Horses And Their Rear Ends Are Everywhere

, , , , | Working | May 5, 2020

I am the manager of a farm and I am in charge of the care of the horses and maintenance of the farm. My supervisor is the assistant trainer and is in charge of teaching lessons and riding the horses. I have nothing to do with my supervisor’s schedule.

Boss: “Did you take a lunch break on Saturday?”

Me: “Yes?”

Boss: “Did [Supervisor] take lunch?”

Supervisor: “No.”

Boss: *To me* “Why did you get a lunch break if she didn’t? If you have time to take lunch, you need to offer to buy [Supervisor] and the other workers lunch, too, since they didn’t have time.”

Yeah, I am not spending my own money to buy everyone food. I made hardly any money. I didn’t even go out for lunch.

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The Old Lady Can’t Get Off This Particular Ride

, , , , | Right | February 13, 2020

(We are exhibiting our miniature horses at the Fort Worth Stock Show. We have nice horses and do pretty well. We occasionally bring horses to sell. I am sitting in my stall, prepping my little 32″ tall horse for his class. My friend is with me. The door is open, because the little kids love to watch us. We like to talk to anyone who comes by; you never know who may buy a horse! An older “lady” sticks her head in the door.)

Old Lady: “They aren’t good for anything, are they?”

Me: “I beg your pardon?”

Old Lady: “Well, you can’t ride them. What good are they?”

Me: “Well, we drive ours and teach them to jump and do trail—”

Old Lady: *interrupts* “But you can’t ride them! They’re worthless!”

Me: *getting edgy* “You can do anything with them but ride them. We do parades and take them to nursing homes and—”


(By this time I’m getting frustrated, but still being nice.)

Me: “No, you can’t ride them. Only little kids can ride them.”

Old Lady: “WORTHLESS!”

(My friend and I look at each other.)

Old Lady: “Do you ride him?”

Me: *resigned* “No, ma’am, I don’t ride him. My feet drag.”

Old Lady: “Oh, okay.”

(Her highly embarrassed friends drag her away. My friend and I look at each other again.)

Friend:Really? What was that?!

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Not Getting A Kick Out Of This

, , , , | Right | February 4, 2020

(A new girl has started taking lessons at my stable, and she announces one week that she’ll be bringing her dog next week. This isn’t a problem, as the owner has two dogs, and pretty much everyone brings them in. The horses don’t care, and the people don’t, either, as long as they don’t get in the way too much. The next week, she shows up with a medium-sized poodle cross that doesn’t seem like he’s seen a horse before in his life. She puts him in the sink area, which so happens to be right across from the cross tie where I’m grooming my horse. The dog starts barking, pawing, and making all sorts of noise, which freaks my horse out something fierce and makes all the horses in the area nervous. It’s sunny and quite warm out.)

Me: “Hey, do you mind tying your dog up to the outside wash stall? He’s freaking out [My Horse] a bit, and I don’t think [Her Horse] will appreciate it, either.”

Lesson Girl: “No. He’s very well behaved. [My Horse] loves him!”

(She then basically drags her dog over to my horse, who stomps, tosses her head, and tries to back into the wall despite being tied up. While I get control of my animal, she starts to cuddle her dog like my horse has hurt him, and glares at me.)

Lesson Girl: “She kicked my dog!”

Me: “First of all, she isn’t a kicker, she’s a bucker, and second of all, she didn’t even do that. Could you please take your dog outside? He’s really scaring the horses.”

(By now, every horse is paying attention, and the only other girl in the cross ties has taken to distracting her horse with treats, pets, and cuddles to keep him, one of the biggest horses at the stable, from breaking the cross tie.)

Lesson Girl: “The horses are scaring my dog!”

Me: “You brought him to a stable.”

(At least she finally took him outside. She hasn’t given me trouble about it since, either.)

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Evil Stepmothers Are Not Christian

, , , , , | Friendly | January 10, 2020

(It is February vacation, which is a week-long break for public schools in New England. My brother and his family visit, since they also have February vacation and my brother has work in Boston. My wife, my brother’s new fiancee — he’s a widower — and our combined five children and I go to a local tourist attraction, a farm and wildlife sanctuary that is open to the public. We are near the chicken coop when my brother’s fiancee just starts yelling at some Indian family nearby.)

Brother’s Fiancee: “Don’t talk about God that way!”

Indian Man: “I was not talking about religion.”

Brother’s Fiancee: “I bet you’re not even Christian!”

Indian Man: “No, I’m not. I fail to see how–”

Brother’s Fiancee: You’re condemning your kids to suffer in Hell.”

(At this point, my identical twin nieces are hugging me, scared.)

Indian Man: *calmly* “I will make a deal with you. I assume you are a Christian. I will live according to my Hindu virtues and you to your Christian ones, of which I believe intolerance of the beliefs of others seems to tragically be one such virtue. Then, when we die, we shall see who goes to Heaven and Hell, though the stakes are higher for you than for me, for neither Hell or Heaven are permanent to me. Should I make a mistake and end up in either, I shall be reborn with another chance to attain the divine.”

(My brother’s fiancee was speechless and walked to the car and waited there alone for a few hours while we finished our sightseeing. That evening, my brother called off the engagement. It appears she had been unpopular with her almost-stepdaughters for a while, making fun of the fact that they look the same, wear glasses, and are second graders, and also insinuating that their mother went to Hell because she was Jewish.)

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I’m Not Horsing Around Here

, , , , , , | Working | November 25, 2019

(When I am around eight, the Girl Scout camp near my house offers horseback riding lessons. As I’ve been to day camps before and had a fairly good time riding, my parents sign me up and take me for months. At this point, I’ve just become proficient enough to try galloping at my last lesson, and I’m excited to try again. This time, the instructors put me on a different horse, a stallion who has just arrived at the stable. I’ve ridden various horses over the course of my lessons, so I’m not particularly concerned as we start the warmups. However, after a few laps, the horse begins to stop every so often. I have to nudge him to start walking again, but a few feet later, he stops again. Finally, I voice my concerns to one of the instructors.)

Me: “I don’t think this horse is listening to me.”

Instructor: “You’re not being forceful enough. You can’t let the horse guide you. You’re in charge.”

Me: “But none of the other horses I’ve ridden have done this.”

Instructor: “Just keep trying.”

(I agree, and we continue with the lesson. The horse cooperates a little better, though he still seems to be fighting me. When we reach the galloping portion, he suddenly takes off running towards the open stable doors. We’re about a mile outside of town in the woods, and it’s a dark, cool night. Out of panic, I scream. Just before the horse reaches the doors, the instructors manage to grab the horse’s reigns and stop him. They take me off the horse, calm him down, and put him back in his stall. Afterward, they start to scold me while I’m still crying out of fright.)

Instructor: “You should never yell while on a horse! It frightens them!”

(Eventually, my mother stepped in to defend me, but I was so scared I don’t remember what she said. After I calmed down, the instructors and my mom convinced me to get on another horse to finish the lesson in hopes that I wouldn’t be scared of horses. Unfortunately, I was no longer interested in lessons, especially not with people who wouldn’t listen when I said something was off about the horse.)

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