The Yorkshiremen and the Office Chair

There was a political cartoon that I remember from the 2008 presidential campaign, during the primaries.  I tried to find it, but couldn't.  It featured stylized versions of the three Democratic frontrunners at the time - Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, and John Edwards - sitting on a dilapidated porch and dressed in shabby clothes, trying to one up each other with stories about how poor they were growing up.  "When I was little, we could only ever afford a shot of moonshine for dinner."  "A shot?  You guys could afford a whole shot?" 

Years later, I saw Monty Python's "The Four Yorkshiremen" sketch and it reminded me of that cartoon.  It also vaguely reminded me of something else, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

Then I read this article and remembered.  It was the zoo.  Or at least, the non-animal portions of it.

Your Crappy Chair Is Not a Badge of Honor

There is never a lot of money in wildlife conservation, or most nonprofits, really.  We make do with things on a shoestring, and try to devote as many of our resources as possible to go towards a) our animals and their facilities and b) in situ conservation.  As far as many of us are concerned, the rest of the place can fall apart as long as the animals are okay.

I was fine with that mindset for a longtime.  When office staff would complain about conditions in our office building, I'd scoff (to myself... because I was slightly terrified of them poisoning the coffee).  Sure, it would be "nice" to have money for a better AC unit, or chairs that didn't cause severe joint issues, or a floor with more tiles and fewer holes.  But if we had the money for that, I for one would rather have put it towards more enrichment objects.  An expansion of some of our exhibits.  Better filters for some of our aquatic exhibits.  You know... animals first.

This article has made me reconsider that.  Maybe holding the rest of the zoo together with duct tape, zip ties, and hope isn't the solution.  It can make our facilities seem sketchy, unprofessional, and unreliable.  If you work in a conventional office and would like to help, perhaps consider donating your (gently) used items to your local zoo - or any other nonprofit in the area - when you get replacements.  It'll keep it out of the landfill, and will be greatly appreciated by others.

This article has also made me think upon a subject which has been bothering me for some time... staff salaries.  I consider myself fairly decently paid (though many of my former college classmates would probably drink hemlock if they had to survive on what I may compared to what they make now), but salaries for entry level keepers at many zoos can be brutal.  All too often, keepers treat this as a badge of honor, especially those who have since gone on to earn a little more and look back with fondness at "the good all days," viewing newer keepers as whiners who are idiots for suggesting that maybe they should be able to afford rent AND food.

Saving species, both in the zoo and in the field, isn't something we dabble in.  It's our profession.  And if we don't view ourselves as professionals and act accordingly, how can we expect anyone else to treat us as such?

We don't need to blow our budgets, and we certainly don't need to start using dollar bills as toilet paper, but we can stop fetishizing our frugality and taking pride in our lousy working conditions.  It's okay to want better.