Overqualified

Benjamin Clawhauser had a tough time in Zootopia's job market. There was an idea that cheetahs were best suited for athletics, but not all cheetahs got to be athletes. Most of the ones that didn't found that their jobs were best suited for wait-staffing and delivery. Most sedentary jobs deprioritized cheetahs because they had earned a reputation for needing to be active. Normally this didn't bother them too much, since they would only apply to these jobs because they were the best available, and as soon as an active job opened again, they would try for those. Unless of course, your name was Benjamin Clawhauser, and you were actually interested in the desk jobs.

Finding a job had never been easy for Benjamin Clawhauser. While Zootopia prides itself on being a place where anyone can be anything, that doesn't actually stop them from making snap judgments. Many of them threw away his resume on sight because of his surname—even without knowing the specifics, a lot of people were suspicious that a predator applying for a tame position had ulterior motives. Even worse, many of the others who were open to predators unconsciously dismissed the idea of secretarial work being satisfactorily done by a 'Benjamin'. He was also terrible at exaggerating his good points and mitigating his weaknesses, which most employers expected to some degree, making his resume look less impressive to them than it actually was.

Occasionally he was lucky enough to get an interview. When this happened, they often didn't respond to him or said that he was a poor fit for the job. Mostly this was because they perceived him to be lazy and sloppy because of his weight, unprofessional because of his feminine and childlike demeanor, or untrustworthy or unreliable because he would fidget during the interviews.

And if, miraculously, the manager saw through all of that, which happened less than 10% of the time, he almost always heard the kiss of death: "We really liked you but we think you're overqualified for this position."

There were only a handful of times this didn't happen. Clawhauser's first job at a call center which he had to quit after six months because of the sheer number of people spuriously accusing him of attempting to scam them was one. His manager, who had appreciated his work, was displeased with his choice to leave, but said, "I suppose I'm not surprised."

Some time later he tried to work as an administrator for a company where the hiring manager was fairly relaxed about Clawhauser's unique personality, but unfortunately it did get under the skin of several coworkers, who reported how annoying he was to the main site manager, who then let him go.

Clawhauser was heartbroken, knowing that he would have to try the job market again. He saw that the ZPD was hiring a new front desk officer and said, "Nah, it's a total long shot." He sighed and walked away, then walked back and said, "Well… if I don't try it definitely won't happen."

So Benjamin Clawhauser applied for the job. And he got selected for the interview. And, from that interview, he got placed in as a temp. Then, several months later, he was hired permanently. Maybe it was just the fact that this was the best luck he's ever had with a manager, but Clawhauser thought his current boss, Chief Bogo, was extraordinarily fair-minded.

About six years later, Officer Judy Hopps was hired, and her first attempts at being a real cop were stifled by being assigned parking duty.

"I can't believe our boss, Clawhauser," she vented. "He thinks that just because I'm a bunny, I can't handle chasing criminals."

"Um, well, that doesn't sound likely," Clawhauser responded. "I mean he probably has a better reason for that like all of the more experienced cops being busy or…"

"Yeah, but I was the top of my class," she continued, "That should count for something."

"It got you to Precinct 1," Clawhauser said, trying to cheer her up. "Most rookies don't even make it here first, unless they're valedictorian."

"Oh, I know you mean well," Hopps said, "But I just can't help but think that the boss is kind of a bigot."

"He's not!" Clawhauser said, a little too forcefully.

"I mean, I don't want him to be either, but…" Hopps said, "I admire how certain you feel about this. Even if I think you're wrong."

Clawhauser felt sorry for Hopps but didn't know what to do. He went to Chief Bogo's office and asked, "Just curious, sir, is there any reason why you gave Hopps parking duty?"

"Why don't you take a guess?" Bogo asked.

"Umm… all the more experienced officers are too busy with the missing mammal cases to train her on anything more complicated right now?" Clawhauser asked.

"Got it in one," Bogo said, "Why did you even bother asking?"

"Just because… Hopps thinks… well," Clawhauser said, "That you're not being fair to her."

"Of course she does," Bogo said, "Just like every other arrogant newbie before her."

"Did you think I was an arrogant newbie?" Clawhauser asked.

"Of course not," Bogo responded. "It's why I love you so much." He quickly added, "Professionally speaking, of course."

"Of course," Clawhauser said, doing what he thought was a terrible job of hiding his disappointment, but Bogo didn't seem to notice. Clawhauser turned to leave the room when Bogo spoke again.

"It's not uncommon," Bogo said.

"What's not?" Clawhauser asked.

"People thinking I'm a bigot," Bogo said. "They mistake my characteristic bluntness for a personal insult. Or my skepticism for outright refusal to believe something is possible."

"Well if it makes you feel better," Clawhauser said, "I know for a fact you're not a bigot."

"How?" Bogo asked.

"Because you hired me," Clawhauser said, "And you kept me."

"Well of course I did, why wouldn't I? You're amazing. The kindest, most honest, most hard-working, most reliable employee I've ever had. I mean, yes, you do have that attentiveness issue, but what kind of boss would I be if I couldn't work around a disability?"

"That's different from how you are now?" Clawhauser asked, "Maybe a bigoted one." He paused briefly, then added, "You really think I'm amazing?"

"I think…" Bogo went to answer the question but found his heart rate needed to slow immediately. "We should get back to work.

"Okay, Chief," Clawhauser said, giggling as he left the room.

After the missing mammals had been found, Hopps noticed that Bogo's treatment of her completely changed, and that reminded her that she had some unfinished business to take care of. The very next day, she found Clawhauser. "Oh, there you are," she said.

"Oh, hey, Hopps, what's up?" Clawhauser asked.

"I'm sorry," Hopps said.

"Sorry for what?" Clawhauser asked.

"Sorry for… my judgment of Chief Bogo," she responded. "I could tell it really upset you."

"Oh, that's okay, Hopps," Clawhauser said, "He says he gets it a lot, though honestly I'm kinda the living counterevidence."

"What do you mean?" Hopps asked.

"I mean… I'm a fat, openly gay, feminine male with a cognitive disability, not to mention a cheetah who likes working a desk job," Clawhauser said, "It hasn't exactly been easy for me to find stable work in the past."

"Oh…" Hopps said.

"But hey," Clawhauser said, "That's all in the past now because Chief Bogo thinks I'm amazing!" He squealed loudly.

"Did he actually say that?" Hopps asked.

"Yeah," Clawhauser giggled.

"Good luck," she said.

"With what?" Clawhauser asked.

"Oh, nothing," Hopps said, "See you later."

Clawhauser sighed happily as he sat in his office chair—the first that he'd managed to keep for years. Thank you for giving me a chance, he thought to himself.