As I sit here in my hotel room between two weeks of horse shows, I reflect on the past six years of my life as an “in-gate girl.” I used to be on the other side of the fence–I showed from age 15 to 24, from the children’s hunters to the amateur-owners, through college, then rode professionally for a year, so I know where the riders and trainers are coming from.

People are often surprised when I tell them that I competed, and the look on their faces when they actually see me riding is priceless. I’ve had people say, “Get a camera, she’s on a horse!” My favorite was recently said to me in Florida, after I told one professional rider that I actually rode professionally for a year. He said, “What, mules?” At least he thought he was funny.

There are lots of us in this business, from the one-ring local show, to those that do the gates down in Wellington, Fla. My experience falls in between the two, but no matter if it’s a one-ring show or a 15-ring show, we all have similar perspectives. I know there’s one thing that we can all agree on: every exhibitor, trainer, rider and owner should work the in-gate for a day. But I’m sure most of you would say, “No thanks!”

At a show this past summer, I started my in-gate pet peeve list. As I sat there writing it (when my horses were lined up waiting to get in the ring), I read it to a few friends who are trainers and exhibitors, and they all laughed.

They ranged from, “Please don’t snap your gum in my face when you’re trying to move up in the order,” to “Listen to the person in front of you asking a question, because chances are it’s the same one that you’re going to ask.”

Of course, my closest friends snapped gum in my face, blew smoke at me (I don’t smoke), asked me the same questions over and over again and even offered me bribes. Sorry to say, a buck isn’t going to get you very far! I never accept bribes anyway. Through all of the pet peeves that I listed, there were three common themes–communication, listening and common courtesy.

My Dog Ate My Saddle
The first one I can’t stress enough: Communication! Did I say communication? Hello, are you listening? When I get to the gate in the morning, usually an hour before my ring starts, I already have my sheets numbered and in order by the classes.

Now, trainer/rider/groom comes up to check his horses in. He puts Mary second, Jane third and Sue fourth in the adult amateur order (that’s assuming that those exhibitors are on my class sheet, because if they aren’t, guess what? Off to the office you go to get an add slip before you get on my order of go). I realize it’s really early in the morning, and these classes don’t go for another 10 hours, but I would expect these riders to remember, or be told, where they were put in the order.

(A helpful hint–if you don’t have a good memory, or you haven’t had your coffee yet, write it down!) Then when the class comes up, 10 hours later, they show up in their originally checked in order.

Now, I’m sure you’re sitting here saying wait, you have no idea! Yes, I know there are trainer conflicts, which I totally understand, and therefore try and work these things out for people who give me a heads up in advance. That’s one reason why we have radios, so each in-gate person can get in touch with the other to work out conflicts that are communicated to us.

Now, I don’t have ESP and don’t claim to either, and most days my crystal ball is broken, so the only way I know there is or will be a conflict is by the trainer/rider/ groom telling me.

One would think that there are only a few ring conflicts that can occur. Au contraire mon frere! You would be amazed at the “other” conflicts that I’ve heard–“my school teacher is coming to watch me, and she’s not here yet” or “I forgot my boots” (now how in the world can you come to a horse show and forget your boots?) or “my groom unbraided my horse before we showed” or “my trainer got lost getting lunch in town and we’re trying to find her” or “I can’t find my horse/dog/car/car keys/ groom/stall.” You name it, I’ve heard it.

Letting me know about a conflict sooner is better, especially when you know your division is starting in 15 minutes. At that point, you should know if you have a conflict.

This opportunity gives me time to let the riders following you know that they’re going earlier. My biggest pet peeve is when little Susie, whom I’ve been calling for 15 minutes, counting down the number of trips until she goes, comes up to me when she should be walking in the ring and says, “My trainer is at the other ring.”

Now the repercussion of this is that the ring sits empty, other exhibitors get mad because the division isn’t going, the show goes on longer, the judge gets irritated, and most of all the horse’s back gets sore because now little Susie is sitting on it even longer, instead of figuring out the conflict ahead of time and taking the horse out of the stall later.

In this situation at least little Susie said something and is making an effort to make her spot on time, even though 15 minutes ago she knew full well it wasn’t going to happen.

The other end of the spectrum is the exhibitor who doesn’t even show up, nowhere to be found. For all I know he fell into a hole on the way to the ring. At this point, I do something that not every in-gate person does–I radio other rings asking for the whereabouts of this trainer or rider.

Then I have a heads up when the trainer frantically runs up to me 20 minutes after he’s missed his spot, and begs, pleads and offers me his first-born child (I’d rather have your really nice hunter.) to get his client in the ring, therefore shuffling everyone around to accommodate the frantic trainer. Consequently, other trainers become upset because I told them they were in six trips and now it’s eight trips.

To those trainers who complain because they had two trips put ahead of them, remember, one day I know it will be you! To the trainer who wants a favor: be nice! I will bend over backwards as long as you’re nice. But if you’re nasty to me, you can come back at the end of the class or in 20 trips when I can fit you in, after everyone in the schooling area shows.

Take Off Your iPod!
For those of you who know me, you know I do a good job communicating in the barn. I announce where my ring is and how far from the jog/hack/next class we are. This brings me to my second point: the art of listening.

Now I know there are those exhibitors and trainers who think announcers say too much over the barn PA system. There’s one particular show in Virginia that has the horn right by the stalls of some friends. They tell me all of the time that the announcer talks so much they tune her out. I think the exact quote was, “She sounds like Charlie Brown’s teacher.”

I know when I was showing, all those announcements used to annoy me too. But now I know why they were important–so people didn’t go up to the in-gate person and say, “Well, I never heard the announcement.”

As many announcements as I make each day, I still have people tell me “I’ve been back in the barn for the last five hours and haven’t heard one announcement.” When this happens, I think to myself, “There’s more to the story here, maybe they aren’t telling me.”

Although they were back in the barn for the past five hours they were either sleeping, the Spanish music was blaring (Go ahead and laugh, but you all know that I’m right!) or they were talking with their friends.

If I could come out of the PA horn and tap each individual person that I’m talking to on the shoulder, I would. But, unfortunately, I haven’t figured out that one yet.

As I’m making these announcements, inevitably I have someone very patiently (thank you) waiting to talk to me. This person usually stares at me, wondering why I won’t acknowledge her as I’m talking into the radio. After I finish making my barn call of the status of my ring, the nice patient person who’s been standing quietly in front me asks the question that I really don’t want to hear, “What’s going on here?” You see my point?

As you can tell, communication, listening and common courtesy all go hand in hand. If you take these three things into consideration at a horse show, you’ll get so much further with the horse show staff. Most of the in-gate personnel who I know and work with will agree with me. This job has taught me a lot about myself, as well as how to deal with and be patient with people.

On top of having been an exhibitor for years, most people are shocked to also find out that I have a master’s degree. I always get asked, “Why aren’t you using your degree?”

I’ll tell you why: I love what I do, and for the most part, I love the people that I encounter on a daily basis. I’ve met so many different people, from so many walks of life doing this; I don’t think that you can meet such a diverse group of people doing anything else. Some of these people–and you know who you are–have become my best friends and my family, and I wouldn’t give that up for anything.

So the next time you have a trainer conflict, just remember those three magic words and I might just move you up in the order!