These People Sound Really Un-Stable

, , , , , | Working | CREDIT: MO11YY | December 15, 2020

I was like a lot of young girls; I loved horses. “That crazy horse girl” was me, and I was her. My parents weren’t rich, so when I got ten lessons at our local stables for my ninth birthday, I was ecstatic, and I literally fell in love. I saved up to ride more, and I always dreamed about becoming a professional horseback rider. But there was one catch: the owners of the stable.

They quickly saw my enthusiasm and, being a new yard knee-deep in work, they made an offer that I literally cried over with sheer joy. When I was ten, they said I could work there! So, I started working every Saturday and Sunday from 7:30 am to 6:30 pm and some days after school. But I wasn’t getting paid, and I actually still had to pay them for my half-hour group riding lessons on Saturdays.

Not only was I working like a dog there, but they didn’t have any shelter for me and wouldn’t let me in their house. One winter was so bad that I sat in a stable and cried, trying to heat my hands up against a horse. I was an eleven-year old, freezing to death, and they wouldn’t let me in their mansion because I had “work to do.” The only toilet at the stables that I was allowed to use was in a rundown shed that had never been cleaned in the years I was there.

I got pneumonia; I developed hypothermia and I already had childhood asthma. I don’t remember a lot from that period of time, but I do remember going back to horse riding after recovering and getting yelled at for being away too long.

I was ignored, yelled at, and overall treated like crap, so my parents decided that at the very least I shouldn’t have to pay for lessons. Well, when I told the owners, they laughed at this and basically told me to f*** off, and I knew if I told my parents then I wouldn’t be allowed to go back. So, my parents stopped paying for lessons under the assumption I was getting them for free due to all my work, and I just pretended I was getting them when, in reality, I wasn’t.

Unfortunately, although my parents were aware it was a bad situation, they had no idea I didn’t have shelter or sanitary setups, but they knew the owners treated me like crap. I would lie and tell them plots of horse cartoons I’d seen, pretending I’d done it with my imaginary yard friends — sad, I know — and I told them that I was always given hot chocolate. And they did try to stop me going a few times, but I would cry for days and beg them to let me go back because I loved the horses so much.

I started dreading going, but I loved the horses and couldn’t imagine not seeing them every weekend, so I put up with the freezing weather, the abuse, and the exhaustion until I was fourteen. Something snapped and I had a mental breakdown and called my mum to come pick me up. The owners were furious because I was supposed to be leading a few lessons that day — another great perk of the job was walking around an arena for three hours nonstop, leading the new riders — and hadn’t finished mucking out all the stables. I couldn’t do it anymore and went home. For the first time in forever, I slept in and went out with friends.

A few months later, I started missing the horses badly and booked a lesson so I could see them. (I know, but I was desperate.) But when I got there, I found out that my favourite horse had died. No one had told me. I was getting weekly texts from the owners demanding I go in, but no one had even thought to tell me that the horse I had grown attached to over four years had died! I left right then and there in tears. They still made me pay for the lesson I never went to — even though it was a group lesson and this happened a few hours beforehand — and sent abusive messages to me until I blocked them.

They sold their school horses shortly after and became a livery yard. I walked away from horse riding after losing all faith in the sport. I do still miss the horses I looked after, and I hope they’re in the best homes possible. I gave this family my weekends, my time, and my childhood, and they didn’t give me anything in return. Sometimes they would even pretend I hadn’t paid for a lesson, knowing I was too anxious to protest, and I would cry at the end of the day, counting that $30 I had given them for nothing.

I eventually told my parents; they are racked with guilt to this day and have apologised a lot. I didn’t realise at that age that I was being abused because — even though most of the time the owners would talk down to me and shout at me — they would occasionally compliment me, and I would feel so appreciated and happy.

As I’ve told this story, a lot of people have pointed out that this was way more serious than I gave it credit for, and I’ve decided that I will try and take legal action, or at the very least, get the message out about how bad they treated the help. I’m not sure how it’ll go, but I’ve realised that if they did it to me, they’ll do it to other kids, and I will try shine a light on the truth of this company.

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Her Directional Skills Are Crap

, , , , , , | Learning | October 19, 2020

My sister and I have gone horseback riding and have just returned back to the stables. My sister is in front of me and I start to notice that her saddle is sliding.

Me: “Excuse me! Her saddle is sliding!”

The instructors quickly notice and begin to shout directions at my sister.

Instructors: “Lean left! Try and counteract the saddle going right! Lean to your left!”

Despite the fact that my sister is over the age of twenty, she still struggles with her left and right; she leans to the right, causing her to fall into a giant pile of horse poop. However, she has not let go of the reins, trying to remain upright.

Instructors: “Let go of the reins immediately!”

The horse has become spooked and I can tell the instructors are worried about the horse striking my sister. My sister, however, has other worries.

Sister: “But I don’t want to go further into the poop.”

Instructors: “LET GO!”

Thankfully, my sister wasn’t hurt, but she was an absolute stinky mess. They refunded us for our ride and we could tell that they were panicking about us suing them. We are not that type of family, however, and accepted the refund. The only problem was that our parents were late picking us up, so we had to walk a bit back to our campground with her covered in s***. Once they finally came, she was forced to ride in the trunk and throw away her clothes.

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Dairy, Dairy, Quite Contrary, Part 3

, , , , , , , | Right | October 5, 2020

I drive a truck and deliver feed to dairies and feedlots. One night, I am pulling into a dairy that I have delivered to dozens of times, usually in the middle of the night, and where I rarely ever see anyone.

As I am pulling in, I see an old truck parked in front of the bin for the feed I have on. I line up and back to about twenty feet from the truck and get out. As I walk up to the very old pickup, someone gets out. It is an ancient woman that is weather-beaten and hard-crusted with a voice that would scare the devil.

She tells me that there was a mixup and I am supposed to deliver to a dairy about a mile down the road. I check my dispatch papers and there is nothing about this. I explain that without an order from my dispatch I can do no such thing. I politely ask her to move her truck so I can finish this job and go to sleep. She refuses.

I call my dispatcher. They sometimes answer late, but they don’t this time. Then, I call the dairy even though I know they won’t answer.

After arguing with her for almost an hour, I tell her goodnight and go to my truck and start to go to bed. She starts banging on the truck and obviously isn’t going to let me sleep.

After ignoring her for a while, I call her over and discuss the situation. I let her talk me into delivering to this other place but tell her I have never been here before and I am afraid to drive around looking for it. She assures me she will show me and that I can follow, and I agree. She gets in her truck and pulls over by the exit, and I put my truck in reverse and back into the bin, get out, and start unloading. 

She drives up so fast I think she might run me over, then jumps out and starts screaming and hollering. Then, she starts hitting me. I grab her arms and tell her to stop or I am going to call the sheriff.

That seems to take the wind out of her sails and she leaves.

After I call in the next day, we find out she was trying to get me to deliver her neighbors feed to her small dairy down the road and had actually gotten away with it in the past.

Related:
Dairy, Dairy, Quite Contrary, Part 2
Dairy, Dairy, Quite Contrary

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The Seeds Of Their Discontent, Part 2

, , , | Right | October 1, 2020

My parents own a feed and seed store, but we have just started working there the fall before this incident. It is spring now. An angry-looking guy comes up to me, and I try to help him as best as I can.

Me: “Yes, sir, can I help you today?”

Customer: “No, I want to see the manager.”

Me: “Okay, hold on just one moment, please. Dad!”

My dad comes up beside me.

Dad: “Yes, sir, can I help you?”

Customer: “Yeah, I came in last spring and picked two flats of [vegetable plants] when [Former Manager] was still here. I went home and planted them, but when I started getting fruit off of it, it was the wrong type. I went ahead and sold them, but I would like a refund seeing as I didn’t get the right thing.”

Dad: “So, you’re telling me that I should refund you for two flats that you picked out yourself this time last year, even though you made the same amount of money? I’m sorry, sir, but I cannot do that.”

Customer: “Why not? It’s your fault I got the wrong thing! I want my f****** refund now!”

Dad: “Sir, it’s your fault you got the wrong thing because you were the one that picked them up. Also, please refrain from using that type of language in front of my daughter.”

Customer: “F*** this. I can say whatever I f****** want to! And you, I’ll report you to the owner and have your a** fired!”

Dad: “Sir, I don’t think I can fire myself. Please leave or I will be forced to call the police.”

The customer proceeded to storm out of the store, shouting at all the customers in the parking lot not to shop here.

Related:
The Seeds Of Their Discontent

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Talk Horses***, Get Hit

, , , , , | Learning | September 19, 2020

I’m a member of my school’s horse riding club. This happens before a riding lesson, while we are putting on my mount’s bridle and saddle in the stable. It’s not the first time I’ve been stuck with [Horse].

Instructor: “So, how do you find [Horse] so far?”

Me: “She’s like my grandma.”

Instructor: “How so?”

Me: “Old, fat, and stubborn.”

The instructor is not sure whether to be offended or amused.

Me: “And lazy.”

My horse then swings her head around, clubbing me with her head. I’m wearing a helmet, so it doesn’t hurt, but I still get knocked aside.

Me: “Yeah, I deserved that.”

Somehow, that day, [Horse] is unusually active, requiring less nagging from me to move and more willingness to obey my commands. We even do jumps, after which, she goes into a canter, nearly throwing me off in the process. Much screaming is involved, to the delight of my girlfriend, who still refuses to let me live that down to this day.

After the session, we are taking the horses back to the stable and removing their saddles and bridles.

Instructor: “Good job, [My Name]. I think that that was the most exercise [Horse] has gotten this year.”

Me: “Yes, so maybe she isn’t as lazy as we thought, but I still think she’s like my grandma: cranky and bad-tempered.”

We pack up and I walk out of the stable. Just then, another horse trots past. The rider, horse and I are all looking in the wrong direction, so I get rammed and knocked into a puddle of mud. Thankfully, not only am I wearing a padded jacket and a riding cuirass, but I am also wearing a suit of motocross armour underneath, so I am fine, if only a bit stunned. Everyone rushes up to us, making sure that everyone is fine. The horse is panicking, but the instructors are all calming it down.

Me: *Getting to my feet* “Yeah, I definitely deserved that.”

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