Oh, the part-time jobs we're willing to pick up in order to fuel the horse addiction! I'm not speaking of the barn rat type gigs. Another topic entirely.
I'm talking about the times when I become slightly touched in the head and think, how about doing something that doesn't involve shavings in the hair and boots that aren't allowed in the house? How about dangly bracelets and styled hair and nail polish?
I know, I'll become a leader with the popular weight loss company with which I was so successful. I'll be inspirational, I'll change lives, I'll make some mad cash!
I aced their interview, and filled out the mountain of hiring paperwork. This included a form solemnly swearing I wouldn't eat my feelings and no longer appear to be "the face of our organization." No problem. I've got breeches I need to fit into. I'm your gal. Solidarity and all that. Unless I have to move my horse and he goes on a hunger strike, or he colics, or dumps me out on trail. Then I'm embedding myself into a tub of ice cream like a tick on a dog. Legs waving in the air, and all.
I go through their extensive training and before I know it, I'm up doing my first presentation for actual members. What works in front of the judge? Good turnout, remember to breathe, don't grimace when you concentrate, needs more energy, add leg, look up, breathe, half-halt....I'm up there getting the job done, feeling composed, breathing, speaking, smiling. It's then that the person training me gets up, cuts me off, and finishes the spiel for me. It was as if the judge had leapt out of the judge's box in a fit up disgust, divested me of my horse, and finished the test. I was aghasted (hi, COTH'ers!).
My audience left and trainer lady glares at me and has one word: "Sit!" Which I do quickly in a submissive state that annoys me. I chalk it up to the fact that I've spent so many hours and dollars LEARNING how to sit. Then I realize that I just followed this command for someone who can teach me nothing about riding. Her feedback: I hadn't given the presentation right, I left out sacred phrases and added in unnecessary information when, I don't know, I was answering someone's question. She's going on about my screw-ups and I'm doing the math in my head....how many hours do I have to spend with this harpy to pay for a month's board? The exchange rate is not looking good.
I'm wanting to get some dirt back under my fingernails. I use my best "this isn't a good fit" verbiage to extricate myself from the situation. So many times though, in and out of the horse world, I want to tell someone: "They make pills for how bitchy you are. Ask your doctor if being heavily medicated is right for you."