My daughter called yesterday to share a quick story. Typical for our conversations, she starts to tell it, I grasp the meaning, label it, then I interrupt. I run away with her conversation while holding the theme, acknowledging her story. The running away with the conversation is really rude and I've even given it a nickname: interruptus-rude-amongst-us. But we've evolved to this style; it works for us.
Now, I can tell immediately if its going to be a quick phone call. She's on one horse, she's talking with Ricardo (her current favorite groom at the horse training facility where she rides professionally). She's using her syrupy sweet tone that works so well for her, "Ricardo, you're the best!" Now mind you, she called me, but she's still carrying on another conversation. It sounds something like, "Thank you for putting that blah-blah-blah horse 'thing-y' on that blah-blah-blah horse!" (My words inserted here because it sounds blah-blah to me after 18+ years of her living for, loving and riding horses. I feel like I've heard of every piece of horse tack ever invented, I worry that someday I'm going to be quizzed about it.)And I can tell its an important story because it can't wait for her to dismount from whichever thousand pound beast she's on.
So, the story is, her manager at the barn has told her "Don't Worry About It, Sarahjoy," assuring her that Joe blah blah will take care of it, whatever the it is. With years of experience in the equine industry and seeing that Joe blah blah doesn't take care of it, she knows she 'd*mn' better worry about it.
Of course, she doesn't have to tell me the real issue: misunderstandings or forgetting or poor follow-through are all part of human behaviors - but it is inhumane to allow this behavior when working with horses, or any animal. The significance does not escape me. I understand her concerns. (The inhumane story that instantly comes to my mind is the time my daughter arrived at the barn at about 4am to get a early start for a horse show, came upon a horse that had been left on the automatic horse walker all nite; the horse's owner had forgotton to put the horse away in its stall.) Her concerns of it being taken care of are huge. I'm no novice here.
But her story prompts an interruptus-rude-amongst-us. Using my arms and hands to help me talk, I shout, "Oh my god! Sarahjoy! It's a 'Mr. Al-a-ba-ma, Don't Worry About It Lit-tle La-dy,' Story!'"
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