this squishy multi-culti curriculum as personal attack. It was absurd. How could India, where people were losing limbs in the street possibly be any better than the United States? I imagined the U.S. as crystalline and technological and perfect and scrabbled for fragments of it reading science fiction or the Last Whole Earth Catalog, or while in throes of hallucinogenic drugs or stumbling drunk. I resolved to abuse my brain until it shut down and I could reanimate it once college began.

Mr. Obama and I both began our studies in the West, he at Occidental College and I at the University of Colorado at Boulder (and a year later at the University of California, Irvine) before we both drifted eastward. My first glimpse of the real United States was a rude shock. Coming home was an absolutely traumatic experience for me, I was so disappointed in the country I had claimed as home that I lost the ability to speak without a severe stutter and spent an entire year almost catatonic, living with my nonagenarian, hoarder grandparents in California. During those dark years I had nothing to cling to other than my status as a former expat. I cherished the glimpses of it I had when I visited them on vacations or did internships overseas, and let my life stall while I waited be sucked back up into the globetrotting lifestyle that my parents and grandparents lived.

I was drawn to the idea of New York City as a world city – it seemed an acceptable compromise or at least a launchpad toward something suitably grand and international – and eventually completed my stalled education at Columbia University, which had a reputation overseas as being an international university. I’m not quite sure what it was that threw me so out of loop about returning home to the United States, whether it was seeing how crass and commercial the culture could be at times, or whether I just wasn’t mentally prepared to engage with it and projected my own insecurities onto it, but as I recovered I was left with a peculiar sort of double remove from the country I ostensibly belonged to. Mr. Obama spent a few years after college writing newsletters in New York City before getting a job in Chicago directing a church-related NGO, and perhaps it was there that he stabilized and quelled his own drug and alcohol abusing demons by discovering a universal connection to the state and his polygot roots through Christianity and service to the community.

There are, of course, some pretty significant differences between the way that Mr. Obama and I have been received by our respective homelands, and the biggest divergence is race. While I stuck out as a Caucasian in India and received unusual and uncomfortable attention because of my race, in the continental United States I was definitely in the majority. Up close I might have come off as a sounding different and not being quite as adept with pop culture as my peers, but to a casual observer I seemed no different than any other American. So where I experienced a double estrangement from my homeland, it was invisible and internal; he had to deal with a third level that marked him as a stranger to the dominant culture, although in being a member of a minority there is a paradoxical connection to community, in that to outsiders you are considered a member of the minority, whether you want to be or not.

About the time this column goes to press tomorrow, President Obama will pay a visit to my workplace. I won’t be anywhere near the man, so for me this means a snarled commute a pat down before I can sit down at my desk, but I still feel a sort of connection to the way that he seems to perceive the United States of America. Having been forced to re-imagine my place within the U.S. many times now, I have come to see being American as a far more fungible thing than I once did, it isn’t quite the colossus I once saw it for, but rather a cracked and vulnerable thing, an idea that still has tremendous strength if properly wielded. Let us hope that whomever wins in the fall appreciates this.

via 3quarksdaily http://www.3quarksdaily.com/3quarksdaily/2012/05/our-first-expatriate-president.html

Obama bumps ‘Battleship’

Vpage:
Preem kicks off late due to president’s fundraiser

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