17 March 2011

I Hate Uniform Fitting, Image Class and being a Total Bitch

Somehow I have become the "Image" girl at Hooters.  This means that I am in charge of uniform fitting and image training all new hires at my Hooters.  I'm not really sure how this happened, but one day it just sort of became my job.  It started with fitting one girl and then another and suddenly it was just assumed that it was my job from then on out.  And as much as it's nice to be trusted with a level of responsibility, it's not a job I particularly care for.

While it might sound easy to get a girl her uniform, it's really anything but.  There is nothing comfortable or fun about looking another woman up and down and determining her size.  There you are, alone with a nervous new hire and the first thing that happens is you judge the shit out of her.  You take in the size of her ass and estimate her cup size.  You look her up and down and determine if she's small or smaller or even smaller.  It's pretty much awful for both of us.

Then of course I have to make sure that the all the uniform pieces I chose for her fit correctly.  She'll already feel uneasy putting the uniform on for the first time and I'm forced to make it even worse for her by making her do "the turn."  The turn is a complete 360 that is meant to ensure everything is fitting where it needs to be fitting. 

In addition to making sure she's wearing the uniform correctly, I get to make certain her bum isn't hanging out or her top isn't giving her the dreaded double boob.  Trust me, there are few things more uncomfortable than looking at a girl and telling her she needs bigger shorts because her cheeks are hanging out too much.  No girl ever wants to hear she needs a bigger size - especially not from some girl she just met in a Hooters uniform.

All of this has made me very, very good at uniform fitting because in a situation full of awkward moments I want to avoid as many as possible and get my shit right the first time.  Of course even my Hooters uniform expertise can't save me from Image Class.  Image Class is a three-hour, intensive orientation where each and every new hire learns anything and everything about being a Hooters Girl and maintaining the Hooters Girl look.  This has also become my job.

Image class is where I have to tell girls they are too tan or too white.  I have to tell them their makeup is too heavy or too subtle.  I critique how they do or do not do their hair.  I tell them about proper eating and discuss their exercise regimen.  I do all that and a million other little things that I hate doing.  Of course I have to do it all with just the right amount of "I'm cool" and "I'm a total bitch."  Don't get me wrong, like I said, I love that I was given the responsibility, it's just not in my nature to be so blunt with people.  It's really effing hard for me in fact.

Tomorrow I get the joy of teaching yet another Image Class after a day of working the bar.  It's going to take some psyching up and intense mental preparation.  I've got to get into gentle constructive criticism mode.  Someone pass the wine please.


  1. Image classes and recruiting safaris are the two things that people always find the most fascinating when I tell my Hooter's stories.

    The greatest line I was ever taught there was, "your dryer must run really hot because it has shrunk those shorts." Made it much easier to explain why a girl needed to go to a larger short size. That was always so awkward. Your managers are lucky to have someone like you to police that for them.

  2. Heh. Yeah, you have fun with that! I'm terrible at that sort of thing. The girls wind up either worshipping you or being terrified of you. Though, on second thought, maybe that's not so bad . . . of course that's from a *man's* perspective . . . It is good that your boss trusts you with this stuff, though.

  3. This is going to be a great transferrable skill for your resume some day.

    And, also, three hour class? I hope you're getting paid for this additional responsibility. A teacher cannot live on tips alone!

  4. I bet most guys wouldn't mind your job.



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