Article & Photographs by Sarah Thomann
Most of us have a complicated relationship with the show office. We go in when we have to, hand over our paperwork, try not to take too long. We don’t think much about what happens in there between our visits, or who’s managing the twelve other things that keep a horse show running while we’re focused on our own class. Sarah Thomann thinks about all of it, because it’s her job to. Here’s what her Saturday actually looks like.
4:30 AM
The alarm goes off. I peel myself out of bed and start running through the day’s schedule before my feet hit the floor. I’m a horse show secretary, and it’s Saturday, which means we’re going to be busy.
6:30 AM
The office door unlocks and trainers trickle in with their students, ready to change classes or drop off missing paperwork. I do a few add/scratches, pull out a grounds map and start highlighting the trailer parking area for those who have parking questions.
Then a frantic mom sits down across from me. Her trainer sent her in. She’s never been to a horse show before, but her daughter is thrilled to be here with their new pony. She’s got a list of questions and she’s not sure I can help with any of them. I give her my warmest smile for this hour of the morning and ask to see the list. I tell her not to panic. We’ll get through every single one in time for her to cheer her daughter on at the ring. The relief is immediate. She says she was warned about the office, but we seem so nice! I tell her what I tell everyone: the office is a safe space for questions, and we want people to come in and see us.
8:00 AM
The rings have officially started and the morning rush dies down. I check my basket: 20 add/scratches, re-spun the order for a stakes class I need to run out to the ring, two state membership applications to file, and a new horse entered in the system. I grab my sunglasses, the staple gun I keep in my desk for exactly these situations, and head out the door.
8:45 AM
I’m still out of the office. I’ve been stopped by two clients with class rule questions, a steward whose radio might be dead, and an ingate crew that needs help sorting ribbons for the derby. Somewhere in the middle of all that, I run into the pony mom from 6:30; her daughter won her class. She was able to answer every question the trainer threw at her. I congratulate them both and keep moving.
9:30 AM
Our first early checkout of the day. Did you know you can close out before you’ve finished showing so you don’t get stuck in the Sunday rush? As long as your trainer has done their splits for the week, we’re happy to help. A trainer sits down with about ten minutes of her hectic day to spare. I start pulling her entries while she flips through her binder of checks and credit card numbers her clients left for this exact reason. We review statements together, sort out who owes what, flag a prize money winner who needs a W-9 on file, and I get her out the door in eight minutes. A whole barn just got a stress-free weekend.
11:30 AM
I’m about to grab lunch when a call comes over the radio. The jumper ring judge doesn’t have a lunch form on his clipboard. I’m in the clipboard room before I’ve finished processing the sentence, keys in hand, yelling something along the lines of “I’m heading into the outside world” as I run out the door. I drop the form with the kitchen, then get a call on my cell: Hunter 2 needs cards for the medal–everyone wants to know how they placed. I head over. The judge is in the middle of a flat phase, so I stand quietly in the corner until he’s done. He radios the announcer with scores and hands me a stack of cardstock. It’s an exchange we both know well. No words needed, just a clean handoff.
12:00 PM
Back in the office, I’m inputting the medal results that everyone is waiting for when someone appears in front of my desk. Their horse’s membership isn’t listed correctly. This is one of those database tangles that’s gotten more common since USEF and USHJA split their systems. Exhibitors used to handle everything in one place, and now there’s an extra step that’s easy to miss. I walk them through it, make sure their points will count, and send them on their way. It takes two minutes, but it’s the kind of thing that can make or break your name getting on a list for indoors.
2:00 PM
The jumper stake is about to start. The rider count has gone up to thirty entries. I pull up the live feed at my desk so I can time when to head out for the presentation. Then we get slammed with early checkouts and the feed becomes background noise as I answer constant questions. I glance at the clock, grab the radio: “Have you started the jump off yet?” Rider three of five is on course. Sunglasses. Keys. Out the door.
3:00 PM
I help the ingate pack up after the ribbon presentation, collect cards from the judge, and joke with the riders about how much better their cocktail is going to taste tonight. A rider asks to see the breakdown from their round. They think their score was higher than announced. I let them know I’ll need to get the steward involved so the judge can walk them through it. The results are like a top-secret file not everyone has clearance for. Yes, anyone can log in and find the results of the class but if you really want to see a points breakdown it’s not that simple. The rider assures me they want to see the breakdown, I ask for a steward to meet us at the office, they take over once they get there and assist the rider with their questions. Getting answers is never a problem if you ask.
4:30 PM
A group of kids in jodhpurs and bows bounces over to my desk. “Do you have any more saddle pads or fidget spinners for prizes?” They’re holding up their ribbons from earlier. I congratulate every single one of them and their ponies, then slip into the ribbon room to find the best prizes we’ve got. This is the part of the job I love that not many people get to see. These kids are thrilled to be here! They want to shower their ponies with mints from the vendor shops, but they’re just as excited about being able to say “look what I won.” I restock the prize shelf while I’m in there and look out the window on my way back. The kids are showing off their prizes to their trainers and families, hugging their ponies, beaming. Not a care in the world. The horse show bug has been planted. I’ve just watched another lifelong rider get made.
5:00 PM
A rider comes in. They’ve lost their back number. Vanished off their tack trunk, but they still have to show tomorrow. I grab our set of unclaimed numbers—someone scratched, someone entered the wrong week, a horse sold before it shipped in—and start one of my favorite side projects: arts and crafts. I cut and rearrange digits to match what the rider was originally assigned, then staple them together. A little trick we do: edges facing outward so they won’t catch on your show coat!
6:00 PM
I’m getting to my car after another Saturday. I think about the people who walked in nervous and walked out confident. The pony mom. The rider who didn’t know the cross-entry rule. The kids who just wanted to show off their ribbons.
The show office isn’t there to intimidate anyone. It’s the most helpful place on the grounds, and it costs nothing to be the person who makes it feel that way. So next time you’re at a show, stop in and say hi to your secretary. It might just change how you experience yours.
SARAH THOMANN grew up just 5 minutes down the road from HITS Saugerties where she watched her first Grand Prix and decided horses would always be a part of her life. She went on to attend Alfred University where she earned her Bachelor of Arts in Communications. When she’s not writing articles you can usually find her at the barn riding, working on her tack business and spending time with her cats and dog.
