WASHINGTON — After years of tending to the animals and making poorly programmed rounds at Spencer’s Radical Zoo, zookeepers have unionized and decided to bring forth their concerns with the zoo owners’ employment practices.
Below is a list of demands that employees have sent to the tycoon who keeps letting them get mauled by various zoo animals.
- Higher wages. We’ve been earning $800/month since 2001, which simply isn’t fair for a full-time job of raking animals’ poo, healing them when they’re sick, and making little green smiley bubbles float up from their heads every time we enter their cages.
- More staff to share the workload. For example, a single zookeeper is currently in charge of the chimpanzees, the elephants, the bison, the white rhinos, the black rhinos, the two male leopards, the empty exhibit where the last remaining grizzly bear died 18 months ago but you haven’t noticed, and the crocodiles. Given that each female animal gives birth once every ten minutes, the workload adds up.
- Stop giving us all silly names. Take Anthony and Denise, two outstanding zookeepers. They don’t appreciate that everyone here knows them as “Dr. Zoo-little” and “Zoo-zen Sarandon.” A little respect goes a long way. One of our comrades is forced to be called “Cum.” Just Cum. It’s ridiculous and juvenile.
- Increased diversity. Try hiring zookeepers who don’t share the exact same skin color, hair color, eye color, height, weight, disconcertingly robotic gait, and facial features.
- A permanent freeze on the inhumane practice of letting out all the animals to terrorize the guests, and then reverting back time to the point just before you let it happen. Do you think we can’t remember? Just because you’re some kind of timelord doesn’t mean we don’t all suddenly forget what we just saw go down between Lion 15 and the little boy with the cotton candy. At least hire an on-staff trauma psychologist, for Christ’s sake. Cum keeps getting torn apart by lions.
- Release the mermaid that you’re keeping inside of the zoo. She’s a person! At least half. Every day she sits on the single rock you gave her and sings her sad song of woe, of beautiful cities under the waves that she longs to return to. It’s honestly so fucked up.
- Build a restaurant that isn’t Mexican-themed. For the love of god, those enchiladas are really getting old.
