Cats don’t work. Why? You might think it’s because they’re cats, but it’s also question of attitude. They would just get fired. We present five scenarios in which cats would make the worst employees — but also the greatest ones, maybe?
The cat barista arrives to work at 6 a.m. to a line at the door. The first customer asks for a double caramel soy latte with a shot of vanilla and chocolate flakes. The cat barista just stares at him. “Okay, skip the vanilla,” the guy says. The cat barista continues to stare at him. “Fine, just a latte.” The cat barista doesn’t move. “Um, drip coffee?” The cat glances at the self-service coffee pot. The customer sighs.
Imagine it: A hand is raised on a busy street, and the cat cabbie slams on his brakes — a good three blocks away. The cat cabbie idles, watching the hand. The cab inches forward, one, two, three feet, then BLAM, the cat cabbie backs up 10 blocks, tires squealing. He waits, watching. Suddenly he hits the gas and circles around, barreling down side streets and alleys, and comes up behind the waving hand. The cat cabbie creeps up to the hand slowly, tires crunching over pebbles in the street. He waits. Just as the hand begins to lower in resignation, the cat cabbie floors it and runs over everybody on the sidewalk before blasting away in a flash. The cat cabbie looks for another fare.
The professional eater cat is seated on a stool and presented with 83 hot dogs on the Coney Island boardwalk. Kobayashi sits next to her. A bell rings. Kobayashi inhales 18 hot dogs in the first 29 seconds. The cat sniffs at a bun. She’s considering it. The clock is ticking. Kobayashi is at 53 dogs. The cat licks her paw and pays no attention to the hot dog whatsoever. The announcer announces that the cat has to eat all 83 dogs in the final 10 seconds to beat Kobayashi. She continues to lick her paw. Kobayashi wins. The crowd roars as the professional eater cat darts under the table.
It’s a simple job, really. The exam proctor cat just has to watch students take a test and not let them cheat. The cat sits on a desk and looks at the students. The test begins. The only sound is the light whisk whisk of pencils across paper and the pleasant crinkle crinkle of pages turning. The cat closes her eyes. The students look around. The students get up and meet in small groups. The test ends. The students file out as quietly as possible. The test proctor cat opens her eyes, yawns, and waits for the next class.
The cat begins her shift with a bowl of warm chicken. The last employee leaves, tells the cat to keep an eye on the Mona Lisa. The cat looks at the Mona Lisa for a long time, leans in, and nods. She turns abruptly from the painting and curls up to sleep in a chair under a MODERNISM THIS WAY sign. The Mona Lisa is gone by morning.
On Tuesday, the boss discovered that each and every fish, from the smoked tuna to the head-on trout to the great slabs of deep red ahi just in from Japan, had little round bites taken out of them, exactly the circumference of a cat’s mouth — just like the mouth of cat who was just hired yesterday for God’s sake. WHO HIRED THAT CAT? Nobody can remember hiring the cat but there he is, in the display case, with his mouth still attached to yellowtail, sleeping. He’s the worst hire the fish market ever made.
The casino pit boss cat doesn’t deal cards or catch cheats, but if you start stacking up a nice haul of chips, she will dart over from her post, plant herself on the table in front of you, reach out a paw, and methodically slide all of your chips onto your lap and all over the floor. The high rollers love her, but so does your aunt just in from Bakersfield with the girls. She won’t stop until the last chip is not on the table, from the simple stack of $2 throwaways to the Taj Mahal of a good blackjack run. The chips go off the table. She loves her job. She is paid nothing.
About Michael Leaverton: As a cat-owning writer who owns a cat, Michael has had a cat since he adopted a cat — a Bengal. The cat is sitting on him right now. Though she is the inspiration for every joke Michael has ever written on Catster, she doesn’t get any of them. Nor does she find anything funny, to be honest. A dog would find these jokes funny.