After seeing the film, my best friend and I left the drive in with open hearts and open minds, until the buzz wore off of course. I began to imagine the movie in my perspective as a Hooters girl. As a young woman in general. It could actually become quite dangerous. But imagine all of the crappy dates I'd be forced to go on. Sheesh.
When I started at Hooters earlier this year, we had somewhere around 90-95 Hooters Girls on our team, including hosts, and certified trainers. Now our team has dwindled down into the low 70s, despite our many recent hires. Management is changing as well. Our GM, my favorite manager, has moved up to corporate and is going around to different locations, trying to help bring up sales at other stores because of his major success with us. But taking his place is the manager who seems to get on well with me, so I'm not going to complain. We've also had two additions to our management force; two newbies, both awesome dudes that regularly compliment my work ethic. Double score. Hopefully this edge keeps me afloat in this sea of chaos.
A few months ago, not long after my hiring, I began to pick out the "usuals" in the restaurant. Among the many, The Cookie Monster stood out most to me. Maybe it was my resentment of being detested by another human by no fault of my own, but for some reason, I felt like I should say something to this guy.
It was late, and there were only four hooters girls left in the restaurant, including the bartender, when the "Cookie Monster" walked in. I'd seen him at the bar regularly, but still had yet to experience any reasoning behind his "name." The last of my tables was getting up to leave and I was finishing up my side work, when one task brought me dangerously close to this man. He looked over and our eyes met. I stopped. Do I say something? Or do I ignore him like he's been ignoring me for the past three months?
"Hey there." I smiled, trying to look occupied. "Hi!" He smiled back. I stopped. Was he really acknowledging me right now? His hard face turned soft, like a nostalgic old man. We exchanged pleasantries. He explained to me that he liked the first three letters of my name because they were the same as the first three letters of his name. Any time I'd walk by him, he's start on about the most random of topics. He could tell me a fact about any place. Specific dates. Important politicians. Animals. Weather. Everything. This guy was about as smart as he was socially inept.
One day he asked if I liked hot sauce, now every time I see him, he has a huge bottle of hot sauce waiting for me. Kind of weird but it beats the evil eye. I'm just glad I get escorted to my car after work every night.
"Why?" You might naively ask. Well Tuesdays are all you can eat wing days at Hooters. As one of the busiest Hooters in the world, it's almost impossible to describe the chaos that ensues. Plates upon plates of all you can eat wings leave the kitchen in record numbers. Ranch dressings are consumed in artery-clogging quantities. We aren't paid nearly enough for the amount of work we do that night. Two "gentlemen" were sat in my section and informed me of an expected 8 people that were to join their party. It took at least an hour for the eight to finally get there, and I had to continually come back to take separate orders. Eventually there were at least 20 people crammed into two tables meant to hold a max of 7 people each. People were standing around eating wings. People who didn't order were eating wings. I had beer orders shouted at me from unknown locations. All in all they were taken care of, until the check came. "Can we all get separate checks?" OK. For everyone who has never dined out before, if you're going out to dinner with 30 of your closest friends, bring cash. It really simplifies things. When the check comes, all you need to do is look at the price of what you ordered, and take that out of your wallet, plus a little extra for a tip of course, because you know your waitress went above and beyond her bullshit tolerance for the evening. Didn't think to bring cash? That's ok! You can always put a CERTAIN AMOUNT on a credit/debit card! Yep that's right folks! You don't HAVE to put the whole bill on one card! Then, when you get the receipt, you can add in the tip to the total and just sign away! It's THAT easy! But please don't expect me to remember all 30 of your orders when you must know I have at least three other tables to look after and you've ordered 5 different types of beer over the course of the evening. I hope you enjoyed my little dining out 101 course.
P.S. If some of your "friends" leave the restaurant without paying their bill, you're stuck footing it. There is no get out of jail free card. If you don't pay for it, your lovely waitress pays for it on top of putting up with all of your shenanigans for the past three hours. So please, just pay the bill and maybe think about getting some new friends.
My close friend, who actually convinced me to apply at Hooters, was fired yesterday. She had received her final write up. The unfortunate thing about working at Hooters is that your write ups stay with you for the length of your employment at the restaurant. Even if you had been there for almost three years like she had. There is no renewal at the end of the year. Your slate is never wiped clean. I've been working at my location for little over three months and so far I've only heard good things. But there are circumstances that can occur that are out of my control. Like being walked out on for example. If that should happen, my options are: 1. keep it to myself and pay their bill or 2. the restaurant takes care of it and I receive a write up. Obviously I'd rather take the hit on my tips rather than receive a write up, but imagine being walked out on a $300 check? I think I'd still rather take the hit than receive a permanent write up. Her firing has reminded me of my mortality in a sense. I need to find some way to make myself more of an asset to the company. Like KH, I should probably let management know that I am interested in becoming a bartender. I should also aim to become a certified trainer, because although more is expected of you, I feel that they are also more likely to give you the benefit of the doubt in most situations. I don't want to lose this job. It's perfect for school. I work half the hours I used to for more pay. I need to be the best if I'm going to end up on top. That's what she said.
So maybe there's one girl I don't particularly like at work. Maybe. I mean, she's ok, but her complete disregard for any self-respect and intelligence just doesn't work with me. To me she's a poseur, completely infatuated with herself. The other day I brought some beers over to a table in the opposite side of the restaurant as my section. The two barnies sitting there did a double take and happily exclaimed, "wow! did you put some make up on and do your hair or something?" "Excuse me..." I replied, rather confused at their statement. Was it a jab at my bad hair days or something? I mean I know I'm not perfect but jeeze... "You're like, way hotter than our other waitress!" Idiot one giggled. "Yeah more like ten times hotter!" Said idiot number two. They hi-fived. "Can you take her place or something?" Wow. I looked around making sure nowbody was listening to this exchange. I politely smiled at them and quickly walked away. I had never heard a guy be that openly rude before. I was uncomfortable. Then curious. Soon I found myself at the host stand looking at the sections. It was her! The one girl I slightly don't like! It was her section. Gasp. The beezy in me doubled over in laughter.
I'm a 21 year old Southern California college student and part time Hooters waitress with too much going on inside my head. I love my family, my friends, and my wonderful boyfriend despite how crazy they all make me. When extreme sports, art, and music don't cut it, I come on here to vent my frustrations or flaunt my happiness. So here it is. Vivaaa!!
Contact me at email@example.com
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