You know what I love about horse people? They will talk about anyone, anything, anywhere, any-freaking-time. It doesn’t matter if the subject of their griping is nearby. They don’t give a good gosh darn if they’re being painfully obvious that they’re talking about you or someone you know.
They’re perfectly happy to stand around gabbing at an annoying volume, interrupting your work one minute and the next whispering just loud enough that you know they’re still talking but quiet enough that you have no idea what about. You know how you know that the target of their ill-will is near? All of a sudden their vociferous bitching quiets down. No need for privacy. Nope, don’t move away or, heaven forbid, wait until later. They have to discuss this and they have to discuss it now dammit! This shit is important!
Fuck it’s like high school all over again. Not that I’m speaking from personal experience. Oh, I’m sure plenty of people have talked about me behind my back, to my side, hell, right in front of me even – but I’m way too oblivious to notice any of that. If you have something to say I suggest you say it to my face otherwise it’s a fairly safe bet that I was off in my own little world and likely didn’t even know you were within a fifty foot radius.
Regrettably, in the horse world, these gossipers aren’t little teenage bitches who don’t know any better – I’m actually referring to women in their fifties (possibly forties but the sun can be an unkind mistress and leathery skin prematurely ages a person). One would hope by that age people would confront the subjects of their bitter diatribes and resolve any issues like mature adults. That’s almost never the case in the horse world.