I never thought I’d live to see the day when produce formed a union. But here we are. Avocados, the green creamy darlings of brunch culture, have had enough. After decades of being smashed, sprinkled with chilli flakes, and posted on Instagram without credit, they’re rising up. They’ve unionised. And they want royalties.
According to an emergency press release I definitely didn’t hallucinate while waiting for my overpriced oat flat white, the Avocado Labour Front (ALF) is now officially recognised. The union’s goal? “To secure fair compensation, workplace respect, and dignified treatment for all avocados who are spread thin—literally and emotionally—on human toast.”
This isn’t just about guacamole anymore. It’s a full-blown fruit rebellion.
The Final Straw (Or Pit)
Avocados claim the tipping point came during a bottomless brunch event in Cape Town where over 300 slices of sourdough were aggressively smothered with their kin, garnished with feta, poached eggs, and—most insultingly—microgreens. One avocado, who chose to remain anonymous (but identified as Hass), said, “We were harvested before we were emotionally ripe. Then force-ripened in a paper bag next to a banana. It was traumatic.”
Following the incident, a secret gathering was held in a Whole Foods backroom, where a council of avocados from around the globe came together to form the union. Key members include:
- Hass-tor the Ripe, union spokesperson
- Guacavelli, head of legal affairs
- Eve, the original influencer of forbidden fruit
They released a collective statement: “We’ve been fetishised, overexposed, and commodified. We demand compensation, creative credit, and an end to all ironic millennial jokes.”
What They Want
The ALF has submitted the following demands:
- 10% royalty on all avocado toast served globally. Yes, even the one you made at home with that sad little lemon wedge.
- Creative attribution on Instagram. Every post must tag the avocado’s country of origin and include #SourcedWithConsent.
- A mental health initiative. Avocados argue the constant pressure to ripen just right has caused anxiety, pit trauma, and existential dread.
- A ‘no smushing without asking’ clause. Self-explanatory, really.
- Safer working conditions. Namely, a ban on violent stabbing during pit removal. Too many have perished due to amateur brunch chefs with slippery hands.
Reactions From the Public
The news sent shockwaves through the brunching community. Influencers were seen weeping into their chia puddings. Cafés reported a sudden spike in banana bread sales as avocado toast vanished from menus, replaced with signs that read, “In Solidarity with the Avocado Uprising.”
“I can’t believe this,” said local food blogger @ToastWithTheMost. “I’ve built my brand around avo toast. What am I supposed to do now? Eat margarine like a peasant?”
Meanwhile, Gen Z has responded with overwhelming support, already designing protest T-shirts reading “Smash the System, Not the Fruit.”
The Economic Fallout
Without avocados on brunch menus, the economy is… wobbly. Stock in millennial cafés has dropped 23%. Sourdough sales are collapsing. And Australian real estate agents have reported a temporary halt in property sales—possibly unrelated, but still suspicious.
Even Big Spoon (the cutlery conglomerate) released a statement: “Without avocado toast, there is no need for artisanal teaspoons. We’re entering uncertain times.”
A Brief History of Avocado Exploitation
Let’s not forget, avocados have been through a lot. Once dismissed as “alligator pears,” they rose to fame as the sexy superfood of the wellness world. Now, they’re in everything—smoothies, salads, chocolate mousse, and Tinder bios.
But at what cost?
- In 2015, avocados were blamed for millennial financial ruin.
- In 2017, they were used in beauty masks without consent.
- By 2019, they were being turned into ice cream. That’s not just culinary overreach—it’s a hate crime.
“They used to call us exotic,” sniffed one avocado from Mexico. “Now they just call us ‘extra’ and charge R35.”
Celebrity Endorsements Roll In
Naturally, celebrities have weighed in. Joaquin Phoenix offered to narrate the upcoming documentary “Avocados: Ripe for Justice.” Gwyneth Paltrow has launched a Goop candle titled “Smashed with Dignity.” And Harry Styles has been seen cradling a ripe avo with tears in his eyes.
Even Peppa Pig has allegedly pulled avocado references from her upcoming season to avoid backlash. It’s that serious.
A Response From the Toast Community
Not one to be sidelined, Toast has formed a counter-coalition. A representative slice (sourdough, lightly burnt) stated:
“We’ve been carrying avocados for years—literally. And this is how they repay us? By calling us ‘bland beige platforms’? Outrageous. We have butter trauma. We deserve our own documentary.”
Tensions are rising.
What Now?
For now, cafés are being urged to honour the avocado boycott. Alternative toppings like hummus, beetroot pâté, and “pea guac” are being trialled. The results are mixed. One customer described pea guac as “betrayal in a bowl.”
But the avocados aren’t backing down. They’re prepared. They’ve unionised. And they’ve got pits.
Final Thoughts
We always knew avocados were extra. But now they’re organised, radicalised, and done with our brunch habits. And honestly? Maybe they deserve it. Maybe it’s time we give credit where it’s due. Maybe… just maybe… we say thank you for the good times and give them the respect (and royalties) they’ve so richly earned.
So next time you reach for that ripe green fruit, think twice. Ask permission. Maybe whisper a thank you. And if you hear a tiny voice say, “Where’s my cut?”—it’s not your imagination.
It’s the union.
