Everyone does it. You go to a nice restaurant, and after a terrific meal with a great waiter, you have no hesitation at adding a generous tip. But at any time as you are walking out to your car, do you consider the people beyond the service you just received?
For example, the farmers who raised the prime rib and fresh vegetables. The hours spent by a weary truck driver trying to beat the clock and make his delivery on time. The restaurant owner who is juggling the books in order to make ends meet long before he hires the chef to create the menu.
With this whole scenario in mind, I would like to bring something to your attention. There is an entire network of dedicated individuals who are the backbone of one of the largest shows in existence who never see a smile, nod or even a thank you. They are those behind the scenes. The fixtures of the Congress.
For one, the great ladies who open hundreds of pieces of mail to try and decipher the entries you sent them, not filled out, checks missing and completely illegible. Trainers, if you were in charge of the secretarial work, this might explain why we are horse trainers and not rocket scientists.
We all are guilty of roaming through the vendors oblivious to the collective of individuals it takes to layout, curtain, unpack, defrost, mix and bake for your shopping pleasure. These vendors supply you with the avenue to either celebrate with a cinnamon roll or cry in your beer at the bar.
How many times have you tapped your foot or rolled your eyes irritated at the fact you have to wait an hour after the last class to ride at night?
News flash, I’m pretty sure the tractor drivers who have spent all hours preparing and re-preparing arenas would like to get a good night sleep as much as you. This category includes all of the ring crews as well. I’m fairly sure if you’ve shown in the Celeste Center in the last 25 years or so, Ed Campbell has asked you what your number was and told you how many draws you were out.
Of course, nobody admits how many times they’ve acted unaware, or faked being deaf for that matter, for the sole purpose of making that extra lap we’ve convinced ourselves is going to make a HUGE difference.
I have endless amount of respect for the ring stewards. Some of the veterans, such as Rick Stevens have walked the showmanship inspection at the Congress long enough, that I have had the pleasure to have had him make revolutions around my daughter and me.
The judges at the gate, affectionately known as the “bits and butts judges”, should be given a Medal of Honor for having to deal with frantic mothers, disappointed exhibitors and the occasional near death experience from a collision with a horse who was less than impressed with the tent.
Last but certainly not least, the ladies that hold the position of sorting medallions, attaching prize envelopes and unpacking ALL of those coveted bronzes, has been the same mother/ daughter team for as long as I can remember.
Elaine Wells and her daughter, Jamie, have risked their lives trying to present awards to petrified horses in three arenas at once. The hours that they have spent incarcerated in the cave under the coliseum, also known as the awards office, should be commended.
So, remind yourself to be courteous. Give a smile to a gate worker. Be patient when asking questions at the office, and if you get an opportunity, extend a sincere thank you to all of those dedicated people of the Ohio Quarter Horse Association who do their best to make your Congress an experience you’ll always remember.
