Behind the posts, Rachel Arric weighs every word
Rachel Arric did not sit still for long during her interview.
She shifted in her chair, twisted her hands together, picked at the edge of her sleeve and tapped her foot lightly against the floor. Every few seconds, some small movement signaled nervous energy. But every time a question came, she locked in. She leaned forward, thought for a moment, then answered fully.
For someone who helps run a social media account followed by over 15,000 people, Arric does not project the image of someone constantly chasing attention. She does not perform with confidence. She does not oversell herself. If anything, she seems more concerned with getting things right than getting things loud.
That attention to detail shows up in how Arric approaches posting. She thinks about timing, about tone, about whether something sounds natural or forced, about whether it fits the voice of the account or just her own.
Caring about the work does not mean letting every reaction dictate how she feels about it. Arric has learned to separate effort from backlash.
“Do I feel a personal responsibility? No,” Arric said. “I mean, I think some people would, I don’t. I thought the Python arm thing was really funny.”
She was referring to a post from Feb. 12, 2025, when the Barstool Chicks account shared an article from BroBible about Oklahoma State baseball player Garret Shull and his unusually large throwing arm. The story, which dubbed him “Python Arms,” circulated online. The Chicks account reposted it. Some users laughed. Others questioned whether it crossed a line. Arric did not see it that way.
“I was like, ‘Why are you getting mad at me for this?’” Arric said. “This was meant to be funny and lighthearted.”
For Arric, the post fit what the account tries to do: find something strange, entertaining or uniquely campus-related and put it in front of people who already care about OSU. But once something goes public, it stops belonging to the person who posted it. That is the reality of the job.
Every caption, graphic and repost is instantly judged by thousands of people who do not know the person behind the screen. Sometimes that judgment is positive. Sometimes it is indifferent. Sometimes it is harsh. And sometimes, the hardest part is when nothing happens at all.
“Sometimes you post stuff and it just flops,” Arric said. “It’ll be like 50 likes. The engagement will almost be negative. You’re like, ‘Was that really only funny in my head?’”
For someone who puts creative energy into each post, low engagement can feel personal even when it is not meant to be. Arric said she has learned not to rely only on analytics. Instead, she uses people she trusts as a sounding board.
“I will text my friends and be like, ‘Is this funny? Does this make sense?’” Arric said. “Sometimes I’ll be like, ‘Does this sound like it’s coming from me too much? Does this sound like something Chicks would think is funny, not just Rachel?’”
That question reflects the tension built into her role. She is supposed to be herself, but she is also supposed to represent a brand. She is supposed to be creative, but she is also supposed to be consistent. She is supposed to be relatable, but she is also supposed to be careful.
Finding that balance is not something anyone teaches. Arric learned by doing the job. For more than a year, she largely did it alone.
“I’m an only child, and I like to do things by myself,” Arric said. “I did Barstool by myself for like a year and a half.”
At first, that independence felt natural. She was used to managing her own schedule, making her own decisions, solving her own problems. Running the account alone meant she controlled the voice, the timing and the direction. Nothing went up unless she approved it. But over time, that independence became isolating.
“In life, you can’t do it by yourself,” Arric said. “You’re never going to be anywhere as successful doing something by yourself as you are with a team.”
She learned that asking for help did not mean losing control. It meant gaining perspective. Working with others allowed her to see how different people interpret humor, tone and audience reaction. It also meant she did not have to carry the account alone.
Beyond teamwork, the role taught her professional skills she did not expect.
“It taught me how to reach out and network to people,” Arric said. “I’m grateful for the platform Barstool has given me to be able to reach out and network.”
Those opportunities come from the structure of Barstool’s college network. That network is overseen by Gino Fornaro, an Oklahoma State alum who founded the OSU Barstool account as a student and now coordinates hundreds of campus accounts across the country.
Fornaro ran the OSU account for six years, including two years in graduate school. During that time, he grew it from a few thousand followers into one of the most prominent fan-run platforms on campus.
“There’s few and far between where you can hand a 20-year-old an account and say, ‘Here’s 100,000 followers. Go be great,’” Fornaro said. “It’s a resume builder.”
He said the program is designed to give students real experience managing a large audience. But it does not come with a rulebook.
“There is no one guidebook,” Fornaro said. “It’s trial by fire.”
Each campus has its own culture. Each audience responds differently. What works at Alabama might fail at Oklahoma State. What goes viral one semester might fall flat the next. Fornaro said the key is understanding what makes each campus unique.
“Oklahoma State fans are very loyal,” he said. “They want to know everything.”
He contrasted that with schools like Alabama, where success is expected and scrutiny is different. Those differences shape how accounts operate.
Fornaro also emphasized that Barstool’s strength lies in its attention to small moments.
“ESPN is going to post the big highlights,” Fornaro said. “We find the guy in the crowd doing something ridiculous.”
That philosophy carries into Chicks. According to Fornaro, the Chicks account exists to represent a female voice within a brand that is often perceived as male-dominated.
“People kind of think Barstool is frat guys drinking beer,” he said. “They forget there’s a female side to it.”
Chicks is meant to highlight that side.
“It should be from a female perspective,” Fornaro said.
That does not mean avoiding sports. It means framing campus life differently. Certain trends, humor styles and cultural moments resonate more strongly with the Chicks audience.
Arric works inside that space while trying not to force anything. She does not see herself as representing an ideology. She sees herself as responding to what students are talking about. Still, she knows the brand’s reputation follows her. She does not dismiss criticism of Barstool’s past. But she also does not feel responsible for the company’s entire history.
“I think Barstool is a great organization,” she said. “They stand on what they believe.”
For her, the focus remains local. The main OSU Barstool account operates separately from Chicks but works closely with it.
Joshua Morallo, one of the primary administrators, described the job as constant mental work.
“All day was thinking about what posts we could put up,” Morallo said. “What’s trending. How we could cater it.”
He said fall semesters can be especially difficult.
“If you have a bad football season, it goes downhill pretty quick,” Morallo said.
When attention fades, creativity matters. Morallo said he aimed to post at least once a day. He balanced submissions with original content.
“I wanted some graphic stuff,” he said. “To show we could build things.”
Morallo also described how he became emotionally invested in the account after a personal breakup.
“I just made the account the thing I do,” Morallo said.
For him, the platform became a creative outlet.
Jack Surrette, another administrator, plays a different role. He specializes in video editing and daily monitoring.
“I spend all day on it,” Surrette said. “Checking DMs. Analytics. Submissions.”
He said he often creates “filler” content when nothing obvious is happening.
“If something funny’s on your mind, just put it together,” Surrette said.
The team communicates constantly.
“It’s like, ‘This is up. Anybody on this?’” Surrette said.
That structure allows Arric to focus on her voice without being isolated. The job has also changed how Arric views social media.
“As a marketing major, marketing doesn’t work on me,” she said. “You can see what they’re doing.”
Being behind the scenes revealed how carefully content is planned and tested. She also gained exposure to professionals through meetings and calls.
“You realize they’re just normal people,” Arric said.
That made the industry feel reachable. At one point, Arric considered working for Barstool after graduation.
“I thought it would be a great opportunity,” Arric said.
That changed.
“I’m looking more toward corporate sales,” Arric said. “Events.”
Even so, she sees her experience as valuable.
“It’s the reason I get most of my interviews,” Arric said.
Fornaro said that outcome is common. He estimated that about 30% of full-time employees were once viceroys. But he emphasized that the program’s value goes beyond jobs.
“It’s about the people,” he said.
That theme appears across the OSU team. Morallo talks about passion. Surrette talks about community impact. Arric talks about growth.
“It taught me to stand for what you believe in,” Arric said. “Ride for it.”
During the interview, she continued to fidget, continued to think, continued to choose her words carefully. She did not talk about “building a brand.” She talked about learning. She talked about teamwork. She talked about confidence.
Before every post, she still asks the same question.
“Is this funny?” she said.
It sounds simple. It is not. When thousands of people are watching, one question can carry a lot of weight.