I couldn't have done something simple for a job, could I? I could have been a carpenter, or an accountant, anything other than my current job. Paperwork or planks of wood didn't explode, or shoot ice out their mouths.
No, I knew I was being unfair, the voltorb wasn't usually a bother. As long as his ramps were moved around every few days to change the look of his enclosure, he was usually pretty happy.
The slowpoke, too, was pretty easy to deal with, she just needed a bit of grass, some bushes, a sunny rock, and a pool to fish in. There wasn't anything in it to catch, but, as long as she could stick her tail in it, she was happy.
The real problem pokemon were the lapras, the chansey, and the kangaskhan. They weren't hungry, or agitated, or even bored. They were just used to more room than our tiny little zoo could provide.
The chansey would usually climb over his fence, with surprisingly little effort for all his bulk. He didn't mean to damage anything, but he was heavy, and his fence wasn't really built to support his weight. We were constantly doing minor repair jobs somewhere on his fence.
The kangaskhan didn't go over her fence, nor break through it, though she was certainly strong enough. Like many of the more intelligent pokemon, she had figured out how to open the lock on her gate. Normally that wouldn't be a problem, you just slap a combination lock on the gate and then they can't get out. The issue with her was that she already had a combination lock. The combination was 45-29-5-16, in case you were wondering.
The lapras didn't technically break anything during her escapes, instead, she coated everything with a thick layer of ice and just slid over it. We had no idea how she managed to slide uphill when she doesn't have any claws or even fingers, just her flippers. We've watched recordings of her actual escapes from the security cameras, and we've still no idea how she's been doing it.
The worst part about it was that they used to do it in the middle of the day, when there were kids and elderly in the way. The pokemon just assumed that the people would move out their way. In hindsight, it was probably a miracle that no one got hurt.
They weren't even doing it maliciously, they just wanted to wander around and socialize with each other.
Eventually, I got permission to do something about the pokemon's refusal to understand the idea of a fence. My plan was, essentially, to compromise.
After weeks of careful bribing, and a kadabra to translate, I managed to convince them only to wander around at night, when there are no guests around, and to return to their pens by the time the morning staff arrived.
After those few weeks I managed to reduce the number of "situations" from one or two a day, to less than once a week. What's more, when they did escape during the day, they went back to their pens with a lot less fuss.
Next, I heavily reinforced a section of the chansey's fence so that it was strong enough to support his weight. After another week of explanations and bribery, I convinced him to use that section of fence, and only that section of fence, to climb out.
The next part of my plan is the expensive part.
I want to replace all the wooden fencing with aluminium, starting with the lapras' pen, so that when she buries everything in ice, we can get a fire pokemon to quickly melt it all without setting the fences on fire.
The Board of Directors know that my methods work, so I honestly have no idea why they are dragging their feet over this.
Take last night, for example.
Last night, according to the security cameras, the lapras left her pen to go float in the slowpoke's pool, though it's sufficiently shallow that she was half sitting on the bottom, and covered her own fence, the slowpoke's fence, and a fair amount of path with ice. Later, the kangaskhan went to join the lapras, and stayed with them for most of the night.
The chansey also hopped his fence as soon as the staff left, and spent the night wandering around the zoo. Around midnight, he went to the new kabuto exhibit, picked the kabuto out of his tank, and carried it around for the remainder of the night.
At around five in the morning, an hour before the first staff member usually arrived, they all started heading back to their pens.
By the time the staff had started breakfast rounds, everyone was back where they should be, except for the slowpoke who had still been sitting on the lapras' back when she headed home. The pokemon had been able to fulfill their need to be social, no guest had been scared out their wits, and no one was threatening legal action.
We then had to remove massive amounts of ice, which took far too long, and we had to open over an hour late.
If we had metal fences and a fire pokemon, then the hardest part of the morning rounds would have been to convince the lapras to leave her pond, so that we could return the slowpoke to its own pen. Considering how friendly our lapras is, that would mean that the hardest part of the morning would have taken all of five minutes, instead of three hours.
On days when the lapras has iced everything over, and the voltorb has exploded, sometimes we don't open until noon! That isn't sustainable! How can we get a larger customer base when our operating hours aren't even reliable?
Metal fences. Quicker ice removal. Consistent opening hours. More guests. More money. Where's the complicated part?!