Overheard at Hooters: April 9, 2010

"So, you mean people don't get spring break after college?!"

"Does anyone know who's playing in the Masters this week?"
"Who's the master?"

"Is there chicken in your wings?"

Hey Girl!

"Girl, girl!  Hey, girl!  GIRL!"

I was at the computer putting in an order.  While I heard the man as he called across the restaurant I didn't realize he was talking to me until I got a tap on the shoulder.  The reason was unimportant, in fact I can't even remember.  He probably needed ranch, or decided he wanted the coleslaw over the baked beans, or something else trivial.  What I do remember is realizing that "Girl, girl!  Hey, girl!  GIRL!"  had actually been for me.  I was obviously less than impressed.

Among the things that really bother me, being objectified is right up there at the top.  And I'd say being referred to as "girl" is right there at the top of being objectified.  Especially when I took the time to quite obviously right my name - as well as a nickname - on a napkin carefully placed on the center of your table.  Yes, I have a vagina.  Yes, I am a girl.  But in case you didn't know, they give girls names now and amazingly my parents decided to give me one.  I'm really luck like that.  Even if you don't want to use my quite obviously provided name, there are about a million other things you could say other than girl.  I could have handled miss, ma'am, or even honey.  But not girl.  Would you wander across a restaurant saying, "hey woman"?  No, of course you wouldn't.  It is apparently fine however to call a 25-year-old woman you don't know girl as you rush across a crowed Hooters.  Thanks for that.

Now, I realize most of you would never do this.  Yet, some of you probably will.  Please, I beg of you, please refrain.  Not only do you sound like an idiot, but you look like a total pig.  A douchy, Hooters loving pig.   

A Bad Day at Hooters

We all have our bad days.  One thing after another goes wrong with reckless abandon and try as you may things never seem to get back on track.  This is life.  This is natural.  There is no stopping it.  It is frustrating and annoying and painfully uncomfortable.  But you get through your day on some subtle hope that it will get better.  The afternoon may drag on and the night may suck too, but you hold on to the idea that tomorrow will be better.  You suck it up and you move on.

Today was one of those days.  One of those days that you try to salvage, but it's gone to shit basically before it's even started.  It all began with a Hooters top.  Being out of my size and desperately needing a new top, I was forced to shove my 5'11 frame into a shirt much too small.  So small it was actually painful.  Not a comfortable situation.  The day flew downhill from there.  Needy, crappy tippers, angry girlfriends, cooks that can't read a receipt, assholes, screaming children, Canadians (more on this another time) and pretty much every other annoying, frustrating, angering thing that could happen had to happen today.  All while my circulation was being cut off by an unflattering Hooters top.

I won't regale you with specifics.  We've all had shitty days.  We've all been there.  The circumstances may different, but we know a bad day when we see one.  But there is a difference between a regular bad day and a Hooters bad day.  While a regular bad day can be explained away rather painlessly, a Hooters bad day seems to be a negative reflection on you.  This makes that bad day even worse.  You see, I spend a majority of my time at Hooters dispelling the all to common myth that Hooters Girls are shallow, vapid, idiotic girls that were luck enough to be pretty.  If I have a bad day and mistakes are made (by me or by others) most people immediately assume that Hooters stereotype is true.  If things go wrong I am automatically just a stupid Hooters Girl.  I hate this.

Now, you might think that sounds rather dramatic, but this idea was substantiated throughout my day (and bad days before it) by a number of stupid comments and snarky remarks - the sort of remarks that basically call you stupid without coming out and saying it.  Remarks that say, "yes, there is a reason you are a Hooters Girl."  Remarks that make me feel like a piece of useless shit.

This is why I hate bad days at Hooters.  There is nothing that makes me want to prove myself more than the insinuation that I am stupid.  It makes me feel like I have to play catch up and spend even more time proving my worth as a college graduate and a woman.  And really, I do.  We all do.  Hooters Girls in general spend their days serving wings, pouring beer and proving that the whole "typical Hooters Girl" doesn't exist.  Some days it seems like the world doesn't want you to prove every one wrong.  Those are the days you forget the cheese sticks, or drop coleslaw on a customer, or just fuck up in general.  Those are days like today.

I can't wait for tomorrow. 

Search Terms Will Never Cease to Amaze Me

Recently, this turned up in my search terms:

Can you ask to squeeze boobs of hooter girls?

Seriously?!  What do you think?!  No, you cannot ask to squeeze the boobs of Hooters Girls.  Actually, you can ask, but I can tell you with complete certainty that the answer will be no.  Or hell no.  Or a slap.  Or a hell no accompanied by a slap.  You get the idea.

As often happens with my searches, the main reason I even posted this is because I am fairly astounded that someone would come up with this question let alone take the time to plow through pages upon pages of Google results.  Really?  You were that unsure about this that you took the time to scour the Internet?  Wow, just wow.

Hooters and the Little Old Ladies

They came in giggling.  This is a fairly common female reaction to Hooters.  The door opens, they hear "Hi, welcome to Hooters" and instantly turn fifty shades of red.  This time, however, it was a little different.  These three ladies were old.  When I say old, I mean could be my grandma, 75+ old.  Upon closer examination, they weren't embarrassed, but rather had giggles of surprise as they surveyed the scene before them.  Judging their reaction, it seemed they expected something else entirely as they entered the doors of Hooters.

This is also fairly common.  People have no idea what Hooters is.  They come in unsure what they might find.  They might have heard a few things here and there that generally aren't true.  Rumors and lies and false impressions are all too common.  I probably spend half my time dispelling myths and righting misconceptions.  This wasn't in the job description.

So as I'm approaching the three with bev naps in hand, I am ready to meet a barrage of questions.  I'm ready to explain what were about and why I'm wearing what I'm wearing.  I'm ready to defend my job choice.  I'm ready to defend Hooters.  As I get closer, the alpha grandma looks at me quizzically.  None of my prepared answers for the general questions that a 75-year-old woman would ask could prepare me for what came next.

Alpha Grandma:  "But why aren't you topless?!"

Sauce:  "Oh, we aren't topless here.  Hooters is a family restaurant."

Alpha Grandma:  "Well some Hooters are topless.  Why isn't this a topless one?"

Sauce:  "None of the Hooters restaurants are topless.  It's a pretty innocent place."

Alpha Grandma:  "Are you sure?"

The conversation continued in this general direction as I led them to a sunny booth.  As I set out their napkins and introduced their Hooters Girl, I couldn't help but be amused by the situation.  I mean these cute, little grandmothers thought Hooters was topless and expected Hooters to be topless and STILL came in.  I think that is truly amazing.  I mean, that these seemingly innocent elderly ladies would purposely go to a topless restaurant is refreshing.  What is even more refreshing (and entertaining) is that there was a twang of disappointment when it was obvious we all had shirts on.  Go, old ladies, go!

I hope I'm cool like that when I'm a senior citizen.

Overheard at Hooters: April 3, 2010

"We're here for Happy Hour.  Can you make me happy?"

"What do you spray on your legs to make them look like that?"

Maxim's Hometown Hotties

I meant to post this at the beginning of the week.  But life caught up with me.  By "caught up" I mean it's spring break here which really means that while everyone else is off being fabulous I'm working twice as much.  It's a painful irony.

Anyway, my dear friend, Brittney, is a finalist for Maxim's Hometown Hotties.  Currently, they are doing weekly voting to narrow down the field.  I know the week is almost over, but spare a moment and go vote for her.  She's hot.  Do it.  Do it now.

Ariel's Adventures: Mr Bush

Recently as Ariel was telling me yet another of her amazing work stories, I decided I would star sharing some of them with you.  These will be called Ariel's Adventures and this is hopefully the first of many.

Ariel is a free spirit - hardly your typical Hooters Girl.  Well unless you count the fact that she is tall, thin, gorgeous and bubbly as can be.  Then she is the perfect Hooters Girl.  But beyond being stunning, she's a philosophy major because she wanted to be "an educated and enlightened human being."  That, not so Hooters typical.  This is why I love her.  The aspiring law student and philosophy student at Hooters, hilarity ensues.

Recently, Ariel had a table of men in their late twenties.  Naturally, they wanted beer.  Big beer.  Lots of big beer.  Naturally, Ariel asked for IDs.  Hooters has a policy of IDing anyone who appears thirty-five or under.  Way to follow the rules, Ariel.  Gold star.  As she's checking IDs, she stops at one.  Observing the last name, Ariel cannot help but say something.  This is classic Ariel.

Ariel:  "Bush?  Like the president?"

Bush:  "Yup, just like 'em"

Let me pause here.  The fact that Bush said both "yup" and "'em" in one sentence should have caused Ariel to refrain from making her next comment.  Or the fact that she was in Montana.  But Ariel is a philosophy major.  And from Portland, Oregon.  She couldn't stop.  This is why I love her.

Ariel:  "So are you closed minded like him too?"

Bush:  "EXCUSE ME?!"

Before he even managed to spit something out about being a Republican, Ariel was calmly making her exit from the table.  This is just her style.  Don't worry, because she is (as afore mentioned) tall, thin, gorgeous and bubbly she managed to salvage the situation and play it off like she wasn't a liberal goddess from Oregon and rather just a comedic genius with effortless humor.  She is amazing like this.  I blame it on Socrates.