Horses & Hearts & Humans

The choices we make with people have little to do with the choices we make in the horse world. The different directions our destinies travel all relate to what has happened in our lives, with horses. The Great Divide I get so angry about, has forced some good people to get out of the horses. Like me.
I'm going to make some huge, sweeping generalizations. I'm great at that.

Horses are sad, because the industry can't hold onto the people it needs the most. Why? The Great Divide, which includes the different disciplines, and the GIANT socio-economic factor. Hey, not bad eh? Sounds like a thesis for a Ph.D. dissertation.
I miss teaching, terribly, can ya tell? Poor Andalusians, never ask me a question without expecting about a ton of information. I'm like a darned geyser, I love to spout what I know. I love to learn what I don't know. After GoLightly was sold, I slowly got out of the horses. It took a long time, gradually. With each further disappointment/heartbreak, my desire to be with horse people flagged. My desire to be with horses never has. But I do need to eat.

After GoLightly sold, I continued teaching, and riding other people's problem horses. I was teaching an older wealthy couple, whose daughter was a boarder at the barn. Spoiled, nasty brat she was! Anyway, older wealthy couple wanted their own horse, as my dear schoolies didn't suit their desire for a fancier horse. (Never mind that the couple weren't exactly gifted.) I helped them find a lovely gelding, and the "promise" was that I'd be able to use said horse for my advanced students, in order to keep the horse well-exercised and safe for the couple. I was thrilled at the thought that finally, my advanced students could ride something that was actually younger than 18 years old, without major soundness/conformation issues. The arrangement lasted a week. Then, wealthy older couple decided that their horse wasn't low-class enough to be used in the school. The gelding became very difficult to ride, as he wasn't being used enough. I quit in disgust, about a month later.

I had my old boss (where I was teaching, and where GoLightly was sold from) sign a fantastic reference for me, when I did finally give up.
I was working in the big bad city, the culture shock just about killed me in the first few years. I was working very close to a Riding School. I applied for a part-time position, with my resume, because I missed teaching terribly. They were thrilled with my qualifications, but my salary demands were too high. I wanted a whole $20.00/hour, which I'd been earning before.
I had previously made $150-$200 bucks a week, tops, though. I wasn't paid for the hours between lessons. I had looked after "my" schoolies for free. My old boss fed them, mucked them, and paid for the not often enough farrier. All other expenses were picked up by me. Tack repairs, carrots, lesson plans. Brushes. I also paid him $200 per month to lease GoLightly. I was so poor. It was the final reason I had to quit. At 30 years old, with a degree and student loans to pay off, I had to start earning real money. 

With GoLightly gone, and no prospects to offer my good students, I lost heart.
This new barn charged $80.00/per person/per group lesson. They had a minimum class size of 4 or 5. But, ooh, I was too expensive. Never mind that my resume clearly indicated that I'd built "my" prior business from 5 students to 75 students in under two years. The profit margin had to be maintained. It was their loss, and mine too, of course.

I could have worked for $10.00/hour. I was just too proud to go backwards in salary. The Great Divide. If you are wealthy, you can have horses. But you can't buy talent and knowledge and desire and sense. In horses, that is not considered added value in an employee. A barn owner prefers the cheaper worker, and wonders why his horses suffer. My old boss had no idea how hard I worked for the whole barn. His barn workers were, um, not good. I did night check, and often found problems left by the workers. One poor mare, I came in, after teaching, and her water bucket had a dead mouse in it. She'd been shivering and nodding at her bucket all day, I'll bet. No-one noticed, but me. No-one appreciated it, but the mare. I never said anything.
Given the choice, the barn owner would rather pay $10.00 an hour. It's cheaper.
But the horses are sad.