Jan 10, 2014
10 Reflections regarding my trailer-backing deficiency
1. I felt cared for that friends, who saw my FB cry for help, waited at calf weigh-in in the cold 2 hours so they could help me back up the trailer.
2. I also felt a little pathetic.
3. And when Kebrom whipped out his camera and asked if he could take pictures of my trying to back up the trailer, I felt more pathetic.
4. I did politely (and bravely) dismiss our friend’s kind offer to back it up for me and when my turn came confidently began the process…but from everyone’s panicked yelling (led by Geoffrey) I immediately recognized I was taking the absolutely incorrect angle.
5. Carefully heeding the advice and hand motions now being offered by several onlookers, eventually the trailer arrived at an acceptable location and we unloaded the panicked calves.
6. My relief turned to horror when I then learned I needed to do this again at another gate to re-load the calves. Only, this gate had even less room to navigate.
7. I felt like I had just courageously survived a blood draw and as I went to leave they added, “now go into the next room for your colonoscopy.”
8. Either word of my trailer infirmity had spread, or they had seen my first attempt because at the 2nd gate was a group of ranchers…and a teenage girl…who immediately joined together to carefully talk and guide me into a (somewhat) satisfactory job at the 2nd gate.
9. If they had mocked me when I climbed out I would have felt bad. If they had ignored me I would have felt self-conscious. If they laughed at me I think I could have laughed too. But what they did made me feel the absolute worse…they jubilantly congratulated me for having succeeded at what for others is a routine task.
10. And then, the teenage girl smiled at me and said, “It’s okay…I used to back up trailers like that too.” And I felt, really really pathetic.
1. I felt cared for that friends, who saw my FB cry for help, waited at calf weigh-in in the cold 2 hours so they could help me back up the trailer.
2. I also felt a little pathetic.
3. And when Kebrom whipped out his camera and asked if he could take pictures of my trying to back up the trailer, I felt more pathetic.
4. I did politely (and bravely) dismiss our friend’s kind offer to back it up for me and when my turn came confidently began the process…but from everyone’s panicked yelling (led by Geoffrey) I immediately recognized I was taking the absolutely incorrect angle.
5. Carefully heeding the advice and hand motions now being offered by several onlookers, eventually the trailer arrived at an acceptable location and we unloaded the panicked calves.
6. My relief turned to horror when I then learned I needed to do this again at another gate to re-load the calves. Only, this gate had even less room to navigate.
7. I felt like I had just courageously survived a blood draw and as I went to leave they added, “now go into the next room for your colonoscopy.”
8. Either word of my trailer infirmity had spread, or they had seen my first attempt because at the 2nd gate was a group of ranchers…and a teenage girl…who immediately joined together to carefully talk and guide me into a (somewhat) satisfactory job at the 2nd gate.
9. If they had mocked me when I climbed out I would have felt bad. If they had ignored me I would have felt self-conscious. If they laughed at me I think I could have laughed too. But what they did made me feel the absolute worse…they jubilantly congratulated me for having succeeded at what for others is a routine task.
10. And then, the teenage girl smiled at me and said, “It’s okay…I used to back up trailers like that too.” And I felt, really really pathetic.
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