High heels begone! An urban escape takes root
By Tan Weiyun |
March 15, 2013, Friday
|
Print Edition
Print Edition
BUCKING the popular trend of migration to city from farm, Zhou Yueya, 36, found her niche in the countryside of Songjiang District.
Ten years ago, Zhou quit a well-paid city job as an information technology sales manager, kicked off her high heels, rolled up her sleeves and became a farmer.
Today, her organic business has turned into quite an empire. She owns Shanghai's largest blueberry farm and operates a 20-hectare site in Wushe Town that grows all sorts of fruit, vegetables and seedlings. In addition to supplying about 70 tons of produce a day to international fast-food chains, supermarkets, restaurants and school canteens, her farm provides a tourist haven for day-trippers seeking relief from anxiety and stress.
"I have to admit I was probably a little rash in quitting my job 10 years ago," she said, with a knowing smile and the benefit of hindsight.
Zhou has what might be called a stylish country look. Her garb is comfortably loose but not ragged. Her glasses and careful diction suggest a polish not usually associated with rural life. But her deeply tanned complexion reveals that success didn't come behind a desk.
In 2003, Zhou rented land in the countryside and established a horticultural company with a friend. "My friend told me we were going to go into the flower business, but when I got there, I found it was nothing to do with flowers," she recalled.
Hard starter
The 2.7-hectare site was growing tomatoes. Worse, some 200 kilograms of ripe tomatoes sat in the vines without a buyer in sight.
Zhou said she had no choice but to start looking for a market. She opened the yellow pages and began dialing the numbers of produce wholesalers who might be interested. She finally found one and clinched the sale by using some of the eloquence she had learned back in her days as a sales manager.
It was a hard slog the first few years and initially Zhou seemed like a duck out of water.
She insisted on wearing suits that looked a bit snooty to rural folk and deigned to spend any time with the farmers working for her. She refused to call her business "farming," preferring the term "modern agriculture."
She spent most of her time cultivating clients, not local experience or goodwill.
"I didn't have a right, positive attitude toward what I was doing at that time," she recalled. "And I got punished."
The business didn't go well. In fact, it was headed for disaster. Zhou lost all of her 500,000 yuan (US$80,257) initial investment and owed more than 1 million yuan to friends and the bank.
Spring Festival of 2005 was the depth of her despair. Zhou turned off her cell phone, which rang dozens of times a day from creditors, and sat alone under the foot of the Buddha in the Longhua Temple, crying for a whole day and asking for divine guidance.
Standing alongside the lake in Century Park for hours, "I did think about ending my life," she said.
But she didn't. Instead, she told herself to get a grip and make one last heroic attempt to turn the business around.
"Three months," she said. "I gave myself three months."
Expansion
Zhou dumped her fancy suits, and wore loose shirts and sneakers to work with the farmers in the greenhouses. She took a hand in every facet of the business, from watering to weeding. She developed a marketing channel and, through hard bargaining, managed to keep costs in check.
"I benefited a lot," she said. "I learned how to communicate with farmers and how to strike a balance between profits and farmers' interests."
In 2007, Zhou worked with a restaurant that supplied 170,000 box lunches a day to 22 schools. That opened a new market for her.
Today, the business has expanded into cultivation centers in Zhejiang and Jiangxi provinces. Zhou also opened a tourist farm center, where urbanites can come to enjoy the freshest organic food and indulge in local pottery, reading and essence oils.
In 2009, Zhou developed a logistics and delivery system capable of tracking produce from pickup to delivery.
She has also encouraged subordinates to develop new markets and start their own businesses. Zhou invested in a 20-hectare blueberry base one of her managers established.
She is now developing Japanese sweet persimmons, a new product she plans to promote in China. In addition, her lavender-growing project is in full swing.
This year she said she hopes to take her company public in an initial offer of shares.
"I've experienced a lot through bad times and good times," she said. "You have the right attitude toward life and a good state of mind. I have also learned how important it is to thank those who help you and to remain loyal to those who stick by you during the hard times."
Ten years ago, Zhou quit a well-paid city job as an information technology sales manager, kicked off her high heels, rolled up her sleeves and became a farmer.
Today, her organic business has turned into quite an empire. She owns Shanghai's largest blueberry farm and operates a 20-hectare site in Wushe Town that grows all sorts of fruit, vegetables and seedlings. In addition to supplying about 70 tons of produce a day to international fast-food chains, supermarkets, restaurants and school canteens, her farm provides a tourist haven for day-trippers seeking relief from anxiety and stress.
"I have to admit I was probably a little rash in quitting my job 10 years ago," she said, with a knowing smile and the benefit of hindsight.
Zhou has what might be called a stylish country look. Her garb is comfortably loose but not ragged. Her glasses and careful diction suggest a polish not usually associated with rural life. But her deeply tanned complexion reveals that success didn't come behind a desk.
In 2003, Zhou rented land in the countryside and established a horticultural company with a friend. "My friend told me we were going to go into the flower business, but when I got there, I found it was nothing to do with flowers," she recalled.
Hard starter
The 2.7-hectare site was growing tomatoes. Worse, some 200 kilograms of ripe tomatoes sat in the vines without a buyer in sight.
Zhou said she had no choice but to start looking for a market. She opened the yellow pages and began dialing the numbers of produce wholesalers who might be interested. She finally found one and clinched the sale by using some of the eloquence she had learned back in her days as a sales manager.
It was a hard slog the first few years and initially Zhou seemed like a duck out of water.
She insisted on wearing suits that looked a bit snooty to rural folk and deigned to spend any time with the farmers working for her. She refused to call her business "farming," preferring the term "modern agriculture."
She spent most of her time cultivating clients, not local experience or goodwill.
"I didn't have a right, positive attitude toward what I was doing at that time," she recalled. "And I got punished."
The business didn't go well. In fact, it was headed for disaster. Zhou lost all of her 500,000 yuan (US$80,257) initial investment and owed more than 1 million yuan to friends and the bank.
Spring Festival of 2005 was the depth of her despair. Zhou turned off her cell phone, which rang dozens of times a day from creditors, and sat alone under the foot of the Buddha in the Longhua Temple, crying for a whole day and asking for divine guidance.
Standing alongside the lake in Century Park for hours, "I did think about ending my life," she said.
But she didn't. Instead, she told herself to get a grip and make one last heroic attempt to turn the business around.
"Three months," she said. "I gave myself three months."
Expansion
Zhou dumped her fancy suits, and wore loose shirts and sneakers to work with the farmers in the greenhouses. She took a hand in every facet of the business, from watering to weeding. She developed a marketing channel and, through hard bargaining, managed to keep costs in check.
"I benefited a lot," she said. "I learned how to communicate with farmers and how to strike a balance between profits and farmers' interests."
In 2007, Zhou worked with a restaurant that supplied 170,000 box lunches a day to 22 schools. That opened a new market for her.
Today, the business has expanded into cultivation centers in Zhejiang and Jiangxi provinces. Zhou also opened a tourist farm center, where urbanites can come to enjoy the freshest organic food and indulge in local pottery, reading and essence oils.
In 2009, Zhou developed a logistics and delivery system capable of tracking produce from pickup to delivery.
She has also encouraged subordinates to develop new markets and start their own businesses. Zhou invested in a 20-hectare blueberry base one of her managers established.
She is now developing Japanese sweet persimmons, a new product she plans to promote in China. In addition, her lavender-growing project is in full swing.
This year she said she hopes to take her company public in an initial offer of shares.
"I've experienced a lot through bad times and good times," she said. "You have the right attitude toward life and a good state of mind. I have also learned how important it is to thank those who help you and to remain loyal to those who stick by you during the hard times."
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