Sauce, not Sauce

"SAUCE"

"Sauce"

"Saucity, saucy, sauce."

I don't know how it took over two effing years for this to dawn on me, but it's really inconvenient to have the nickname "Sauce" at Hooters.  I mean sauce of some kind appears or can appear on almost every menu item.  Now as you can probably imagine this leads to an awful lot of sauce discussions both in the kitchen and on the floor.  None of which involve me.

So there I'll be walking by someone doing something of importance and suddenly I'll hear "Sauce."  Sometimes I'm smart enough to realize they're just talking about the deliciousness of spicy garlic sauce, but then there are the times I'm so enthralled in restocking paper towels that I automatically think that they are talking to me.  After all, I am pretty much the most important person ever.  Then I'll invariably find myself in some marginally awkward situation where I've interrupted a conversation that has absolutely nothing to do with me.

HG:  "So our hot sauce is actually more to the medium side of the heat scale."

Sauce:   "You needed me?"

HG:  "Um, what?  No."

This is generally followed by awkward staring from both the Hooters Girl and the customer as I attempt to back away from the table as casually as possible.  I imagine that this is the point where the girl tries to explain that I have the most confusing name in the world and that Sauce is my nickname.  Or they just pretend I wasn't weird and move on to breaded or naked.

This is probably more common with the kitchen.  You see the kitchen calls for "Sauce" when my food is done.  So of course I'll hear sauce and find my way to the sell window expecting to pick up a delicious fried delicacy.

Sauce:  "So where's my food?"

Cook:  "Um, what food?"

Sauce:  "The food you called for when you called my name which you didn't really call did you."

As my trailing ramble progresses I am invariably met with blank stares that I can only imagine confirm how strange I really am.  Again I back away and pretend I didn't just look like a creep.

Note to self:  The whole world is in fact NOT talking about you all the time.  Only most of the time of course.