Shit Job

It was a shit job. Quite literally. I was a 16 year old girl, and did have “farm experience“ as I said. I failed to mention that my dad had a small fruit tree farm, not the kind with horses and barn animals. I thought “yard work” and “spending time with horses” sounded like a nice summer job. Who cares if I have to wake up early! It was $20/hour cash, and to a 16 year old that was pretty good money.

I came wearing gardening gloves and jeans, and happily met with my best friend’s mom who gave me the job at 5:30 in the morning. I would be taking care of their race horses. She handed me a shovel and a wheelbarrow, and we started walking to the fields. I wonder what this is for, I thought. I must be pulling weeds. “I’m kind of behind. I keep meaning to get to this, and can’t by the time the day is done. I’m so grateful for your help. Anyway, you’ll see.”

“Don’t be intimidated” she added. “They can be intimidating.”

As I entered the horses‘ fenced in pasture they cautiously walked towards me. I held still and calm to show I could be trusted. They grew bigger as they got closer. Before I knew it I was face to chest with a mammoth horse! He was so tall my head came to the bottom of his chest (I’m not exaggerating). I had been around horses before, and this was no horse! This was some genetically altered mutant horse. What were they feeding this thing?? I didn’t know they even came in this size. I said “Hey, it’s ok buddy”, in my most soothing voice, to relax him and make him feel comfortable with me. He kicked over the wheelbarrow hard and knocked it over. I gulped. Glad that wasn’t my head.

More than a little intimidated (okay, mildly shaking), I cautiously slipped by the side of the wheelbarrow and dragged it towards me and away from said monster horse. I set it upright and looked ahead of me, down the field a bit. I understood the mission now. “Shit duty”. Bummer. “Well, I’m here now,” I thought and wheeled the battered barrow over to the big open shed. It had three walls, and a forth open, and I realized it served as a giant outdoor porta-potty for the three massive horses that looked like they just stepped off set from a photo op with Muscle magazine. The smell hit me hard like Dorthy’s house falling from the sky. How long has it been since this was cleaned? I held my nose for a second’s relief. The shit was a foot deep, and had both a soft warm and stinky layer and hardened hard to shovel layer. I looked at my sneakers and said good bye. You two have served me well, but I know there will be no coming back from this one.

Two hours later, in 90 degrees and 100 percent humidity, I leaned onto my standing shovel exhausted and looked at my progress. I made a dent in it. There was no way I could finish shoveling out all of the manure by end of shift. I was only due to be there a couple of hours. Sore from shoveling and dehydrated, sweating like a fat rich man with a cigar in a sauna, I called it a day. “$40. Wow.” Forty dollars suddenly didn’t seem like that much money. I stuck it out for the summer, but it really was the shittiest job I have ever had.