Day 3-Fast Ball Today I got a job at the City Zoo. I got a pretty good position as “African plains supervisor/Small group tour guide” by faking my age, place of birth, workplace history, and a list of qualifications on my resume. A hefty stack of index cards with interesting facts and terms sat on my lap during the interview, which went very well. My boss Mark told me I started immediately and that my first tour group would be arriving in two hours. Until then I was to check on the animals, and jot down notes and ideas about how we may better the presentation and safety of their replica environments. We shook hands as I stuffed my index cards into my pants and he told me “welcome to the team.” I was now a 28 year old from South Africa with a degree in Zoology and Environmental and Geographical Science from the University of Cape Town. I left Mark’s office, changed into my Zooniform and headed out to the plains. Passing the Penguin Pit, I stopped by the Information Kiosk and grabbed a park map and some pamphlets. I read about feeding times and the new baby Giraffe named Sox whose delivery, the pamphlet writers had quipped, was as perfect as Curt Shilling’s. I was imagining a baby Giraffe throwing a 90mph fastball when I felt a sharp pain on my ankle. I looked down and a kid was biting me. I shook him off my leg and he started running so I chased him into some bushes where he disappeared. I looked around and no one had seemed to notice so I checked my map and made toward the hyenas. After an hour and a half of drawing animal pictures and writing down observations like, “needs more tall grass”, and “cave is too shapely”, I went to meet my tour group at the front gate. I introduced myself as Retief Mbhali and a young boy asked me if the animals ever died. At this his father did a sort of fake chuckle and put a stiff hand on the boy’s shoulder who said “Ow!” I told him that yes, eventually everything dies. At this some of the older members of the group frowned and looked at each other so I said “Let’s go!” and began walking for the first exhibit. The tour lasted an hour, and despite the barrage of questions I made up the answers to, it went as well as I could have hoped. A few awkward things had happened that I worried about. At one point I became so overwhelmed that I left for a cigarette, asking the group to please observe the way the meerkats interact in their self made tunnel-homes while I run to the bathroom quick. When I came back I heard a little girl tell her mom that I smelled like Grammy’s house and an elderly woman mumbled to her husband something like “how much are we paying for this guy?” I recovered, bringing up our new baby giraffe, Sox, whom we’d be visiting for feeding time as the last part of the tour. The little girl said the words baby, giraffe, and sox in a simultaneous burst of excitement, and started dancing around until her mother calmed her down. We got to Sox’s artificial environment just as the zookeeper was beginning the feeding, and everybody was awing and pointing except for a chubby kid fixated on his Sony PSP. Out of the kid’s range, I made a joke to his parents about how those PSP’s are as addicting as PCP for kids, and they didn’t think that was very funny so I pointed and said, “Look, aw, he’s eating it.” Back at the Zoo entrance I thanked everyone for being a great group in my fake South African accent, and received 80 dollars in tips, and a phone number from one of the women who seemed way too interested at the lion cages when I explained how they sometimes devoured their own young. I felt revitalized; born again. I’d made more money in a day than I had in the past month. Not only that, I thought to myself, but some of those people really enjoyed themselves out there. None of the kids even cried! I thought at least one would cry. One always cries. I shook my head in wonderment, counting my tips when the PA came on from a speaker on a post next to some monkey cages. “Retief Mbhali to the main office…Retief…Mbhali.” In Mark’s office he told me that the University of Cape Town had never heard of a Retief Mbhali. He then told me that not only was I fired but that I was banned from his Zoo for life. He asked me how old I was and I said 19 and he said Jesus Christ and pointed to the door and said, “Out.” I started to tell him how well the tour went and he said “OutOutOut,” and I went out. I returned my Zooniform to a guy who told me I had a lot of nerve. I went home and went to bed and had a dream about a baby giraffe throwing a 90mph fast ball.