Twin Tower and the UFC

Working UFC is totally hit or miss.  Since you only get a section of about five tables with little to no turnover, a great night or a shitty night depends entirely on what sort of people are sat in your section initially.  Because of this, I used my seniority to avoid UFC nights altogether long ago.  While I'm sure I've missed out on some big tip nights, in the end my steady Saturday day shifts have probably been better in the long run.  And they've definitely been better on the stress level - which is a huge win in my opinion.

One UFC upon a time, Twin Tower had a pretty nice section; a few of her tables were turning over ensuring at least decent tips.  Of course even with those few tables, there had to be one demanding table.  The type of table that is blind, stupid, or just rude enough to not realize the restaurant is standing room only.  This is UFC, Hooters is always standing room only.  Usually people are nice enough to realize that shit is going to take longer because not only does everyone else need something too, but once you've got that something it takes an eternity to weave around the crowd to get to your tables.  Patience during UFC is crucial and this table didn't have that.

Really it wasn't that the entire table was impatient, it was that one lady - who had been taking excellent advantage of our margarita special - was being impatient enough for everyone.  She was running Twin Tower's ass off but none of the effort was appreciated.  It became evident fairly quickly that Twin could have brought a blender to the table and pumped out margaritas right into this lady's mouth and it still wouldn't be fast enough.

Eventually, the fights came to an end and Twin Tower began the process of handing out receipts to her tables.  And then the worst thing happened.  Of all the people at the table to pick up the check, it had to be that lady.  This has a way of happening; you have an awesome table where everything went right, but one unhappy, depressed with life, oblivious asshole ruins it.  And even though everyone else is happy with the way the meal went, that miserable person is not and inevitable decides to pay.  Where anyone else at the table would have left 15-20% this douche will of course leave ten or less.  Great.

And that, my friends, is exactly what happened.  The lady paid and left one of those awesome 0% tips on a rather large tab.  All that work - on one of the busiest nights - was for nothing.  Her biggest table had stiffed her.

Months and months later, Twin Tower had pretty much all but forgotten about the incident.  UFC fights had come and gone and new stories of assholery had replaced the old.  Six months had passed when a man walked into Hooters one day and refused a table when Twin Tower just happened to try and seat him.  This happened instead:

Twin Tower:  "One today?  Come on over!"

Man:  "Actually, I'm not looking for a table, but I was looking for you."

It was right about then that she noticed a receipt in his hand and his eyes on her nametag.  She was unsure what to say.

Man:  "I was in here about six months ago for UFC and realized after getting home that my wife didn't tip you appropriately.  I'm sorry I didn't notice at the time."

Tower began to say something but was interrupted.

Man:  "I just came back to make it right since I was in town."

He then handed her forty dollars.

Man:  "That seems about right with a little interest."

Twin Tower was totally and utterly floored and barely had time to deliver a thank you before the man was out the door and on his way.   Karma was probably smiling.

See, sometimes I DO have good tipping stories.

Hands Off

Not my butt.  CREDIT.

Once upon the time - meaning Friday - a customer at Hooters went over the line.  In a moment one man went from regular ass to unbearable ass.  And all he did was touch a Hooters Girl.

Twin Tower was waiting on a table of two gentlemen who were unashamed to share their uncouth comments.  Now this might seem like something that is somewhat common at a place like Hooters, but really it's not.  I like to think this is because most people are smart enough to realize that we don't give a shit about what they say.  After all Hooters is just another sports bar when you really get down to it.  I also like to think that people are smart enough to realize that being a jerk isn't going to do a damn thing for them.  These guys were apparently not of this particular IQ level.

 So they began with their comments and while they were annoying and occasionally rude they were innocent.  Twin Tower, being a girl with a sense of humor, deftly handled their words with quick comebacks and expertly planned exits. 

Then it happened.  One of the men reached out and touched Twin Tower.  In fact, he not only touched her but put his hand inside the front of her shorts, grabbing the fabric as he pulled her toward him.  After letting him know this was inappropriate and meeting shock and disbelief, Twin Tower did what any girl would do and grabbed the manager to talk to the table.

Of course these particular gentlemen weren't the type to head the words of a manager.  They were the type to yell and make a scene and blame everything on the manager.  They said they'd never come to Hooters again and tell all their friends to do the same.  For this I would have thanked them.

After having a temper tantrum, the men noisily made their leave.  Naturally they left a messy table and no tip on their way out.

I love people.

A Twin Tower Tale: Weedalicious

Recently, Twin Tower had a nice little section of booths in the front of the restaurant.  Now by nice little section of booths I really mean the annoying section that is hidden behind an effing half-wall so you can never be totally sure if anyone has actually sat themselves there.  Luckily she - like myself - is tall and noticed two earthy gentlemen pick the middle booth of her section.

Approaching the table, Twin Tower noticed several things.  First, she noticed just how "earthy" they were in the visual sense.  Chacos, dreads, threadbare t-shirts, scruff neards (neard = neck beard).  I'm sure you can picture exactly what I mean.  Getting closer, the next thing Twin Tower noticed was the earthy smell - a combination of ganga and B.O. that screams "I fight the system and tell my friends I only eat organic."

Twin Tower:  "Hi, guys!  Welcome to Hooters!"

*BLAH, BLAH.  Usual niceties.  "We have coke products."  Coors Light.  Name on a napkin. BLAH*

Twin Tower:  "So what have you guys been up to lately?"

Dude 1:  "Oh you know, just growin' lots of weed."

Dude 2:  "Yeah, tons of weed."

After processing and realizing both Dude 1 and Dude 2 were totally serious and shaking off what I imagine to be the blankest of blank looks of her face, Twin Tower took it all in stride.

Twin Tower:  "Thats...nice.  Good for you?  I mean, drugs personally scare me but I'm sure that's...lucrative for you."

They both nodded in approval as Twin Tower excused herself from the table.  Coming up to me, Twin Tower recounted her discourse with the table.  Ah, the beauty of Missoula, Montana and the legalization of medical marijuana.  I explained as much as I could.

Twin Tower:  "All this makes me miss Northern Idaho."

Sauce:  "Why?  So you can buy Meth out of the back of trailer?"

Twin Tower:  "Good point."

I Remember My First Debit Card

While I was out on my epic Montana adventure, this happened back at Hooters:

If you are unsure what is going on here, let me enlighten you.  This is a "Merchant Copy" credit card slip.  You know, that thing you're meant to sign and leave for your server.  That thing that is really effing easy to figure out.  It has a couple of pretty clearly marked lines that you're meant to fill out.  It's simple.  Very, very simple.  For most.

Backstory.  Twin Tower was serving a table of six high school boys.  You know how I feel about high school diners at Hooters.  I'm sure they ordered water.  After asking how much it costs.  Anyway, at the end of the meal, Twin Tower split and delivered the tickets to the table.  One, Mr. Johnston, opted to pay by debit.

Twin Tower:  "Go ahead and sign that top copy and keep the bottom copy for yourself!"

This is pretty typical.  We've all heard it.  We know what to do.  Mr. Johnston it seems did not.  Let us ignore for a moment the fact that he left no tip.  Let's instead focus on the fact that he ignored the obvious "Signature" line and instead felt compelled to sign the very top of the credit receipt.  What the?!

Mr Johnston, let me give you the benefit of the doubt and assume this is your first debit card.  Let me further postulate that this is the first time you have used said first debit card.  I am giving you every possible out here and yet I can still not fathom what led you to sign your receipt in that way.  You make no sense.  You make negative sense.  Yes, I said negative sense.  

Fine, I'll assume Twin Tower's long legs and general hotness got in the way of you doing a simple everyday task.  That's the only explanation.

Introducing Twin Tower

Today I am introducing you to a new character.  I realize that as far as specific people go, I've pretty much avoided creating too many recurring roles on my blog.  Why have I done this?  Really I'm not effing sure, but as I feel somewhat obligated to have a good reason I'll just say no one else was interesting or memorable enough to be included up until now.  This is obviously a lie, but I don't really care.

Anyway, today I introduce you to Twin Tower.  Twin Tower is a fellow Hooters Girl who, like me, is also fairly tall.  Get it?  Twin Tower (she came up with the name in a Facebook album once upon a time).  I mean when we transfer tables to one another we typical introduce each other by saying something like, "you're just getting one awkwardly tall girl for another!"  But beyond being similarly vertically gifted, we are also twinsies because we have a similarly strange sense of humor.  And we are both wildly intelligent (I'm unsure if her level of modesty mirrors mine) and serve as alternating hosts for the trivia nights our store holds every Wednesday.  Tangent: that reminds me that this is my week, better start working on writing some questions.  Whatever.  You get the idea.  We're similar people.

So the other day - meaning Saturday - Twin Tower and I decided to turn up the excitement at work by entertaining ourselves with the idea of creating a Hooters musical.  Oh did I mention we're also effing weird.  Obviously we are really effing weird.  Anyhooters, we spent our shift exploring the possibilities of Hooters combining effortless with outbursts of song and show stopping dance numbers.  We had songs and plot ideas and lots of other really lame stuff.  Do I remember lots of specifics?  No, not really and this makes for a fairly shitty blog entry.  But the whole point really wasn't the lame story, it was to introduce you to a character and I did manage to introduce a new character so there.  Goal accomplished.  Day off made productive.  GO ME!

Stay tuned to hear more about Twin Tower.  Also, get ready for our musical to hit Off Broadway soon.  And by Off Broadway I really mean watch for it never.