When I finally talked with a live person, who of course, wasn’t the person that I needed to talk with, I was told that I couldn’t possibly do what I was asking. I nicely said that I was sure I could, but their website didn’t offer me the necessary information. I was put on hold while they talked with a supervisor. Six minutes later, I was transferred to a different department, who again told me that I had hit a dead end. When I asked to speak with a supervisor, I was put on hold again. Finally, I was transferred to the sales department (this for a site that is four-years-old). Yet another “can’t do that.”

I again pressed the point, and was transferred finally to someone who really knew her stuff. She was great, knew exactly what I was asking, and told me how to get it done. She apologized for the long wait.

I was impressed with the woman’s competence and attitude, though my confidence in the company had been somewhat undermined. Had I hung up before speaking with the last woman, there’s no way that I would use that web-host company, never mind refer a friend.

Trust is sometimes given freely, and sometimes hard earned. But it doesn’t take much to shake it, whether in our business, our family, friends, or with our horses.

It’s obvious that we undermine our efforts when jerk the reins after trying to get our horse to trust our hands. But it’s not so obvious that we’re undermining trust when we ask our horse for the umpteenth time to do a particular maneuver. He may start out not knowing exactly what we want. When he gets it, we’re happy. But then sometimes we drill so long that he wonders if it’s the right answer after all. So he tries something else. Then we get angry, accusing him of an attitude problem. When we scold him, we break trust, and we teach him to quit trying.

What if, instead of merely frustrating me on the phone, that company had a message at three minutes that apologized for the wait, and told me it would be another 30-plus minutes on hold but reassured me they wouldn’t drop my call? What if they offered to let me leave my number and they’d call me back?  Those messages would have been like carrots, telling me that I was on the right track, continuing my confidence. Instead, I held on only because I didn’t have any other option, but I wasn’t happy about it.

Each time we ride, we have opportunities to frustrate our horse or to give him the equivalent of a carrot. What if, when schooling your horse, you give him a little break after he does something right?  You ask for a left-lead canter, and when he gives it to you, only have him canter six or seven strides before softly letting him come back to a relaxed walk. You didn’t make him canter so long that you had to kick him to keep him going. Next time you ask for the canter, he may think, “That isn’t such a tough request.”

Lately, I’ve become more impressed than ever that a little encouragement at the right time is worth a whole bunch, and that trust is fragile. Have a good week, and don’t forget to treat someone with a carrot.