I should clarify first, this person was never directly responsible for my horses, but I was responsible for hers:
You are out of feed.
You are out of hay.
Please don’t steal my shavings.
Please don’t steal my feed.
Please don’t steal my hay.
Please don’t steal my stuff.
I put my name on things because my stuff was disappearing.
My tack room is locked because my stuff was disappearing.
My feed room is locked because my feed was disappearing.
Please don’t get drunk and run around the arena when we have novice riders and green horses working.
Please put clothes on when we have clients or lessons kids coming. At least a shirt over your ill-fitting string bikini top.
Please tell your boyfriend not to be disassembling rotting metal sheds adjacent to the arena when I’m showing YOUR horses to clients.
It doesn’t matter that you didn’t know whose x that was, you knew it wasn’t yours.
Please stop telling people you run a rescue.
Please feed your horses.
Please clean your stalls.
Please repair the fences.
Please go get your own horses when they escape and run amuck down the road or on the golf course, those are our landlords.
Please go get your own horse unstuck from the toppled metal gate. She is old and I’m in Florida.
Please geld your four stallions.
Please neuter your animals.
Please don’t glue the ripped off eyelid back on the horse with gorilla glue. And wait a week to call a vet.
I could go on and on and on and on. And this is just one barn.