$1.55

So this happened today...

That's a cool $1.55 tip on a $28.45 tab.  A tab which was paid for with a credit card.  This would be a good time to notice the overly dramatic cross through the zero on that credit card receipt.  Perhaps the best part though is how obviously all that changed is laid out so I could immediately note this incredibly generosity.  Just imagine all the time that saved me in counting.

The worst part - yes there is a part worse than simple shittiness of the tip - I was training today.  This means that I know I was on point because I was dragging a trainee around and teaching her to be totally awesome.  A Hooters Girl with a trainee is pretty much a sure sign that your service is going to be utterly perfect.  It's almost a sign as sure as how much these people stink.

Oh and if you're curious about the orange things, those are casino dollars.  Yes, my Hooters has a little casino and that monopoly money is worth a free dollar.  I kindly gave them that because they seemed like cool people.  Losers.

A Guide to Tipping at Hooters (Repost)

Given all the talk about tipping in post comments, emails and Facebook posts, I've decided it might be a good time to repost my in-no-way-expert guide to tipping at Hooters that I wrote way back in the infancy of this blog.  It seems that there are quite a few people that don't exactly know how to tip at Hooters.  Given this question - which in itself implies there may be some difference between Hooters and other restaurants - I compiled a few tipping guidelines.  Please note that tipping is completely up to individual discretion and this in no way reflects what one "should" tip at Hooters.  This is just one way of addressing a somewhat common dilemma.

I'm really not that type of girl.

Tipping at Hooters depends on several factors and – in my opinion – has major differences that separate it from general restaurant tipping.  Following, you find a few guidelines that I believe should be considered when deciding what to tip your Hooters Girl.  Please note that this is not what Hooters Girls expect to be tipped, as tipping is based on individual preferences, but simply one way of looking at the Hooters tipping debate and how I would personally tip at Hooters.

1.  First and foremost a tip at Hooters, or elsewhere, should mainly be dependent on food service.  While Hooters is known for a specific brand of entertainment, it is most importantly a restaurant.  As such, your initial tip should be strictly based on service, as it would be anytime you dine.  Were you seated promptly?  Were your drinks and entrée orders taken efficiently and delivered how you ordered them?  Were your needs anticipated and met before you had to ask?  Etc.

What you tip based on service is largely up to each individual.  Generally a restaurant tip is between 15-20%, varying according to service.  So basically for the initial tip, tip like you would at Applebee’s, Red Robin, or wherever.

2.  After your service-based tip, you should note the other elements that make Hooters, Hooters to supplement your tip.  Specifically, I am refereeing to the entertainment each and every Hooters Girl should provide her guests.  Did your Hooters Girl play a game with you?  Did she dance or sing?  Did she hula hoop and pour your beer?  Did she provide you with signature service?  Basically, what did your Hooters Girl do to go above and beyond basic restaurant service to give you Hooters service?

Once again, the amount of this supplemental tip is based on individual preferences.  As the food service is primary, this shouldn’t be expected to be as large as the first part of the tip (unless you deem it appropriate).  I would personally suggest between 5-15%.

3.  There are several other things to take into account when tipping at ANY restaurant.  First, does your state pay servers minimum wage or do they have a special restaurant pay rate?  In states in which servers make, say, $2.14 your tip will be supplementing their wage and this should be acknowledged.  Also, most servers will be required to “tip out” other employees within the restaurant.  For example, I personally tip out at least three people every shift: hostess, bartender, and dishwasher.  Our system requires I tip them at least 1% of my sales each, but on busier nights I typically will personally tip them more.  Remember, you’re not just tipping your server, but many varied employees who also made your dining experience possible.

As stated originally, these are not strict guidelines, but one way of tipping at Hooters.  Most important to note is that a tip should never be expected but is rather earned.  Feel confident tipping an amount you deem appropriate as long as it reflects the level of service you received.

Hooters Tipping Around the World

Recently, a conversation developed over on my Facebook page that I thought deserved a little closer examination. Basically, what it came down to was one of my German fans saying that though tipping is not the norm in Germany it is still expected at Hooters. Here’s what he said:

Tips are very low here. You can read on every bill that Hooters Girls are tip motivated :( Some people won't understand this as in Germany tips are included in all other restaurants...This concept is really poor.

How can you say no when she's being so polite?

This was an interesting to point to me. As I understand it, though Germany – along with most of Europe – includes tips in their prices (therefore making tipping unnecessary), Hooters doesn’t follow this system. Being that my family is from the Netherlands and I’ve spent quite a bit of time there, I am familiar with the fact that people don’t tip. In fact tipping can be seen as rude to some people. Or at least the surest sign of a tourist.

Now let me make it clear that I think this system works. I also think that our American system of tipping works as well. In the end, I don’t care what the system is as long as the server is getting properly compensated. And that is where the system at the German Hooters totally falls apart.

While it’s nice of the German Hooters to put a reminder on the bottom of each check that “Hooters Girls are tip motivated,” it doesn’t seem like a very effective plan. I mean if I lived somewhere where I never tipped, a subtle note like that isn’t going to tell me that this one place is somehow different. And even if it did put the idea of leaving a tip in my head I still probably wouldn’t assuming that like every other restaurant my tip had been paid as soon as I plopped down the dough for my wings.

My question is why? Why is that Hooters gets to make it’s own rules and confuse the shit of everyone in a country that does things a different way? After all I see nothing wrong with spreading American foods to other cultures – the Dutch love KFC just as much as I love their pannenkoeken so I suppose it’s only fair. What I do see a problem with is trying to be so American that you end up screwing your own employees out of proper reimbursement for all the hard work they do for you. It sounds like a great way to make money that (sort of) gets the business off the hook. That I don’t like at all.

So this makes me curious. Are other international Hooters the same way? Do they all run on a tip system even if traditional tipping isn’t culturally the norm?  And of course what are your thoughts? Lets have a little healthy discussion, friends.

Don’t forget to become a fan on Facebook! Maybe you’ll inspire me next post!

Portlandia

I'm going to a magical place called Portland for the weekend.  I will now provide you with a video.

If you're from Portland and you've seen this, you rock.  If you're from Portland and you haven't seen this, you're welcome.  If you're not from Portland at all, jealousy is totally acceptable.



Where young people go to retire!

We Have Paper Towels

How kind of you to ask, creepy-mouthed towel roll

If you’ve been to Hooters before, you’re probably familiar with the fact that we conveniently place a big roll of paper towels on every table.  Being that pretty much every menu item does or can come with sauce those paper towels are very, very necessary.  It’d just be evil of us not to have them there for our guests.

Of course we sometimes don’t make it easy to find them.  By this I mean that they sort of hide behind the menus in the caddies.  Really not hidden at all.  Since the world is self-involved and unobservant, I always make a point of referring to the placement of the paper towels just to cover my bases.  Or, if they’re at a table where I can access the paper towels, I’ll actually turn the whole caddy around obviously positioning them for easy access.

It goes a little something like this:  As I’m placing the set-ups on the table (as many Hooters goers will know, we have no place settings on the tables before hand), which involves some creative, overachieving folding on my part, I gesture to the paper towels.

Sauce:  “And just so you know there is a whole roll of paper towels behind the menus just in case you run into big messes.  We like you to be prepared.”  I always through in some cute statement.  How Hooters of me!

If that doesn’t make the location of the damn towels clear I don’t know what does.  Even with that obvious warning, all too often the food will come out and people will be left thinking I’m a total bitch who only left them with one paper towel.  This is probably because – yes, even at Hooters – as a server I totally blend into the wood paneled walls.  After all I’m just a waitress and as such say nothing of consequence or real meaning.  Doing that would imply intelligence.

Perhaps next time I’ll put a strobe light on top of the towels with a sign that says, “plenty o’ towels for your dirty face.”  That way if you don’t notice the towels and turn the strobe light off you’ll risk a seizure.  Or I could take that nice soft roll of industrial style paper towels and bop you over the head with it.  But then again you probably wouldn’t notice that either.

Hey was the light fixture just talking?

What Would Hooters Do?

One of the many reasons I love Hooters is the diversity of our clientele.  You can walk into Hooters any given day and you’ll see businessmen, older couples, families, first dates, high school kids, lady’s night celebrations and pretty much anything else that comes to mind.  In fact not much surprises me anymore as far as guests go.  I’ve pretty much seen it all.

Given my rather jaded point of view, I was incredibly surprised to find out the profession of two seemingly normal guests I see every few weeks.  Now outwardly there is nothing out of sorts about these two gentlemen.  Both are middle aged and stop into Hooters on their way to working on a lakeside cabin one of them owns. 

Originally I thought the only off thing about them is that one is a vegetarian.  For the record I have nothing against vegetarians.  It’s just that Hooters isn’t particularly vegetarian friendly.  So I made it my mission to use our menu to create innovative vegetarian options – a somewhat difficult and impressive feat.  That’s how they became my regulars.  Because I gave a shit.

I'm guessing this is pretty much entirely accurate.

Anyway, in the process of me creating some of the coolest regulars I know, I found out that these seemingly normal Hooters regulars are really anything but.  You see these Hooters lovers are in fact Episcopal priests – if we’re getting specific one is actually retired.  Yes, you read that correctly.  I have two regulars who spread the word of God.  If anyone ever had a question of Hooters appropriateness it has officially been answered.  God is on Hooters’ side.

Perhaps even more awesome than their vocations, is the fact that they are totally unabashed by how much they truly enjoy Hooters.  In fact last time they were in, one kindly asked if he could purchase a stack of our to-go cups.

Retired Awesome Priest:  “Do you think you could possibly sell me a sleeve of your to-go cups?”

Sauce:  “Of course!  Having a picnic?”

Retired Awesome Priest:  “Actually yes, I’d love to have some for our next church potluck.”

Sauce:  “I love that!  What do you think the reaction will be?”

Still Priesting Awesome Priest:  “Well that’s the beauty I think.”

Retired Awesome Priest:  “Right.  The fun will be in seeing what the flock thinks.  And then of course telling you all about it.”

I talked our manager into just giving them the cups based on the conversation alone.  I hope to get an invite to the next potluck.

Guest Post: A Rainy Day at Hooters

Ray, a referee and Hooters fan from New Jersey, shares a damp tale of why Hooters hospitality really goes the extra mile.  Have your own Hooters story?  Have a great serving story of any kind?  Share it here!  Any and all guest posts accepted at sauce@accordingtosauce.com.


For over two decades officiating has been an enjoyable, and sometimes lucrative, avocation of mine.  Basketball, soccer and girls lacrosse are my sports and I've spent many an evening or weekend officiating them.

One Saturday I had four lacrosse games to officiate.  Naturally, after the assignments were dutifully completed, the obligatory post game refreshment stop at Hooter’s was ‘on tap’.

Ray with a few of his favorite Hooters Girls, Crystal & Lauren.

Saturday saw Mother Nature throw us in northern New Jersey, an absolute haymaker.  The first game, a varsity girls game was handled in very chilly and cold conditions.  No real problem.  I'd dealt with cold before.


It only got tough when I headed off to another town seven miles south for three youth lacrosse contests.  During the first game it started raining and never let up.  We were on field turf so the games went on. It was literally bone chilling, working the games shivering and by the last contest feeling like you were running with fifteen extra pounds due to drenched clothing.


That Hooter’s stop was not to be denied.  I drove the eight or so miles South to the Hackensack store.  In uniform, from the field I swung the door open and got some incredulous looks.  An entrance not unlike Rod Taylor barging in on guests, ragged and exhausted after returning from the futuristic journey in the original Time Machine.  The girls knew what I had done. They were surprised we even played and were nothing but sympathetic when they heard our schedule.  Customers asked the reasons behind my woefully freezing and soaked appearance.  The girls with their hospitality and concern were fabulous.  Another reason Hooter’s is such a special place with employees going that extra mile.


Regina was punching in an order when I came in.  I worked some of her high school soccer games a few years ago so she knows my officiating routine.  Having played she knew to ask what field turf facility I was working on.  Lauren, in casual gear so I assumed she was getting off duty, showed a lot of concern and emphasized to "get dry as soon as possible."  Crystal poured me a seven ounce beer.  I sipped and still shivered.  Another young lady, I believe it was Heather, talked sports after hearing my officiating exploits.  Not to forget, Heather offered to put hot tea on for me given my sorry soaked state.
   
I enjoyed two small beers.  I know it was cold, but the amber liquid in moderation replaces some fluids.  Then a much needed coffee to go. After chatting with manager, I got a large cup filled to the brim.  Still shivering some of the scalding beverage spilled a little on my hand.  And it didn’t even hurt.


Walking to my car I couldn’t help think how wonderful and concerned these dedicated young ladies are.  They made my visit in adverse conditions a lot better and for the first time in hours a feeling of warmth was returning.


The next day I officiated AAU basketball.  I returned to the same Hackensack store a lot drier but made sure to say a sincere and appreciative thank you to the young ladies who worked when I was there a day ago.


“Hey, we were happy to help,”  Lauren said. “We love you.”  The feeling is mutual.

I'm Health Nuts

Every year as swimsuit contest time comes around Hooters goes into health mode.  Suddenly girls who never think of what they eat, let alone visiting a gym, become obsessed with changing their bodies.  Now, let me make it clear that the vast majority of these girls are between 18 and 20-something and still have dream metabolisms that can take fried food on like champions.  It’s not they’re unhealthy on purpose, it’s that with a nearly perfect body that can down cheeseburgers with little to no consequence counting calories is usually pretty far from mind.

Wings is not part of
Dr. Hooties' healthy
menu prescription.

Of course many of these girls don’t really do that good of a job with the whole healthy thing simple because it's so very out of the ordinary for them.  For example, a girl might have a salad for lunch but she’ll get the Cobb.  Which is not just a salad, it’s a salad with three chicken strips on top not to mention bacon and cheese.  And of course they have it with ranch.   Or they’ll get a salad and have a hearty side of cheese fries.  Sorry, not healthy.  It’s a start, but it’s only the first inch of the healthy diet marathon.

I, on the other hand, am generally very conscious of what I eat and how I exercise.  It’s not that I constantly need to keep my weight in check, it’s that eating healthy and working out just makes me feel better.  And of course, being a college track athlete the whole working out and eating right thing really became a way of life for me.  Yes, I do love a big plate of grease with a side of cheese now and again but it’s certainly not the norm.

With my habits I tend to be the go to girl with diet and exercise questions – especially before the swimsuit contest.  Generally the questions are pretty generic and involve me talking about what I do day in and day out as far as eating and working out.  Sometimes this is met with further questions and sometimes it’s met with shock.  Usually it’s somewhere in between.

So there I was answering the “how can I be healthier question” and giving my usual spiel one day.  I gave an overview of my eating habits and how that's really the biggest part of losing weight and getting a lot of visible toning.  All that was fine until I started talking about working out and eventually got to how P90X can be a really good option for a lot of people because it pretty much tells you exactly what to do.

“Oh P90X!  I’ve heard about that.  Can you tell me more about that?”

I oblige and start lining out how it’s a muscle confusion program built on variation.  Blah, blah, blah.  When I get more into the actual substance of the P90X workout plan she stops me.

“Um, I just figured it was a pill or something to help me lose weight.  I don’t really want to work out and all that hard stuff.”

Face meet palm.

I'm Good at Excuses Among Other Things

Sunday was our swimsuit contest and with it came a very busy week for me.  Not I that was even competing.  Unlike last year, I decided against competing in the swimsuit contest.  Ironically I am in even better shape now than last year, but decided it just wasn’t something I felt like doing this time around.  There are a few very good reasons for this, but given the growth of this blog – and readership by some people who might like total honesty on this subject – I can’t really elaborate on them.  I’ll just say it’s all very political and leave it at that.

Even though I wasn’t in the contest it still ruled my life last week because somehow I was roped into being MC and hosting the whole event.  And let me tell you that required an awful lot of planning.  So really I was host and party planner and really unprepared to do either.  The responsibility fell into my lap and I had no choice but to get shit done.

Naturally this means that the contest was pretty awesome because I seem to build my life on overachieving.  I had games and funny things to say and sweet giveaways.  I even hear I was better than the two radio DJs who hosted the last two years.  That’s right, hosting is their job and I was better.  Go figure.  Sauce goes above and beyond once again.

All this really is one big excuse as to why I haven’t posted in a week.  I apologize.  I promise to post lots in the next few days.

Oh and my article for the June/July issue of Hooters Magazine was due last week too.  There, another excuse.  By the way, did you pick up my last one (April/May if you're keeping up here)?  It’s probably the best one yet.  Read it.

Four-Eyed Hooters Girls

A fan from England emailed me a question I thought I'd address for all my readers.  Here's what she asked:

Are Hooters Girls permitted to wear glasses?   I only ask because I've never once seen a Hooters Girl wearing them, either in person or in photographs...I found myself wondering whether a Hooters Girl would be allowed to wear glasses or whether contact lenses would be required, or at least preferred?  It's probably a bit of a random question, but I was just curious having never seen a bespectacled Hooters Girl.  Do they exist??

Go Ahead.  Zoom in if you don't believe me.

While seeing a Hooters Girl in glasses is indeed rare, they do exist.  Hooters has no requirement that girls needing corrective lenses wear contacts.  There are a few girls at my store who alternate between contacts and glasses - and look great either way.  We have also had a few girls since we opened who wore glasses everyday.


All that being said, I would say that contacts are worn more often than glasses among the girls who require them.


Have you own Hooters question?  EMAIL Sauce and you might see it answered here on "Hooters According to Sauce."  Or submit your question via FORMSPRING where burning questions are answered everyday!

Guest Post: Shawn the Maid Talks Back

After posting about "Shawna the Maid" visiting my Hooters, I asked Shawn if he'd be kind enough to write a guest post.  While I could do Shawn's story some justice on my own, I thought hearing about his experiences firsthand would shed light I could never bring to Shawn's Hooters' adventures.  Possessing a creative writing degree, Shawn went above and beyond and delivered a post that is as poignant as it is humorous.  Thanks, Shawn, for providing a great first guest post!  Feel free to send your own guest post about your Hooters experiences to sauce@accordingtosauce.com.  

I now present my new friend Shawn in his own words:

When Sauce first mentioned that she wanted to blog about me, my heart kind of stopped for a second. When she told me she sometimes gets upwards of 1,000 views a day and also writes for the Hooters magazine, I began looking for a defibrillator! Over the course of five years and 249 previous Hooters stores visited since I lost the now-infamous Steelers Super Bowl bet of 2005/06, I’d actually managed to keep a fairly low profile. Yes, I’ve got 1,300 friends on a Facebook profile that documents the crazy adventures of my French Maid alter ego, Shawna the Maid.  But by and large, I’d successfully avoided anything approaching real media.

The panic passed, though.  I knew Sauce would treat me well.  And she was even sweet enough to post pictures that obscure my identity because, as she mentioned, I do have a real life running two businesses … and clients who might see the humor – but not the professional benefit – of personally knowing the Official Bitch of the Hooters Girls.

Shawn with the ladies of Tallahassee.

Then Sauce extended me a very generous invitation to share a bit of my story – in my own words – with all of her readers.  She asked me to tell you all what it’s like to be Shawna the Maid.  And because Sauce was so wonderful to me – during my visit to her store AND in her blog, writing a guest post was the least I could do in return.

So one thing you probably ought to know about me is that doing something so outrageous … so embarrassing … is so completely out of character for me.  I’m not the guy who parties too hard, makes a fool of himself to everyone’s amusement and wakes up with his friends’ crude penis drawings all over his face.  I’m the guy who doesn’t drink, let alone get drunk – the guy who never does anything boisterous or inappropriate.  So it was quite an adjustment for me to accept all the embarrassment and attention those first dozen or so times I walked into Hooters wearing a frilly French maid’s uniform, fishnets and six-inch hooker heels!

But I pressed on because I don’t go back on my word about anything.  And I found ways to deal with the embarrassment in time so that it wasn’t always so bad.  The most important thing was realizing that I needed to loosen up – way up – and give myself (and everybody else) permission to laugh and have fun with the whole thing.  That’s made all the difference.  And if I’m being honest, I actually have to say that despite all the embarrassment, it’s been one of the most incredible, fun experiences of my life – though maybe not for the reasons you might imagine.

Some girls take the "bitch" title very seriously!

First, let me explain the whole “Hooters bitch” thing Sauce mentioned in her post. Way back when this all began, the girls at one of the stores were taking lots of pictures with me and thought it would be hilarious to pose making me do some “maid’s work.” So there I was dumping plates of half-eaten wings into a bus tub when one of the girls burst into laughter and said, “Hey, it’s like you’re our bitch!”

Well let me tell you – that’s not the kind of thing that has a short shelf life.  For the rest of that visit, the girls just called me “bitch.”  As in, “Hey, bitch, come help me clean my tables.”  Or, “Bitch, come spot sweep my floor.”  They weren’t being mean; they were genuinely having fun with it, and I played along.  Why?  Because I knew that if I refused to do their cleaning or if I balked at being called their bitch, it would shut down their fun.  I didn’t want that, so I decided my policy would be that I’ll go along with whatever the girls want so long as it’s safe and legal.  I’ve questioned the wisdom of that policy a few times in the five years since, but overall it’s served me pretty well.

Anyway, after that visit, Ava (the girl I lost the bet to) came up with the idea that I should get a certificate signed by the girls at every store proclaiming me their official bitch.  The certificates would make each visit “official.”  They’d also be a unique momento, and getting those signatures would ensure I spent an adequate amount of time in each store.  Turns out, though, that a lot of girls won’t sign that certificate until they’ve actually found plenty of ways to make me their bitch!

An official certificate with hard earned signatures.

When I visited Sauce’s store (on what happened to be my birthday), she and the girls – and even the manager – really did put me to work.  I swept the floor, dusted the blinds, cleared and set tables.  I even dusted every surface in the small casino adjacent to the restaurant.  And that was a store where the girls went easy on me! 

  

In other stores, I’ve been made to clean for hours.  I’ve been “ordered” to walk with the girls up and down the sidewalk holding signs advertising happy hour specials.  I’ve been made to sing the Hooters birthday song; to dance the Hooters Hokie-Pokie; and to try countless times to hula hoop, a skill I will never, ever develop.  In store after store, the girls have come up with creative, playful ways to embarrass me.  They announce me to the crowd.  They take pictures and videos galore.  They tease me endlessly about how “hot” I look in my fishnets and heels.  And I’m not gonna play lie – for a guy, I rock that shit!

Then, on occasion, the girls find ways to take the Shawna the Maid experience to a whole new level.  For example …

Floors cleaned upon request.

In some stores, the girls make a little mess for me to clean if the place doesn’t need any real work.  They might crush up some crackers or tear up some napkins for me to sweep up.  But in Bradenton, Florida, the girls used ketchup and mustard to write things like “Shawna is our bitch!” all over the floor throughout the restaurant, and then simply handed me the cleaning supplies.  I spent more than an hour on my hands and knees, cleaning every last trace of it from the floor while they took pictures, teased me and laughed like it was the best night they’d ever had. 

In Indianapolis, Indiana, the girls started handing me quarters – one at a time – to go feed the parking meters where their cars were parked … some as many as three blocks up and down the busy downtown street on which the restaurant is located.  Let me tell you … if you want to know what embarrassment is, parade yourself up and down the streets of downtown Indy in a pink French maid’s outfit during lunch hour on a Friday. 

  

Shawn and a Hooters Girl hit the club.

There are so many more examples – like the time I was “kidnapped” by a Hooters girl and two of her girlfriends as her shift ended.  They drove me half an hour away from the restaurant in a town with which I was not familiar, and they led me down an alley to a dance club.  I didn’t know until they walked me through the door – still in full maid attire, mind you – that we were walking into the town’s hottest gay nightclub!  I’m not at all homophobic, so it was totally cool, but I definitely was surprised.

  

I’ve been ordered to take part in an impromptu photo shoot with the girls on a Saturday morning when the store was dead.  I’ve been made to work as the store hostess on Wrestlemania and UFC pay-per-view nights with standing-room-only crowds.  I’ve been made to clean the shoes of every girl working on a fully staffed Friday night.

It’s important to note that my visits work because I’m not creepy.  There are a number of guys who wish they could do what I do – who fantasize about it.  There have even been a couple who have seen me online and been emboldened to try it.  And they’ve creeped out everybody in the place because it’s so obvious that they’re getting off on it.  But that’s not what happens when I make my visits because people realize pretty quickly what I’m about.  Once they meet me and hear about the lost bet, they get that I’m not perving on the girls.  And I’ve had girls remark on the fact that I spend all my time when we talk looking them in the eyes instead of the breasts.  Of course I appreciate the beauty of all the girls I meet, but I actually respect them.  I’m not there to sexualize them, which makes it OK for everybody to just have fun with my visits. 

Signing a hat for an adoring fan.

It’s funny how many times people have approached me to find out what I was all about and wound up buying me drinks and even whole meals because they appreciate what it takes to live up to one’s word like this.  I’ve had families ask to take pictures with me.  Senior ladies, too.  And I’ve even been asked to sign a couple of autographs, which is a totally surreal experience.

The fact is, I have met some truly amazing people (and Sauce is right at the top of that list) since this whole thing began – people I never would have met otherwise.  I’ve met girls who are studying to become doctors and lawyers; single moms who are making sure their children don’t want for anything; artists and poets and musicians who are hoping to someday be discovered. 

And it’s a funny thing … after the girls have their fun making me their bitch, more often than not we find ourselves talking about things that have nothing to do with Hooters or the bet I lost and everything to do with the lives that we live. 

  

Hanging out with a few girls after an official visit.

I’ve made friends during these visits that I’ve kept in touch with for years – girls who have encouraged me through break-ups and personal setbacks and many others who I’ve counseled through lost love, family tragedies, illnesses, addictions and crises of faith.  I’ve been in a relationship with an incredible woman for a little over two years now, and I never would have met her if not for one of the wonderful friends I’ve made as Shawna the Maid.

I can’t recall the number of girls I’ve prayed with and for over the last five years.  And I’ve lost count of the number who have not only kept in touch but have sent me Christmas letters, birthday cards, baby pictures and even wedding invitations.

When I think about those people and those experiences – and how much richer my life has been these last five years because I am Shawna the Maid, Official Bitch of the Hooters Girls – I look back and don’t think I’d change the results of that bet I lost for anything in the world.

Of course, I’m still nervous every single time I show up at a store “in uniform.”  I don’t think that’ll ever go away.  But I don’t dread it the way I did in the early days.  In fact, because so many of the girls know me through Facebook and are expecting me when I arrive, I can usually be confident that it’s going to be a good time despite the nerves.  And that makes it a whole lot easier listening to my heels click on the pavement as I make that “walk of shame” from the car to the front door.

I'll let the Hooters Girls take this post out...

Cookies Will Put Me Through Grad School

Eat me!

Have I ever mentioned that my parents own a fabulous Dutch bakery?  Nope, I sure haven't.  Well they do.  And thy make fabulous little treats.  So fabulous they even got to be on the Rachel Ray Show where she called them "delish" and other things she likes to say to annoy the crap out of me.

You should go to their site and order all sorts of yumminess for everyone you know.  Trust me.  It's good stuff.  Their most known for their stroopwafels which they call caramel cookie waffles (because the literal translation of "syrup waffle" just doesn't get the point across).  These traditional Dutch cookies are filled with caramel. You need them.

Plus, since track and field kindly paid for my undergrad, my parents have agreed to help with my MBA.  Which means those cookies are getting me educated.

You + Cookies = Smart Sauce

CHECK IT OUT!

And no, I am not on this website.  You can however check out my mom and sister if you look hard enough.  Hotties!

Oh and the question this always leads to: "If your parents own a bakery how are you not like 500 pounds?!"  It's called willpower.  Get some.

Oh and yes the website is...er...dated.  But it's my Dad's baby and he loves it.  Feel free to imagine what his accent sounds like while you read it.

Training in My Sleep

In preparation for the busier warm weather months I’ve been training a lot of new girls lately.  Out of my regular five to six shifts a week I’m training someone at least two of them.  And let me just be totally honest, while a few have been really great hires most of them leave a lot to be desired.  It seems experience has taken a back seat.  Or it’s taken the trunk.  Or more likely it wasn’t even in the car to begin with.  Yes, this is Hooters and looks do matter, but believe it or not is possible to find girls pretty faces that also have experience – or at least common sense.  Maybe I should fill in our hiring manager.  Maybe I should also let him know that his “nines and tens only” make me feel like a freaking thirty.  But that’s another story.

Oh hey, Holly.

Anyhooters, all this training has been draining.  While I am paid an extra dollar an hour while training (take that minimum wage), after awhile that hardly seems worth all the extra work.  Especially when you consider I have to take less tables and explain every little thing I’m doing and why I’m doing it.  All that baby stepping can really get on your nerves after awhile.

It’s probably not hard to imagine given all that venting that training has been on my mind a lot lately.  In fact it’s been on my mind so much that the other day I had a dream about training.  If there is one thing I hate more than anything it’s dreaming about work; I spend enough time there during the day without it finding me during sleep.  Sleep is my time, Hooters.  Back off.

Dreaming away, I suddenly realize I’m in the back room at Hooters.  Gathering uniforms, tests and employee manuals, I’m readying myself for my newest trainee.  Of course this is a dream so somehow I’m suddenly waiting for her as she tries everything on.  It’s all pretty normal until the door opens and the trainee starts to come out of the bathroom but she doesn’t just come walking out.  She comes rolling out.  Rather than having on her standard, Hooters issued Sketchers she has on roller skates.  And not just any roller skates, but the hardcore low-top type that burly roller derby chicks wear.

As I begin to tell her that the skates are a horrible idea and not appropriate, the trainee interrupts me to tell me that she is a roller derby girl and she gave up walking for Lent to improve her moves on the derby circuit.  Even within my dream I note that Hooters Girl and roller derby girl make no damn sense together.  I let her wear the skates.  This is probably mostly because she is a total bitch and I want to see her eat shit.

And that is exactly what happens.  I wake up just after watching her fall into a hula-hooping child.  I sadly missed the aftermath. 

It was all strangely statisfying.

Bringing Boobs to a Mouse Pad Near You

Hooters is one of those places that is known for souvenirs.  You eat some greasy wings, check out some tits, guzzle at least twenty-five ounces of beer and then get a t-shirt so you can remember it all tomorrow.  In fact, if I’m being a really good little Hooters Girl I’m supposed to hard sell at every table I have.  And let me tell you, I’m damn good at selling shit when I’m in the mood for it.  It just really isn’t that difficult to sell a cheap t-shirt or a calendar full of hot chicks.  Hell even I have a calendar full of hot chicks.  Who doesn’t want that shit adorning their lackluster walls?

Now is only your screen was 3D.

Some things though aren’t as easy to sell.  These include expensive items like golf bags (I’ve sold one) and poker sets (still working on that one).  They also include items like the booby mouse pad.  That’s right, Hooters sells a mouse pad with it’s own set of gel-filled, mini double-d’s.  And while it’s good for a laugh from pretty much every person who stops at the merchandise counter, it’s not exactly a big seller.  While they’ll all feel it up for a second or two, no one really seems to want to take that experience home with them.

Of course there are a few exceptions.  Purchasers of the mouse pad include creepy older businessmen, gag gifters - 50% at least - and awkward college students.  I can only imagine how an anatomical mouse pad could heighten the Internet porn viewing of a lonely college freshman in a darkened dorm room.  That just sounds like a match made in masturbation heaven.

Now with all that background, you can imagine my total surprise when I sold one of these mouse pads not to an acne prone teenager, but to a 75+ year-old woman.  Yes, I actually managed to sell one of our endowed mouse pads to a female senior citizen who couldn’t wait to get that thing on her desk.

Available in your choice of
skin tone!

“I’ve just never found a mouse pad with so much wrist support.  Much better than the silly ones my daughter keeps buying for me.”

This woman was generally excited about her purchase and prepared me for it being a hit at her assisted living facility.

“All the ladies will be in here next week getting their own!”

I love old people; they just don’t give a fuck what people think of them.  It’s refreshing.  That’s why I’m fully prepared for a barrage of support hose, canes and short perms to be busting down the doors of Hooters for a booby mouse pad.  They’ll be talking about them at quilting clubs and card tables and 5:00 p.m. suppers.  I feel a fad coming on.

Have I mentioned I freaking love old people?  Oh, I have.  Well I still effing do.

Shawna the Maid

I love all the interesting people I meet at Hooters.  While restaurants are always good places to meet people, Hooters seems to bring extra special people out of the woodwork – I mean this both positively and negatively.  Like the Red Ladies.  Or the ever infamous Nylon Man.  Then there was rapper Twista, who was a douche and three quarters.  Of course there are also all the “regular” people who have sweet jobs like working for the Attorney General or building log homes for Russian mafia.  Yes, I’ve really met all those people and more at Hooters.  And I love every minute of it.

I'll let you guess which one Shawn is.

Amidst all that awesome, recently I met possibly one of my favorite Hooters customers ever.  On an overcast Tuesday, this man made his 250^th visit to a Hooters at my store.  While 250 Hooters may seem impressive, more impressive is the fact that he visited each and every one of them in a French maid costume.

Now before you scream creep, let me give you a little background.  Way back in 2005 Shawn, who was dating a Hooters Girl at the time, made a bet with his girlfriend that the Steelers wouldn’t win the Super Bowl.  It seemed a lock for Shawn.  The Steelers needed to win the next eight games in a row to make it reality. 

So he made the bet and terms were agreed upon.  While the bet seemed laughable, the conditions seemed even more so.  As they sat at dinner in a Texas Hooters on a French maid theme night it was agreed upon that if the Steelers won Super Bowl, Shawn would visit every Hooters in the country in a French maid outfit.  It seemed like a joke – a very funny one - that would never amount to anything.

Shoe cleaning bitch.

Then the Steelers started winning.  First one game, then two and on it went until the Steelers unbelievably won the Super Bowl.  Shawn’s fate was sealed.  Before he knew it his girlfriend had ordered a costume online and began mapping out Hooters to correspond with Shawn’s business trips.  Not one to back down, Shawn has been visiting Hooters as Shawna the maid ever since, slowly working off hid debt. 

As he crisscrosses the country his (now ex) girlfriend carefully documents his progress on Facebook where Shawn has developed quite a following.  Pictures go up of each and every visit where Hooters Girls make Shawn do everything from sweeping the floors to bussing tables.  Somewhere along the line Shawn became “Hooters bitch” and the name has stuck ever since.

And finally, I was contacted.  To avoid any confusion, Shawn always contacts the stores and a few girls that work there prior to his visits.  At first I’ll admit I was a little skeptical.  Some dude with a blurred face (because of his job and clients) dressed in a maid costume messaged me on Facebook.  You’d probably be suspicious at first too.  But after a little Facebook creeping and a message or two I quickly realized that Shawn was just a cool dude who was a man of his word.  That’s pretty awesome in my book.

Our stuff for Shawn: sign, 250th visit plate, discipline form
he was late, tooth brushes for cleaning and his
certificate validating his visit.

Like 249 Hooters before us, we spent the afternoon embarrassing Shawn.  As an official visit, Shawn must do everything the Hooters Girls ask of him in order to get his certificate signed (also the girlfriend’s genius idea).  We tried not to disappoint.  We made him clean tables, dust blinds and shine silverware.  Dreamy even crushed up crackers deliberately for him to sweep.

And while all that was in good fun, I can honestly say that Shawn was just a genuinely interesting person.  Here was a man with a big fancy job and important things to do who didn’t take himself too seriously.  He didn’t life get in the way of life.  That is something I can really appreciate.  Even if he does it in a maid costume.

Not So Unexpected

Some of you are gullible!  Yes, it was all one big, somewhat unoriginal April Fool's joke.  Now let me show you what is really awesome - and totally 100% original - about my post.  Please observe the following:

"A few weeks ago I began to get worried.  Perhaps deep down I already knew what was going on, but I definitely chose to ignore it.  Rightly so I suppose.  I guess I’d just never expect something like this to happen.  Lapses in judgment can so easily change everything.

Finding out you’re pregnant is frightening – there I said it.  Or at least it is when it’s so very unplanned.  Obviously this is the situation I suddenly and unexpectedly find myself in. Less than prepared would be an understatement.  So now what?

Bring it on I guess.  It’s that sort of attitude that’s gotten me through so many things.  This definitely calls for that sort of optimism right?  Caught in between so many emotions I guess it’s really all I can do.  Hopefully all the questions I have now will eventually answer themselves.  Even the really hard ones.  Secret’s out at least; guess that’s step one."

APRIL FOOLS BITCHES

Not only did I fool some of you, I took the time to call you out on that shit.  So while the joke might not have been entirely original, the delivery was pretty awesome.  Some of you got it, but no one got that part of it.  I'm cryptic as the effing Da Vinci Code.

I would however like to thank my faithful readers for being so wonderfully supportive.  It's nice to know that should I ever find myself in that situation I would have such kind words to bolster my confidence.  That's no joke at all.

And I was going to keep this going, but my mom got worried.  No, mom, I'm not with child.  You can put the tissue away now.

Unexpected

A few weeks ago I began to get worried.  Perhaps deep down I already knew what was going on, but I definitely chose to ignore it.  Rightly so I suppose.  I guess I’d just never expect something like this to happen.  Lapses in judgment can so easily change everything.

Finding out you’re pregnant is frightening – there I said it.  Or at least it is when it’s so very unplanned.  Obviously this is the situation I suddenly and unexpectedly find myself in.  Less than prepared would be an understatement.  So now what?

Bring it on I guess.  It’s that sort of attitude that’s gotten me through so many things.  This definitely calls for that sort of optimism right?  Caught in between so many emotions I guess it’s really all I can do.  Hopefully all the questions I have now will eventually answer themselves.  Even the really hard ones.  Secret’s out at least; guess that’s step one.