Do you know the story of how I became a beekeeper?
It's a story I don't share much, because talking about my past makes me a wee bit uncomfortable. When your first job out of college is one in which everything you do is shrouded in secrecy, all correspondence is marked with an intricate system of classifications, and you are assigned a "pseudo" (short for pseudonym, or a fake name) on your first week on the job, you quickly adapt to not talking much about work.
In 2002 I landed an interview with the Central Intelligence Agency. The opportunity came after a career fair and in the form of a weirdly vague email from "the U.S. Government." The interview was void of any expected bravado or fanfare: it was held in a low-rate hotel off the highway in Durham, North Carolina. I was finishing my senior year at Duke University, and just barely starting to acclimate to the culture shock I experienced from landing at the prestigious school all the way from the tiny west Texas town of Smyer, population 400, where I was born and bred. Three months later I was notified I was in, and what transpired was almost 8 months of personality testing, psych interviews, drug tests, background checks, and interviews with every roommate, neighbors, family, and friends of the last 21 years.
I worked in what was called the Near East Division, under what is now known as the National Clandestine Service. It was 2003, and the Iraq and Afghan Wars were in full swing.
Over the next 10 years I worked on issues related to Iraq, Pakistan, and Afghanistan from a 360° viewpoint. Support, intelligence gathering, policy, audits, and investigations: I touched a little of all of it. Sometime around 2013, I saw a beekeeping class on Groupon. (Remember that platform!?) My first thought was: "Weird. That's a thing?" I signed up with a woman named Gina that I had met at a local coffee shop. (Who would later come back full circle as a beloved Two Hives employee!)
I came home that day OBSESSED with bees. I couldn't stop quoting bee facts to anyone that would listen. I started two bee hives with a friend (Two Hives name origin story!) and within months wanted to pursue this little hobby a bit further. Less than a year later I quit my job. I was mortified to share my plans with my D.C. coworkers. Interestingly enough, my D.C. people were more supportive than my Austin crew. Turns out a lot of govies really just wanna buy an orchard and start a cidery.
I spent the next spring season working for a commercial beekeeper out of Navasota, Texas. I got the job through a cold email, with a cover letter that cited my Olympic lifting PRs and touting my experience with the military to demonstrate I'm one tough cookie. Four months later I returned to Austin, unsure of what the hell to do next. My "honey company" woudn't have a real honey harvest for another year.
I lived off of savings and worked part time as a food tour guide to make ends meet. I knew I needed another way to bring Two Hives revenue, but didn't know the answer. One day I was reading a book called The $100 Startup, and the book had a chapter entitled "Get Paid Twice." It stuck with me. How could I get paid twice to produce a tangible jar of honey that I could only sell once?
I was struck by how in awe all my friends were anytime I let them visit my hives with me. Would people PAY for this experience? I cold-called outdoor Meetup groups in Austin, pitching them my new experience. It was a hit, and "hive tours" were born, my first real product.
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