Sunday Rocked Me Like a Hurricane

My Sunday was not happy or
go huggy.  CREDIT.

I'd only had three tables in two hours on Sunday and the floor still hadn't been cut.  Needless to say the whole thing was making me entirely frustrated.  I wanted to stay all day and of course I wanted to make money - I was doing the former, but the latter was proving impossible.  There is almost nothing worse than when we are slow and the manager doesn't make cuts.  Usually this is because he or she is doing something that leaves them mildly ignoring the floor.  In this case, our manager was completing the schedule leaving us totally overstaffed out front.

While I wanted to stay, as well as a new hire on her second day alone on the floor, the other three girls wanted desperately to go home to do whatever one does on one of the few warm, sunny days we've had.  Having made less than twenty dollars I was all for each and every one of them leaving.  After all it was slow as shit.  I could easily handle the floor with a brand new, never served before Hooters Girl as my only backup.  So I marched into the office, laid down the situation and requested the floor be cut.  And it was.  Life was good.

Well life was good until about ten minutes after the other three girls had gone home when everyone suddenly decided to come into Hooters in an awkward 1:30 rush.  Suddenly I went from having three tables in two hours to having ten all at the same time.  Of course to make things even more interesting six of the ten had five or more (the largest having ten) people in their party.  Shit got real in a hurry.

There I was juggling tables like a freaking pro.  I was running drinks, slinging orders, refilling drinks, greeting guests, running food, refilling more drinks and doing so in excellent time.  I was on a roll.  Meanwhile our poor new girl had four tables and I'm pretty sure her little head was about to explode.  I helped her as much as I could - answer questions, helping her ring in food - but with so many of my own tables I pretty much had to throw her into the deep end and hope she could tread water without almost drowning.

I didn't even have the time to feel bad for her.  I'd made the decision to cut and here I was getting my "I want to be busy" wish.  The world seemed to be attempting to teach me a lesson, but it didn't take into account that I can multitask like a mofo.  Plus all my guests were those rare, totally awesome people who actually understand when you're busy.  Out of all those tables I didn't have one bitch.  That, my friends, is a serving miracle.

"Sorry I had to make you guys wait a minute.  We weren't really expecting this so it's just me and a server who's only on her second shift.  I really appreciate you being patient with us today!"

"Oh that's total fine.  We understand!"

Wait.  You understand?  Who are you and why are you making my busy ass life so awesome?  Have I mentioned I'm head-over-heels in love with you?  Yup.  I love you.

Sunday I ran my ass of.  But my "I'm poor as shit because I'm moving this month" back account reaped the benefits.  I'd like to thank my customers for being actual human beings and exhibiting that rare trait we call compassion.  You all have good karma coming your way.  And if you read this blog faithfully you know I don't wish that on people very often.  Lucky you.

Training a Hooters Girl

"I am so NOT Hooteriffic today," she said with a scowl. "I fucking hate this place."

I shrugged unfazed. Little fits from our Hooters Girls were all too common. In fact, I heard girls bitch daily in a nearly constant hum of discontent. The words, "I fucking hate this place," were certainly nothing new to a seasoned Hooters Girl like myself.

Now, it is true that even the best Hooters Girls are occasionally not in a Hooters mood. This is no different than any other job; sometimes you just don't want to go to work. This girl's entirely shitty attitude however resulted from something else entirely. This was not just a bad mood sort of day, but a bad mood with a definite cause. To simplify, this bad mood was created on purpose.

So why would one purposely be in a bad mood? Well that's easy, girls that are in bad moods are sent home. Once upon a time, a manager thought it would be a good idea to send a less than peppy girl home one night in an effort to keep the "Hooters is always happy" facade going. Other girls took notice and suddenly one crappy attitude multiplied until one was two, two was four and eventually girls were being sent home almost nightly.

The thing is that it wasn't simply that Hooters Girls were in bad moods; it was that they began realizing bad moods were in a sense being rewarded. Want to go out with your friends? Be in a bad mood. Want to see your boyfriend? Be in a bad mood. Want to be a lazy bitch? Be in a bad mood. Rather than punishing a bad attitude, girls began using them to get what they want. It was incredibly effective.

"I am so NOT Hooteriffic today," she said with a scowl. "I fucking hate this place."

While I was unfazed, I also recalled her talking earlier as she applied her lip gloss before jumpstart. "I really want to get super trashed tonight - gonna have to start early."

It was all too familiar.

"I think I may send her home," remarked the night manager about an hour into our shift.

"You realize she's doing that on purpose." I'd let it slip and suddenly I found myself questioning the manager about the backwards logic of essentially rewarding girls for being little bitches.

"It's like training a dog," I said. "You reward bad behavior and it's going to keep doing it. Like my roommate's Jack Russell, she's learned that she gets pet every time she barks. Anyone enters our door, the barking starts."

Yes, I had just likened Hooters Girls to training dogs, but the manager nodded her head in silent agreement.

"You're right, she's staying."

The reward for bad behavior was suddenly gone.

Here's the thing about Hooters; it's a job. Some days you don't feel like going. It happens to everyone, it happens to me. The thing is though, even on those days you suck it up and you go, do the work expected of you and go home. Do I always feel Hooteriffic? HELL NO! But I still pull up my nylons and slap on a smile like a big girl because that's my job. I owe every customer that walks in the doors of Hooters spectacular service because they expect it whether I feel like doing it or not. That's what work is, getting a job done. A job you signed up for.

So will girls be angry that the "I'm a bitch today" routine won't work so well anymore? Of course they will. Maybe though, they'll learn to do their job at the same time.

The Politics of Cuts

Believe it or not there are some days when I don't feel very "Hooteriffic".  Sometimes it's impossible to find the desire or energy to bounce to Cotton Eyed Joe, hula hoop pour without spilling your precious beer, or scream, "Hi, welcome to Hooters" in my happiest, fake, cute girl voice.  These are also the sort of shifts where I feel like I would rather be wearing a black Hefty bag than the orange Hooters shorts.  These are the sort of shifts where I want to be cut and I want to be cut early.

Just in case you don't know, being cut means you're shift is done and you get to go home.  Hooters, like most restaurants, doesn't give you a set shift end time, rather the restaurant volume dictates when you'll get to leave.  Generally our first cut is relatively early because there always seems to be way too many girls scheduled in the first place (i.e. dumb scheduling manager).  These first one or two girls are cut at around 7:00 p.m.  The next cut is usually at 9:30, followed by one at 10:30 leaving two girls to close the restaurant.

I ALWAYS close.  Usually I do not mind closing.  It not only means more money for me on that given shift, but also more shifts because I am easy to work with.  Once in a blue moon however, I too wish to be that lucky girl who gets sent home quicker than she can pull on her nylons.  Unfortunately, I am never that girl (especially on nights when I have super important things to do, like say, watch American Idol).

You see there are politics surrounding cuts and when I saw politics I mean the really dirty kind where there's a huge coverup to hide some elicit sex and gambling ring that takes place in the basement of City Hall.  Girls who want to go home early every night know how to play dirty.  There are several tactics for this.  One tactic is the ever popular, "I have homework" line.  Now I'm not saying you don't have homework, but as the only college grad at our Hooters I'm pretty sure you don't have a paper due EVERY damn day; I was there, I know.  Another favorite tactic is cheating on cut games.  Generally this will involve something like doing the name tag draw when not all the girls are present - funny how those not present have to stay.  And let me tell you, it's the same girls who go home early all the time.

So why does Hooters keep these slacking girls?  Well a good part of that has to do with the fact that girls like me will work their asses off picking up the slack.  If I do twice the work and never complain they don't have to hire another girl.  Also, some of these girls are our trainers who, in the beginning, worked their butts off but now don't give a damn knowing that they won't get fired because it would look bad.  Meanwhile, the rest of us trainers not only do twice the work but get a bad rap from the other girls.

It's all good though, I'll keep working my buns off and making my money and someday perhaps I'll miraculously have homework for a class I'm not even in. Oh and just so you know that homework involves watching American Idol.