Tag Archives: #Livingthelifestyle

What Not to say to your Coach

 

PUPIL: Can you ride my horse for me next week? There is a cold front coming and I don’t like getting out of bed in the early morning when it’s very cold.

COACH: Sure, I don’t feel the cold at all and embrace sitting on a horse that’s greatest wish is to see me lying on the ground.

PUPIL: I can’t believe that you are going away next weekend, I told you I was going to a show.

COACH: This is the only time that I have ever missed one of your shows and you seem to forget everything that I have ever taught you the minute that you ride into the arena so there is really no point in being there.

PUPIL: I watched the Rio Olympic Eventing on TV and I really don’t think the track looked very big, I could definitely have done some of the jumps.

COACH: Considering that you refuse to trot over a small branch that has fallen across the bridle trail, I think there is more chance of hell freezing over.

PUPIL: So I saw that Baron Von Sprinkaulhasen ( a top coach from Europe ) is out here coaching next month, I have booked 6 lessons with him and will not be able to have any lessons with you next month as money is going to be tight.

COACH: Fantastic news, I have never heard of the person and only because they have a name that sounds vaguely European are you booking so many lessons with them.

PUPIL: During my clinic with Baron Von Sprinkaulhasen last month he showed me a video of a stallion that he has been competing on the European circuit. It has Olympic bloodlines and he really feels that it is the perfect horse for me. Can you ride my horse next week while I go overseas to try the stallion ?

COACH: No problem at all but please can you settle your account with me that has now been outstanding for three months.

PUPIL: I am exhausted after all the practice we have been putting in for the Derby.

COACH: The Grooms Handler class does not count as riding at the Derby.

PUPIL: I know that you are in hospital having reconstructive surgery on your nose but I really need a lesson tomorrow morning.

COACH: No problem, just give me a few hours to get over the aesthetic.

PUPIL: Baron Von Sprinkaulhasen thinks that I should be in a light seat when I am cantering.

COACH: Considering that your horse runs away with you on a regular basis, I think you are asking for trouble.

PUPIL: I could not be happier about winning that class.

COACH: You were the only one in the class.

PUPIL: I have a cash flow problem this month so I can’t pay you but will try next month.

COACH: I suppose the helicopter that you arrived in for the lesson is your way of cutting costs?

PUPIL: You are so lucky to work outdoors with animals, it must be so rewarding.

COACH: Yes, being outdoors in all weather and never knowing what sort of salary one is going to earn is certainly a rewarding experience.

PUPIL: Can you ride my horse for me on Saturday morning, I like to have a lie in during the weekend because I have to get up early during the week to get to the stables by 8 am.

COACH: It would be such a pleasure, who needs a lie in? Especially when your 8am lesson is my third one of the morning.

PUPIL: I did not recognise you without a hat on, you look so different!

COACH: Yes, underneath the hat and sunglasses lurks a normal person that is not always covered in dust and suffering from sinusitis.

PUPIL: I have decided to move yards at the end of the month, the new yard has a horse walker, indoor arena and a spa. It is R1750 more expensive than where I am now but I think it’s worth it, and by the way they do not allow outside coaches so I am going to have lessons with the in-house coach there, I am sure you understand don’t you ?

COACH:  I have just put 5 years of my life getting you and your horse to jump an 80 cm track and am actually quite fond of the horse but it’s really no problem at all.

PUPIL: How do I get my horse to prance on the spot, you know when it sort of goes up and down? Like at the Olympics.

COACH: Considering you can barely trot a 20m circle with your horse in a frame, I can safely say we are light years away from teaching it to piaffe.

PUPIL: My horse is so talented and loves me so much, I have not ridden for two weeks and look at how well he is going.

COACH: Yes, it is all down to the horse loving you and me riding it for two solid weeks (while you were in Europe trying horses) has nothing to do with its way of going at all.

PUPIL: Do I have my spurs on the right way round?

COACH: Yes, and you would not need spurs if you actually started to use your leg a bit.

PUPIL: I just feel that I should look at some horses overseas, we have nothing in this country that is really good enough to go to the top.

COACH: And you feel that you are capable of riding a horse that is considered world class?

PUPIL: Guess what? I went to an auction this weekend and bought the most amazing horse.

COACH: Great news, that horse was being ridden at the auction by one of the best riders around and even he was battling a bit with it. The reason you only paid R150 000 is because it has a reputation longer than my arm and is known at home by the grooms as MUGABE because it destroys everything in its path. I will look forward to riding it for you after is face plants you into a fence.

PUPIL: Thank you so much for all that you do for my horse and I, I don’t know where I would be without you.

COACH: It is such a pleasure, I do this job because I love it and every so often I meet someone who really appreciates and values my opinion.

 

“Where for-the-love-of-all-things-holy ARE you?” ~ Georgina Roberts

I breathed through my nose and resisted the urge to yell into the phone at my boss “Oh, I’m eating cupcakes and painting my nails,” and instead looked folornly at the selection of socks on the Sportsman’s Warehouse floor.  In all my dreams of working for a top rider, I never envisaged arguing about his underwear. Let alone with anyone other than him.

The salespeople were now giving me a wide berth as I sat on the growing heap of softness, agonising over the length of said socks as well as the thickness, for they had to be plush enough to keep my mentor’s feet comfortable for the whole day in his Italian (probably made from baby seal) leather boots while jumping the World Cup, but not SO thick that his toes were being crushed, which had led to the morning’s training session ending abruptly and him peeling off the offending footwear and lobbing them at me with agonised yelps that chastised me, the sock sellers, and the people who had made them.

 There are many things that you never ever envisage yourself doing as a working pupil. And oh my, there are SO many things you are going to do that you cannot tell anyone about…

Like buying a variety of thrush medication at the chemist for a horse’s canker, smiling sweetly as the alarmed pharmacist rings up sixteen tubes at arm’s length.
About the KY jelly tubes that your housekeeper took out of the kitchen, where you had left them conveniently for the next time you needed to artificially inseminate a mare, only to place them discreetly at the bottom of your underwear drawer. Little does she know we are too tired for supper most nights, let alone the level of kink she imagines us indulging in.
And let’s not mention trying to shuffle space in your boot amongst the spurs, whips, and leather straps for the shopping as the car guards (or once-off guests) try to look everywhere BUT there.

The worst is that there is no way to include this in a job description without terrifying twenty year old girls into a convent, so it really is a trial by fire of all the “added extras” you weren’t expecting to do as a stable manager or aspiring championship-winning rider. But, as anyone who has been in horses for years comes to realise, horses have a way of taking over your life, from your heart to your car to – apparently – your underwear drawer.

 Right, the socks.

“I can’t find the right ones,” I whispered into the phone.
“What?” he bellowed, “No, no, I need you here now, the vet is here to AI that client’s mare.”
“Well, the, er, stuff, is in the ice box in my car,” I hissed back at him.
“Are you drunk? What are you talking about?”
“The STUFF,” I muttered, “the STUFF… the… OH, THE SEMEN IS IN MY CAR.” It was too late to take it back. The entire store froze.
“Well why didn’t you say so? Hurry up and get back here.” Click. Sigh. Curse under breath.

I gathered the shreds of my dignity as the staff muffled laughter. It was only when I got out the parking lot that I realised the two pairs of socks I was agonising over were tucked firmly under my arm. There was no time to go back, and in any case, I felt that it was my deserved fee for being mocked.

I flew into the yard, the semen stowed safely in the Equitainer in my one hand, socks in the other.  My boss was about to berate me loudly in front of the vet and the client when he saw them, and whipped them out of my hand in delight, exclaiming loudly as he skipped away that I was the best stable manager he had ever had. The vet was already irritably examining the sperm motility, and the groom moaned at me for making his lunch run late.

 

Still, I felt that warm glow of pride in my chest for the rest of the day. We inseminated the mare, and it was only later when I was lying on the sofa arguing with my housemate over who’s turn it was to cook, that I realised getting praised for a job well done, especially when it involves sock theft and another tube of KY for your maid to find in the kitchen (“Wena, dis one!”), is kinda like wetting yourself in dark breeches: you may have a warm feeling, but no one else really notices, and you sure as hell can’t tell them.

 

Still, kinda tempted to add it to my CV.