I feel like I have completely let yall down. I mean, good god, I think I've gone almost a week without updating you. And I know you miss me describing my every day, tedious activities to you. Right?
I knew it. Well rest easy, my precious readers, ill try to do better this week.
I worked a double yesterday. 10 am to 11 at night, and quite honestly this is the only job that I can work a double and not be itching to leave. I find myself surprised by how quickly time goes by and frankly annoyed when the others girls complain about how tired they are. The only thing that bothers me about working so late is coming home to an already passed out boyfriend. But that's a while other slice of pie. Anyways, the day went smoothly (when compared to my others). I only had one complaint but ill get to that.
First off, I want to talk to yall about the girls. Yesterday, at around 11 am, the restaurant slowed almost to a stop. I had one table, a few girls had a table but for the most part we were all completely unoccupied. At hooters, when you have nothing to do and you can possibly make something up, you're required to plaster yourself to the door and scare the living hell out of anybody who walks in the door by screaming in a loud obnoxious voice "hiiii welcome to Hoooooters!". We sound like a boy band trying desperately to tune their voices and from there, we must sieltnly fight over who will take the poor unsuspecting group to their table and start shoving beer and cheese sticks down their throat. (once you get $30 worth of budlight, cheese sticks, vodka or other promotional items, you get a smoke break so by shove, I mean put the cheese stick in there thoughts and stomp it in like inception).
So the girls and I encircles the door and started to chat. somehow, we got on th subject of sex, anal sex, and penis vs. Vagina. I'm really not sure how, but it could have something to do with the fact that 50% of the girls there are lesbians. I know, crazy shit right?! I guess it makes it easier to flirt shamelessly if you REALLY have no interest in the gender you're speaking to. I wouldn't know. I'm the one girl who casually drops mention of the boyfriend when a customer flirts. I'm told, by a few of the girls, that I am the only girl there who can make good tips just while being sweet and not trying to coerce it out of them with winks and giggles. well, thanks girls! yes, I've had men hit on me. Some can be very sweet while others make me think of date rape drugs and shitty apartments, but nonetheless I can hold my own very well. Take yesterday for instance:
I was minding the own business, waiting on the bartender to make (very simple yet it somehow takes her 15 minutes) bud light for my table when the man next to me took a very suggestive glance at me. And my glance I mean tongue out, eyes rolling in the back of his head and something noticeably different about his shorts. He was a young-ish black man, maybe in his thirties though I'm sure his mental capacity was a far plunge below that. I turned my head in his direction (never turn your body to talk to a man that does that. You may not be meaning it, but that body language says "do it!") and asked if I could help in any way. He looked me up and down, licked his lips and replied with "well aren't you a sexy piece of ass". It was all I could do not to have my manager kick his ass. Instead, I smiled a smile that would have warned anybody what was about to happen, picked up beer and very subtly slammed my knee into his nether regions as I walked away. He left not long after and nobody saw. Think he got the point?
Then there was the sweet guy. He was one of my first tables and stayed all night long, drinking beers and obviously ordering things he didn't need, just to keep me coming back.
"can I get you anything?"
"uhm...no...well, wait...can I get a fork?"
"...for your sandwhich?"
He was probably late twenties, oriental and very well off as I could tell from the gold watch on his wrist and the fact that he tipped me 15 bucks for a sandwhich, a beer, and six hours of getting him forks and napkins. Towards the end of the night he got a but more comfortable and decided to buy a calendar if I would sign it. I agreed, brought him his calendar (12.95 at any hooters restaurant and online!) he very quietly asked if I would leave my number as well, adding that he would love to take me to dinner one night.
I couldn't help but smile. After being in a relationship for 6 months, the bf has steadily declined in taking me on dates. I don't really mind though, because movies and nice dinners don't make a relationship. Anyway, I sat down with him and told him I don't five out my number since I'm already in a relationship but that he was welcome to come back and see me anytime. He was a real sweetheart and I'm sure hell get a great girl if he keeps acting like that.
Then, comes the big fish. The huuuuge steaming pile of human feces that happened to sit at my table. He was an older man, maybe in his fourties and obviously involved in the army somehow. Hus companion was much younger and seemed like the quiet type. he didn't talk much while the older man talked my ear off all night. I must have asked him a million times if everything was okay and each time he said that everything was wonderful. It wasn't until I forgot to bring him his limes with his shot of patron that things seemed a little...awkward. Yet, he still insisted in telling me everything was great. He made no complaints all night long and willingly signed his check. He even told me hed come back to see me sometime. Then, as he left, I happened to pick up the check, on which hed written an 8 dollar tip and a note that stated "and you don't derserve that!".
You giant fake douche. If I don't deserve it, don't give it to me. Jesus.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Today is my first day off this week and just happens to be the day after my mock shop at Hooters. Mock shop is basically exactly what it sounds like. Basically, a manager sits at one of my tables and I wait on him, pretending he is a customer. Depending on the manager, its really not that difficult, assuming you can put aside the fact that he is judging your every action and word and will be assigning a score to it all. In my case, I assumed I'd be serving Mr. Not So Slick but fortunately, we recently hired a new manager. He was very nice and once I delivered his food to him, he packed it up and handed it straight back to me as my lunch.
guess who's my favorite manager?!
Anyways, I passed the test and since it was already almost 8 at nightt, my manager went ahead and cut me. I'd been there since 10 that morning so I was entirely grateful to be able to leave early. However, instead of going straight home and changing out of the uniform, I met The Boyfriend at a friends house to watch a few episodes of Dexter and then went home.
Maybe I shouldn't keep saying "home". The place I keep going to every night is actually The Boyfriends house. I live in a small apartment by myself and so every night I end up sleeping at his house. Maybe its because I hate being alone, maybe I love him so much that I hate be away from him or maybe its a little of both. Who knows. However, a few nights ago, The Boyfriend and I got into a small "spat.". I told him I was wanting a dog and that I'd found a weimeraner mix named axel at a local shelter. He got upset, said no because the dog would be at his house constantly to which I replied that it would be at my house with me. That once I pay next months rent, ill be forced to stay at my house otherwise paying rent would be pointless. I made a joke that unless he asked me to move in with him, I'd be going home rather often. His reply was "ok"
I'm sorry...what?!
My instant thinking was "did he just day 'no you can't get a dog' and thenn ask me to move in? Because that's what it sounded like. Anyways, in a dazed rush, I tweeted that he The Boyfriend had asked me to move in. in any case, The Boyfriend somehow found the link to my twitter and read that tweet. While I was washing dishes we got into a big fight over texting with him saying he hadn't asked me to move in and me countering with saying that I knew that, and when I sent the tweet I was confused. I knew better now. after we both said some mean things, we let it go and once I got home everything seemed to be forgotten. It was a case of misunderstanding and we both accepted it. And anyways, we love each other too much for something like that to tear us apart.
Well, My friend Melissa is coming into town and were going to check out some shelters and the pound in my ever ongoing search for a puppy. This where I bid you goodbye, until next post ;)
guess who's my favorite manager?!
Anyways, I passed the test and since it was already almost 8 at nightt, my manager went ahead and cut me. I'd been there since 10 that morning so I was entirely grateful to be able to leave early. However, instead of going straight home and changing out of the uniform, I met The Boyfriend at a friends house to watch a few episodes of Dexter and then went home.
Maybe I shouldn't keep saying "home". The place I keep going to every night is actually The Boyfriends house. I live in a small apartment by myself and so every night I end up sleeping at his house. Maybe its because I hate being alone, maybe I love him so much that I hate be away from him or maybe its a little of both. Who knows. However, a few nights ago, The Boyfriend and I got into a small "spat.". I told him I was wanting a dog and that I'd found a weimeraner mix named axel at a local shelter. He got upset, said no because the dog would be at his house constantly to which I replied that it would be at my house with me. That once I pay next months rent, ill be forced to stay at my house otherwise paying rent would be pointless. I made a joke that unless he asked me to move in with him, I'd be going home rather often. His reply was "ok"
I'm sorry...what?!
My instant thinking was "did he just day 'no you can't get a dog' and thenn ask me to move in? Because that's what it sounded like. Anyways, in a dazed rush, I tweeted that he The Boyfriend had asked me to move in. in any case, The Boyfriend somehow found the link to my twitter and read that tweet. While I was washing dishes we got into a big fight over texting with him saying he hadn't asked me to move in and me countering with saying that I knew that, and when I sent the tweet I was confused. I knew better now. after we both said some mean things, we let it go and once I got home everything seemed to be forgotten. It was a case of misunderstanding and we both accepted it. And anyways, we love each other too much for something like that to tear us apart.
Well, My friend Melissa is coming into town and were going to check out some shelters and the pound in my ever ongoing search for a puppy. This where I bid you goodbye, until next post ;)
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
snowstorms and funerals
The last three days have been some of the busiest and worst for me. I'll give you the bad news first.
I think I've mentioned my pet pig, Corky, a few times before. He was a miniature potbelly pig that The Boyfriend had gotten me for Christmas (since I'd practically been begging for one) and he was THE sweetest thing. He was my baby. Anyways, I'd been working alot and was scheduled to be at Hooters all day sunday (the 9th) so I asked The Boyfriend to hang out with Pig, as we very fondly called him in many variations. He said he would, since he was getting his 5 year old daughter that day and wouldn't have to work. So I guess the two of them spent all day with Pig (his daughter LOVED him), taking him on car rides and feeding him multiple times in the day. he was never outside. I didn't get home from Hooters until around 6 or so and it very quickly got dark. Stupidly, I didn't think to go look for Pig and bring him inside. HOWEVER, it was quickly brought to my attention that central georgia was expecting a monster of a snowstorm that night, so of course I had to go find him. As I walked onto the deck, I saw Pig had pushed the gate away from the deck steps and was no longer in his little area. No big deal, he did that constantly, but he usually took cover under the deck until I got home. I stood on the deck and called his name for something like 15 minutes and when I didnt hear my sweetie snorting and running up the stairs, I got worried. I searched high and low, all over the yard, in ever corner and under every bush; No Corky. Finally, I enlisted the help of The Boyfriend as I was nearly in tears at this point.
"baby, Pig's gone."
"what?!"
"I can't find him. He got off the decxk again and he's not coming when I call him"
"shit"
The Boyfriend grabbed a flashlight and for the next two hours we walked up and down the yard looking for my sweet pig. Nothing. Not even a snort. Finally, we decided he must have known the storm was coming, burrowed under some leaves, and that he'd pop up in the morning. I had to be up early for work and so did The Boyfriend, so we called off the search for the night. That wasn't the end. As I turned around to go back up on the deck I heard The Boyfriend say something that sounded like "Oh my God..." He was pointing his flashlight into a tiny hole built into the cement, next to the pool. It was something of a drainage hole, made completely of cement that filled with water at the bottom and then t-ed off until it came out on the side of the pool. Poor Corky had fallen in, gotten stuck and eventually, passed away. How? I do not know. WHY? I couldn't tell you that either. All I know was that he was cold to the touch when I went to "wake him up" and I instantly started crying. I couldn't look at him and I certantly couldnt touch him again. God only knew how long he'd been there.
The Boyfriend was almost more upset than I was, and actually cried (which amazed me. he's not one for showing much emotion.) It was a sad moment, but all i could think was that if I'd just gone to check on him when I got home or sent david out to see how he was while I was at work, I'd still be the proud mommy off a little black piglet with white feet. I miss him so much, and so far, I've dreamed about him every night. I dont think I'll get another pet for awhile.
In other news, Central Georgia has practically been blown off the map the past two days. I woke up to snow and ice covering practically everything AND Hooters closed their doors at 4:00, so I wasn't required to go in. It was also mine and The Boyfriends 6 month anniversary, so we spent the day playing in the snow and cuddling up watching movies. We had been planning on a nice formal dinner and maybe a movie, but since we we're snowed in, that wasn't really possible. Despite that, it was THE perfect way to spend my anniversary; Just sitting around with the guy I love, being able to kiss him whenever I darn well please. And not having to don the orange shorts, hah!
Today, I was schedued to work at 10 am. So I slipped into my uniform and proceeded to chip the 2 inches of ice that had built up on my car over the past two nights. However, when i actually pulled into Hooters, I was the only one there. I waited around for about a half hour to 45 minutes and when nobody called me or came to tell me we were closed, I just assumed the doors were shut and drove away. So, here I am now. At starbucks, typing this. Aren't you glad?
Nothing else is really going on. Hopefully we'll be open tomorrow so I can finish my training and load up on interesting things to tell you. I did get into some problems on my last shift though. Theres a table of regulars (mainly Chef and Walt) who sit in the exact same place on a daily basis and stay until we close (usually). Today, I was closing out my tables and happened to be walking by theirs. A man grabbed my arm, put a hand on top of my head and pushed me down, trying to see the top of my head. I laughed it off, he laughed and said...
"you a natural blonde?"
"no sir" I chirped "you just looked right at my dark brown roots"
I laughed. he laughed. whatever.
and THEN, he continued to say "Well, I'd like to see the top of your head later tonight" and winked at me.
Okay, first of all EW. second of all BARF. And thirdly, does this man talk to his grandkids with his mouth? I mean, I'm probably young enough to BE one of his grandkids. So...fucking EW. I kindof chuckled and made an excuse to leave the table, while his actual Hooters Girl frowned at me and told me "not to be so sensetive."
Back up bitch.
Ugh. People sometimes. I don't believe I had anhy other interesting news, so I'll leave it here. The Boyfriend is leaving work because of the ice as well, so we're going to Cracker Barrel and then cuddling up in bed together. Sweet Dreams :)
I think I've mentioned my pet pig, Corky, a few times before. He was a miniature potbelly pig that The Boyfriend had gotten me for Christmas (since I'd practically been begging for one) and he was THE sweetest thing. He was my baby. Anyways, I'd been working alot and was scheduled to be at Hooters all day sunday (the 9th) so I asked The Boyfriend to hang out with Pig, as we very fondly called him in many variations. He said he would, since he was getting his 5 year old daughter that day and wouldn't have to work. So I guess the two of them spent all day with Pig (his daughter LOVED him), taking him on car rides and feeding him multiple times in the day. he was never outside. I didn't get home from Hooters until around 6 or so and it very quickly got dark. Stupidly, I didn't think to go look for Pig and bring him inside. HOWEVER, it was quickly brought to my attention that central georgia was expecting a monster of a snowstorm that night, so of course I had to go find him. As I walked onto the deck, I saw Pig had pushed the gate away from the deck steps and was no longer in his little area. No big deal, he did that constantly, but he usually took cover under the deck until I got home. I stood on the deck and called his name for something like 15 minutes and when I didnt hear my sweetie snorting and running up the stairs, I got worried. I searched high and low, all over the yard, in ever corner and under every bush; No Corky. Finally, I enlisted the help of The Boyfriend as I was nearly in tears at this point.
"baby, Pig's gone."
"what?!"
"I can't find him. He got off the decxk again and he's not coming when I call him"
"shit"
The Boyfriend grabbed a flashlight and for the next two hours we walked up and down the yard looking for my sweet pig. Nothing. Not even a snort. Finally, we decided he must have known the storm was coming, burrowed under some leaves, and that he'd pop up in the morning. I had to be up early for work and so did The Boyfriend, so we called off the search for the night. That wasn't the end. As I turned around to go back up on the deck I heard The Boyfriend say something that sounded like "Oh my God..." He was pointing his flashlight into a tiny hole built into the cement, next to the pool. It was something of a drainage hole, made completely of cement that filled with water at the bottom and then t-ed off until it came out on the side of the pool. Poor Corky had fallen in, gotten stuck and eventually, passed away. How? I do not know. WHY? I couldn't tell you that either. All I know was that he was cold to the touch when I went to "wake him up" and I instantly started crying. I couldn't look at him and I certantly couldnt touch him again. God only knew how long he'd been there.
The Boyfriend was almost more upset than I was, and actually cried (which amazed me. he's not one for showing much emotion.) It was a sad moment, but all i could think was that if I'd just gone to check on him when I got home or sent david out to see how he was while I was at work, I'd still be the proud mommy off a little black piglet with white feet. I miss him so much, and so far, I've dreamed about him every night. I dont think I'll get another pet for awhile.
In other news, Central Georgia has practically been blown off the map the past two days. I woke up to snow and ice covering practically everything AND Hooters closed their doors at 4:00, so I wasn't required to go in. It was also mine and The Boyfriends 6 month anniversary, so we spent the day playing in the snow and cuddling up watching movies. We had been planning on a nice formal dinner and maybe a movie, but since we we're snowed in, that wasn't really possible. Despite that, it was THE perfect way to spend my anniversary; Just sitting around with the guy I love, being able to kiss him whenever I darn well please. And not having to don the orange shorts, hah!
Today, I was schedued to work at 10 am. So I slipped into my uniform and proceeded to chip the 2 inches of ice that had built up on my car over the past two nights. However, when i actually pulled into Hooters, I was the only one there. I waited around for about a half hour to 45 minutes and when nobody called me or came to tell me we were closed, I just assumed the doors were shut and drove away. So, here I am now. At starbucks, typing this. Aren't you glad?
Nothing else is really going on. Hopefully we'll be open tomorrow so I can finish my training and load up on interesting things to tell you. I did get into some problems on my last shift though. Theres a table of regulars (mainly Chef and Walt) who sit in the exact same place on a daily basis and stay until we close (usually). Today, I was closing out my tables and happened to be walking by theirs. A man grabbed my arm, put a hand on top of my head and pushed me down, trying to see the top of my head. I laughed it off, he laughed and said...
"you a natural blonde?"
"no sir" I chirped "you just looked right at my dark brown roots"
I laughed. he laughed. whatever.
and THEN, he continued to say "Well, I'd like to see the top of your head later tonight" and winked at me.
Okay, first of all EW. second of all BARF. And thirdly, does this man talk to his grandkids with his mouth? I mean, I'm probably young enough to BE one of his grandkids. So...fucking EW. I kindof chuckled and made an excuse to leave the table, while his actual Hooters Girl frowned at me and told me "not to be so sensetive."
Back up bitch.
Ugh. People sometimes. I don't believe I had anhy other interesting news, so I'll leave it here. The Boyfriend is leaving work because of the ice as well, so we're going to Cracker Barrel and then cuddling up in bed together. Sweet Dreams :)
Saturday, January 8, 2011
laundry list of issues
Today is laundry day.
oooooh, bring on the pain.
This time, not only did I have to wash all my clothes and all of The Boyfriend's clothes (which, I'd like to let it be known that he has something like 4 times more clothes than I do. I survive with maybbe two loads of laundry. He fills up three baskets of all different things. what does he do? Come back and change four times after I leave? jeez) I also had to wash my work uniform. Its more complicated than it seems, I promise.
-The shirts have to air dry, otherwise they will shrink. (They're already the size of childrens shirts. How much smaller could the possibly get?!) They also have to have bleach poured onto the under arms in case stains may be present, but NEVER on the owl. (good god.)
-The nylons have to be washed by hand. (ew...I refuse to elaborate on that.)
-The shorts must be washed BY THEMSELVES (there are only three of them, so theres one load) and must air dry (somehow the dryer manages to make them fuzzy and turn them a peach color. Sorry Dryer, but Hooters wants my ass to look like a huge orange, not a peach. who knew.)
-The pouches must also be washed and starched (starched? are you serious? Do you think they're going to blow in the wind in the almost always empty hooters and show off the fact that i have a vagina? I assure you, all the guys that eat there already know that fact. and your ass-crack inducing shorts don't really keep much to the imagination)
so anyways, I brought 3 baskets of laundry. I washed, hung up, starched and dried all that apply and just now, went to unload the very last load. something stopped me. There was a very obvious lack of room for the last load of The Boyfriends clothing. 3 full baskets surrounding me, all of which were mostly overflowing, and I'm standing there looking like an idiot with a load of socks and collared shirts hanging off of me like drapes. I guess the point of this post is this:
How the HELL do I start off with three baskets and end up needing a fourth?? Does dirty clothing somehow take up less space than clean ones? or is every inanimate object I own just fucking with me?
ugh. time for the hour drive back to macon and a 10 am shift at Hooters tomorrow (woohoo!). wish me luck and tips!
oooooh, bring on the pain.
This time, not only did I have to wash all my clothes and all of The Boyfriend's clothes (which, I'd like to let it be known that he has something like 4 times more clothes than I do. I survive with maybbe two loads of laundry. He fills up three baskets of all different things. what does he do? Come back and change four times after I leave? jeez) I also had to wash my work uniform. Its more complicated than it seems, I promise.
-The shirts have to air dry, otherwise they will shrink. (They're already the size of childrens shirts. How much smaller could the possibly get?!) They also have to have bleach poured onto the under arms in case stains may be present, but NEVER on the owl. (good god.)
-The nylons have to be washed by hand. (ew...I refuse to elaborate on that.)
-The shorts must be washed BY THEMSELVES (there are only three of them, so theres one load) and must air dry (somehow the dryer manages to make them fuzzy and turn them a peach color. Sorry Dryer, but Hooters wants my ass to look like a huge orange, not a peach. who knew.)
-The pouches must also be washed and starched (starched? are you serious? Do you think they're going to blow in the wind in the almost always empty hooters and show off the fact that i have a vagina? I assure you, all the guys that eat there already know that fact. and your ass-crack inducing shorts don't really keep much to the imagination)
so anyways, I brought 3 baskets of laundry. I washed, hung up, starched and dried all that apply and just now, went to unload the very last load. something stopped me. There was a very obvious lack of room for the last load of The Boyfriends clothing. 3 full baskets surrounding me, all of which were mostly overflowing, and I'm standing there looking like an idiot with a load of socks and collared shirts hanging off of me like drapes. I guess the point of this post is this:
How the HELL do I start off with three baskets and end up needing a fourth?? Does dirty clothing somehow take up less space than clean ones? or is every inanimate object I own just fucking with me?
ugh. time for the hour drive back to macon and a 10 am shift at Hooters tomorrow (woohoo!). wish me luck and tips!
Mr. Kenneth Tong and "Managed Anorexia"
If you go onto twitter, you pretty much know what you'll see right?
A bunch of people making descriptive 140 character sentences frequently throughout to day to let people know what is going on in thier lives, though i doubt very many people are listening.
Yes, I use it.
yes, I endorse it.
For me, it is a stress reliever. It is the one place that my parents and other elders do not see on a daily basis (unlike facebook) where I can voice my opinions and not feel as though I will get beratted. Now, i have this blog, but I'll still use Twitter, just because well...si simply like it. so sue me. However, there are some very shady people typing up those 140 character sentences. Take, for instance Mr. Kenneth Tong.
Mr. Tong is a self proclaimed “Hong Kong playboy” who spent six days on the cast of the British version of “Big Brother” back in 2009. Or at least this is what I gather. Recently, he has found a new way of gathering attention: Managed Anorexa.
You have got to shitting me...
One of his tweets states "Only the thin truly win. My Size Zero Pill will change lives, it’s like the modern day Schindler’s List. Will I be your salvation?"
(really. this nut is actually using jewish holocaust information to make people listen to him.)
He also goes on to say things like "to be thin is to be perfect and to be fat is unnaceptable" and telling people who write to him about their struggles with anorexia that "had your anorexia been supervised, you’d have been fine."
Yeah, because THATS what needs to happen. While a good amount of americans are very overweight and do need to think about their health, "managed Anorexia" is the very last thing that needs to happen. And, I don't think I even need to begin to say that there are plenty of girls out there who are naturally a size 0 and are very healthy, just as there are girls (like myself) who are NOT a size zero and are healthy. The number on the back of your pants or dress does not tell your health. A woman who is a size 4 can be much more unhealthy than a woman who is a size 12. so where is this guy getting this stuff?
Obviously, he was beat by an overweight woman as a child and still harbors resentment.
Here's my question though: Who's doing the supervising? Obviously, it cannot be the person dieting, because then it reverts back to plain old anorexia. And it sure as hell isn't going to be Tong, because he cannot be everywhere at once. And if there really isn't anybody "managing" this disease for all the young girls who want to try it, then he's actually marketing a disease that has killed thousands of women (and men, I believe). So, I'd love to know how this works. Does this guy have drones who travel the world to make sure girls aren't eating? Or is he just some quack who thinks this will get the worlds attention about our obesity?
I'm betting its the latter.
I'm going to think on this, and hopefully someone can figure out some way to shut him down. because there HAS to be a way. and this is just NOT okay.
if you have any ideas or you have something to say on the subject (wether you agree with me or Mr. Quac- I mean Tong), then please, comment on my blog.
A bunch of people making descriptive 140 character sentences frequently throughout to day to let people know what is going on in thier lives, though i doubt very many people are listening.
Yes, I use it.
yes, I endorse it.
For me, it is a stress reliever. It is the one place that my parents and other elders do not see on a daily basis (unlike facebook) where I can voice my opinions and not feel as though I will get beratted. Now, i have this blog, but I'll still use Twitter, just because well...si simply like it. so sue me. However, there are some very shady people typing up those 140 character sentences. Take, for instance Mr. Kenneth Tong.
Mr. Tong is a self proclaimed “Hong Kong playboy” who spent six days on the cast of the British version of “Big Brother” back in 2009. Or at least this is what I gather. Recently, he has found a new way of gathering attention: Managed Anorexa.
You have got to shitting me...
One of his tweets states "Only the thin truly win. My Size Zero Pill will change lives, it’s like the modern day Schindler’s List. Will I be your salvation?"
(really. this nut is actually using jewish holocaust information to make people listen to him.)
He also goes on to say things like "to be thin is to be perfect and to be fat is unnaceptable" and telling people who write to him about their struggles with anorexia that "had your anorexia been supervised, you’d have been fine."
Yeah, because THATS what needs to happen. While a good amount of americans are very overweight and do need to think about their health, "managed Anorexia" is the very last thing that needs to happen. And, I don't think I even need to begin to say that there are plenty of girls out there who are naturally a size 0 and are very healthy, just as there are girls (like myself) who are NOT a size zero and are healthy. The number on the back of your pants or dress does not tell your health. A woman who is a size 4 can be much more unhealthy than a woman who is a size 12. so where is this guy getting this stuff?
Obviously, he was beat by an overweight woman as a child and still harbors resentment.
Here's my question though: Who's doing the supervising? Obviously, it cannot be the person dieting, because then it reverts back to plain old anorexia. And it sure as hell isn't going to be Tong, because he cannot be everywhere at once. And if there really isn't anybody "managing" this disease for all the young girls who want to try it, then he's actually marketing a disease that has killed thousands of women (and men, I believe). So, I'd love to know how this works. Does this guy have drones who travel the world to make sure girls aren't eating? Or is he just some quack who thinks this will get the worlds attention about our obesity?
I'm betting its the latter.
I'm going to think on this, and hopefully someone can figure out some way to shut him down. because there HAS to be a way. and this is just NOT okay.
if you have any ideas or you have something to say on the subject (wether you agree with me or Mr. Quac- I mean Tong), then please, comment on my blog.
marriage proposals, policemen, photographers and tests.
Last night was probably the most interesting night for me, at Hooters, since I've started there. It started out pretty slowly. Alicia and I clocked in at the same time, not sure if we were supposed to clock in on our own or wait on one of the managers, then we waited. It wasn't long before we realized none of the other Hooters girls were anywhere around, so we went into the back office to find Mr. Not So Slick. he told us Jump Start had started and THATS where we needed to be.
Well duh, but where is it at??
He pointed us in the right direction and we slowly made our way back there in that awkward "we're-the-new-girls" way that is blatantly distracting. There were 4 girls already back there and the meeting was under way, so we slipped into some seats and listened. The man conducting the meeting was a manager who had flown in from another Hooters (I didnt catch which one) and once again, happened to be an asian man that i couldn't understand. What is it with this place and asian people that barely speak english? Anyways, when he said his name it sounded like Kevlar, so I guess that'll be his new nickname. Although, we'll have to wait and see if he really is anything like the bullet-proof kevlar material. In the middle of the meeting, another Hooters girl decided to join us. Everyone in the store calls her Cheerleader because of her...well...lack of common sense and distinct ignorance. And I think it must have something to do with the hot pink cheerleading sweatpants. Just maybeee. Alicia and I were informed that if you are late to Jump Start, you are forced to close, even if its not your shift. I think thats great! It will encourage me to never ever be late, which is something I need, because attendance is a big problem for me. So Jump start ended pretty quickly, Alicia and I were paired up with our trainers and the night started off....at a crawl. This is, however, where it starts to get good.
(Oh, btw, on Friday nights we are supposed to wear an all black uniform, which neither me nor Alicia were supplied with. Luckily they had some in the back. Unluckily, they only had a size xxs in the black shorts, so I have permanant divets in my hips where the shorts dug into my skin. Not comfy. I do, however, like the black uniform better. Its easier to look like you fit into them, for some reason)
My Trainer is an incredibly sweet, very pretty girl who is just a few years older than me. And she's pregnant, which took me by surprise bigggg time, so we'll call her Baby Mama. She does not in any way look pregnant, but she is only 9 weeks along. I'll keep you updated as much as I can on that (slightly controversial) subject. Alicia was partnered with a different girl, who we'll call Beanpole, mainly because she's so tall and skinny that I'm almost afraid she'll break if she bends over. Not to say she's not also sweet. Most of the girls there are very nice, with the exception of a few. We started off with the tables test (incredibly easy) and then went onto the Hooters Hospitality Test (also incredibly easy) and then my section got sat (which means I got a table. Go me for knowing restaurant lingo, eh?) My very first table was a mom, dad and their daughter. They ordered wings, the dad got a few beers and they left, all within 30 minutes. The next table we got was a group of ten men, ranging between ages 25 and 45. Baby Mama asked me to write down the drink orders, so I did and when they asked for alcohol, we checked all ID's. (later, Baby Mama pulled me aside and told me they were all cops and cops-in-training, so it was a good thing we did check their licenses.) As the night went on, the Cops-In-Training ;drank a little more and definitely got more comfortable. The big story for them comes as I was leaving, so I'll elaborate on that in a few.
In the first few hours of the night, I noticed an older man asking a few of the girls for pictures. they stopped, smiled and let him snap a few before returning back to work but none of them stopped to chat with him. At one point, he stopped me, Alicia and beanpole and asked for a picture. we complied and when i tried to have a conversation with him, beanpole hurried me over to the Wait Station.
"God he's so aggravating!" she grumbled.
I couldn't really understand the problem, so I asked her what was so annoying about it.
"he just constantly does that when we're trying to work. I can't take it!"
obviously, she missed the part of the handbook that said it was our job to do this sort of thing. oh well.
Later on I found my way back to the man and sat to walk with him. he took a few more shots of me and promised to come and sit at my table once I was waitressing on my own. Score! more tips for me. Take that beanpole.
the rest of the night went smoothly. I got increasingly more comfortable and started to joke with some of the customers, mainly the table of 10. They were just so much fun! When they finally paid, a man handed Baby Mama his credit card and the man sitting next to him urged us to check out the picture on it. It was the man and his wife's wedding picture. Thats true dedication isn't it?
"He ain't getting anywhere with that" one of the guys laughed and the rest of them gave him shit for it all night. So did I, but secretly I thought it was kind of cute. I bet his wife feels the same way.
Now, for the best story of the night! As it got closer to closing time, I was told I wouldn't be closing up and that my trainer and i should cash out our tables (we'd had 4 in total). Once done with that, we could order some food, clock out, change into regular clothing and go home. Finally. I was absolutely exhausted! So with the tables done, I changed, clocked out and started to walk towards the front door. The Cops-In-Training had moved to the bar (all except for one guy) and as I walked by I started to talk with them for a second, asking how everything was and telling them they'd have to come back.
"hey, our buddy over there (he pointed to the one guy still at the table) is just about in love with you"
"really?" I asked "we'll then, I'm gonna have to go say goodbye to him specifically then aren't I?"
I walked to the guy still sitting at the table, thanked him for coming and asked if I could have a hug goodbye, because I was off the clock and heading home. he hugged me and offered to buy me a beer, which i turned down because...well, they were cops and I'm under age. and I just really wanted to get home to my boyfriend.
"well, can i ask you if you're going to school around here then?"
I'm not, but its much easier just to tell them I am.
"I'm going for Culinary arts"
His mouth just about hit the floor.
"you can COOK?! will you please marry me?"
I laughed and said "only if you promise to come back and sit in my section again."
Fortunately, they were all from out of town and won't be coming back for quite some time, so I don't think I'll need to hold that promise very high. I finally excused myself, told them all they were my very favorite table and left.
My night officially ended cuddled up with my boyfriend, munching on reese's ice cream and watching him play black ops. Or maybe I should say trying to watch him play, since I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Well duh, but where is it at??
He pointed us in the right direction and we slowly made our way back there in that awkward "we're-the-new-girls" way that is blatantly distracting. There were 4 girls already back there and the meeting was under way, so we slipped into some seats and listened. The man conducting the meeting was a manager who had flown in from another Hooters (I didnt catch which one) and once again, happened to be an asian man that i couldn't understand. What is it with this place and asian people that barely speak english? Anyways, when he said his name it sounded like Kevlar, so I guess that'll be his new nickname. Although, we'll have to wait and see if he really is anything like the bullet-proof kevlar material. In the middle of the meeting, another Hooters girl decided to join us. Everyone in the store calls her Cheerleader because of her...well...lack of common sense and distinct ignorance. And I think it must have something to do with the hot pink cheerleading sweatpants. Just maybeee. Alicia and I were informed that if you are late to Jump Start, you are forced to close, even if its not your shift. I think thats great! It will encourage me to never ever be late, which is something I need, because attendance is a big problem for me. So Jump start ended pretty quickly, Alicia and I were paired up with our trainers and the night started off....at a crawl. This is, however, where it starts to get good.
(Oh, btw, on Friday nights we are supposed to wear an all black uniform, which neither me nor Alicia were supplied with. Luckily they had some in the back. Unluckily, they only had a size xxs in the black shorts, so I have permanant divets in my hips where the shorts dug into my skin. Not comfy. I do, however, like the black uniform better. Its easier to look like you fit into them, for some reason)
My Trainer is an incredibly sweet, very pretty girl who is just a few years older than me. And she's pregnant, which took me by surprise bigggg time, so we'll call her Baby Mama. She does not in any way look pregnant, but she is only 9 weeks along. I'll keep you updated as much as I can on that (slightly controversial) subject. Alicia was partnered with a different girl, who we'll call Beanpole, mainly because she's so tall and skinny that I'm almost afraid she'll break if she bends over. Not to say she's not also sweet. Most of the girls there are very nice, with the exception of a few. We started off with the tables test (incredibly easy) and then went onto the Hooters Hospitality Test (also incredibly easy) and then my section got sat (which means I got a table. Go me for knowing restaurant lingo, eh?) My very first table was a mom, dad and their daughter. They ordered wings, the dad got a few beers and they left, all within 30 minutes. The next table we got was a group of ten men, ranging between ages 25 and 45. Baby Mama asked me to write down the drink orders, so I did and when they asked for alcohol, we checked all ID's. (later, Baby Mama pulled me aside and told me they were all cops and cops-in-training, so it was a good thing we did check their licenses.) As the night went on, the Cops-In-Training ;drank a little more and definitely got more comfortable. The big story for them comes as I was leaving, so I'll elaborate on that in a few.
In the first few hours of the night, I noticed an older man asking a few of the girls for pictures. they stopped, smiled and let him snap a few before returning back to work but none of them stopped to chat with him. At one point, he stopped me, Alicia and beanpole and asked for a picture. we complied and when i tried to have a conversation with him, beanpole hurried me over to the Wait Station.
"God he's so aggravating!" she grumbled.
I couldn't really understand the problem, so I asked her what was so annoying about it.
"he just constantly does that when we're trying to work. I can't take it!"
obviously, she missed the part of the handbook that said it was our job to do this sort of thing. oh well.
Later on I found my way back to the man and sat to walk with him. he took a few more shots of me and promised to come and sit at my table once I was waitressing on my own. Score! more tips for me. Take that beanpole.
the rest of the night went smoothly. I got increasingly more comfortable and started to joke with some of the customers, mainly the table of 10. They were just so much fun! When they finally paid, a man handed Baby Mama his credit card and the man sitting next to him urged us to check out the picture on it. It was the man and his wife's wedding picture. Thats true dedication isn't it?
"He ain't getting anywhere with that" one of the guys laughed and the rest of them gave him shit for it all night. So did I, but secretly I thought it was kind of cute. I bet his wife feels the same way.
Now, for the best story of the night! As it got closer to closing time, I was told I wouldn't be closing up and that my trainer and i should cash out our tables (we'd had 4 in total). Once done with that, we could order some food, clock out, change into regular clothing and go home. Finally. I was absolutely exhausted! So with the tables done, I changed, clocked out and started to walk towards the front door. The Cops-In-Training had moved to the bar (all except for one guy) and as I walked by I started to talk with them for a second, asking how everything was and telling them they'd have to come back.
"hey, our buddy over there (he pointed to the one guy still at the table) is just about in love with you"
"really?" I asked "we'll then, I'm gonna have to go say goodbye to him specifically then aren't I?"
I walked to the guy still sitting at the table, thanked him for coming and asked if I could have a hug goodbye, because I was off the clock and heading home. he hugged me and offered to buy me a beer, which i turned down because...well, they were cops and I'm under age. and I just really wanted to get home to my boyfriend.
"well, can i ask you if you're going to school around here then?"
I'm not, but its much easier just to tell them I am.
"I'm going for Culinary arts"
His mouth just about hit the floor.
"you can COOK?! will you please marry me?"
I laughed and said "only if you promise to come back and sit in my section again."
Fortunately, they were all from out of town and won't be coming back for quite some time, so I don't think I'll need to hold that promise very high. I finally excused myself, told them all they were my very favorite table and left.
My night officially ended cuddled up with my boyfriend, munching on reese's ice cream and watching him play black ops. Or maybe I should say trying to watch him play, since I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
Friday, January 7, 2011
ahh, silly me!
I completely forgot to let you know how my first day of training went! Well have no fear, The Hooters girl is here. Kidding. stop grimacing at my bad joke.
The day started out exactly the same as the last. My coworker and I were seated at another back table. we sat and chatted for a bit, kind of warmed up to each other, and I think we may end up being great friends! Since i can't think of a nickname for her, I'm just going to have to call her Alicia. Anyways, eventually we were tracked down by a very done up asian lady. She must have had 4 different shade of eyeshadow on, but you could hardly tell since her entire eyelid was (literally, I do not joke) covered in liquid eyeliner. I'm talking from eyelashes to that very minimal crease that asians seem to have. She obviously didn't speak English very well, so I was a little skeptical. Alicia voiced later that she seemed very rigid. sweet, but strict, and I very much agree. She is a nice girl but seemed very uncomfortable training us. No matter, she got the job done. Roots calls her The Crazy Asian Lady so i guess I will too.
For a full six hours, we sat around a table, read a manual, and filled out worksheets. Once, she corralled us into walking the floor and talking to customers while she helped deliver food. It was a little awkward but the man we talked to was very sweet and there was a family having a birthday, so it was a nice atmosphere to walk into. The other girls there are super sweet! Every single one of them said hey to us and they all told us goodnight when we left. All in all, it wasn't too eventful. Today I believe we get individual trainers who start us on the floor! yippee!
I'm going to try as hard as I can to keep updating this every day before i go in, or every night after I get off, but its going to be tough. The Boyfriend doesn't have internet and the ONLY thing I want to do when I get home is peel off my uniform and fall into bed. however, i will do mhy best.
The day started out exactly the same as the last. My coworker and I were seated at another back table. we sat and chatted for a bit, kind of warmed up to each other, and I think we may end up being great friends! Since i can't think of a nickname for her, I'm just going to have to call her Alicia. Anyways, eventually we were tracked down by a very done up asian lady. She must have had 4 different shade of eyeshadow on, but you could hardly tell since her entire eyelid was (literally, I do not joke) covered in liquid eyeliner. I'm talking from eyelashes to that very minimal crease that asians seem to have. She obviously didn't speak English very well, so I was a little skeptical. Alicia voiced later that she seemed very rigid. sweet, but strict, and I very much agree. She is a nice girl but seemed very uncomfortable training us. No matter, she got the job done. Roots calls her The Crazy Asian Lady so i guess I will too.
For a full six hours, we sat around a table, read a manual, and filled out worksheets. Once, she corralled us into walking the floor and talking to customers while she helped deliver food. It was a little awkward but the man we talked to was very sweet and there was a family having a birthday, so it was a nice atmosphere to walk into. The other girls there are super sweet! Every single one of them said hey to us and they all told us goodnight when we left. All in all, it wasn't too eventful. Today I believe we get individual trainers who start us on the floor! yippee!
I'm going to try as hard as I can to keep updating this every day before i go in, or every night after I get off, but its going to be tough. The Boyfriend doesn't have internet and the ONLY thing I want to do when I get home is peel off my uniform and fall into bed. however, i will do mhy best.
landmark of the day
I have my very first follower!
Granted, it is one of my very best friends, but hey! Its still counts and I'm still super excited :)
In other news, yesterday was my first official day in uniform and I feel I didn't do my job in describing my uniform with that last post so here we go.
The Hooters girl uniform consists of 5 parts: tank top, shorts, nylons, socks and shoes.
The tank top is the worst part, hands down. Made of white lycra, it starts out about 4 sizes too small and stretches to fit. Kind of reminds me of those dehydrated toys, the dinosaurs and bugs that kids used to get; stick them in water and they expand until you can see detail. yes, THAT is a Hooters t-shirt. When you look at one of these, your first instinct is to laugh and ask for a bigger size, but don't let the size fool you. You'll squeeze yourself into it and feel like a whale within minutes. I have my problems with the tank, but being that I am NOT a size two, I tend to have to stop breathing to look at all decent.
The shorts are not as bad. They're just bright orange shorts made to eccentuate a female's legs. Theyre dolphin shorts, and I own a pair of those so it wasn't anything new to me. Once you slip them on, you have to pull the sides up onto your hip and the front down slightly, to create The Smile. The Smile is what gets the boys going. The effect of The Smile if that your butt constantly hangs out. In the manual it says your butt is to never hang out of your shorts, but its a moot point. Every single female shows some butt.
Next is the nylons. The disgusting, double thick Suntan nylons. They're made for girls with legs to their chins, so expect them to bee too long for you. A tip, if theyre too long, is to pull the cut off feet over your heels. It stretches them out enough to not sag and nobody will ever see them under the socks. Another interesting thing about the nylons, is the panties issue.
Yesterday, at my training, me and three other girls got into an indepth conversation about how to wear the nylons. apparently, most of the girls opt out on underwear, since all you can really wear comfortably with the shorts is a t-back thong. So boys, take joy in the fact that your Hooters girl might just be commando.
Onto the socks. They're 80's style white crunch socks that have to be "crunched" just perfectly, starting at mid-calf, in order to "make it look as though you have a nice leg." psh, I DO have a nice leg lady. Thanks though. There not a whole lot to say about them other than they are extrememly warm and very helpful on smoke breaks.
The shoes are simple white 3/4 high top sketchers that sell for about 100 bucks each. If they get dirty, AT ALL, they have to be thrown away. If the laces fray, they have to be thrown away. To keep them "fresh looking" you should wipe them down daily with a degreaser and not wear them outside.
The Hooters girl uniform is not allowed to be worn or even seen outside of their establlishment and because of this, every Hooters girl must come to work with her uniform completely covered and leave in the same manner. Basically, the Hooters girls make wearing this thing incredibly easy. It's not, trust me.
Granted, it is one of my very best friends, but hey! Its still counts and I'm still super excited :)
In other news, yesterday was my first official day in uniform and I feel I didn't do my job in describing my uniform with that last post so here we go.
The Hooters girl uniform consists of 5 parts: tank top, shorts, nylons, socks and shoes.
The tank top is the worst part, hands down. Made of white lycra, it starts out about 4 sizes too small and stretches to fit. Kind of reminds me of those dehydrated toys, the dinosaurs and bugs that kids used to get; stick them in water and they expand until you can see detail. yes, THAT is a Hooters t-shirt. When you look at one of these, your first instinct is to laugh and ask for a bigger size, but don't let the size fool you. You'll squeeze yourself into it and feel like a whale within minutes. I have my problems with the tank, but being that I am NOT a size two, I tend to have to stop breathing to look at all decent.
The shorts are not as bad. They're just bright orange shorts made to eccentuate a female's legs. Theyre dolphin shorts, and I own a pair of those so it wasn't anything new to me. Once you slip them on, you have to pull the sides up onto your hip and the front down slightly, to create The Smile. The Smile is what gets the boys going. The effect of The Smile if that your butt constantly hangs out. In the manual it says your butt is to never hang out of your shorts, but its a moot point. Every single female shows some butt.
Next is the nylons. The disgusting, double thick Suntan nylons. They're made for girls with legs to their chins, so expect them to bee too long for you. A tip, if theyre too long, is to pull the cut off feet over your heels. It stretches them out enough to not sag and nobody will ever see them under the socks. Another interesting thing about the nylons, is the panties issue.
Yesterday, at my training, me and three other girls got into an indepth conversation about how to wear the nylons. apparently, most of the girls opt out on underwear, since all you can really wear comfortably with the shorts is a t-back thong. So boys, take joy in the fact that your Hooters girl might just be commando.
Onto the socks. They're 80's style white crunch socks that have to be "crunched" just perfectly, starting at mid-calf, in order to "make it look as though you have a nice leg." psh, I DO have a nice leg lady. Thanks though. There not a whole lot to say about them other than they are extrememly warm and very helpful on smoke breaks.
The shoes are simple white 3/4 high top sketchers that sell for about 100 bucks each. If they get dirty, AT ALL, they have to be thrown away. If the laces fray, they have to be thrown away. To keep them "fresh looking" you should wipe them down daily with a degreaser and not wear them outside.
The Hooters girl uniform is not allowed to be worn or even seen outside of their establlishment and because of this, every Hooters girl must come to work with her uniform completely covered and leave in the same manner. Basically, the Hooters girls make wearing this thing incredibly easy. It's not, trust me.
Thursday, January 6, 2011
oh boy, have I got some shit to tell you. forgive me if it takes me a little time to remember everything :)
Obviously, if you've read my last few posts, then you know that yesterday was my orientation. if you paid a very small amount of attention, then you'll know I was a little nervous. this is what happened, in my own words;
I walked into hooters at exactly 1:57, knowing I had to be there at two. Everywhere online it stressed being there early but the last time I showed up early I was left to rot at a back table, so I wasn't taking my chances. Hooters was almost empty again (I've yet to see it really hopping) and I was once again sat at an empty back table by myself. Woopie. Eventually, another younger girl was pointed to my table and she came to sit with me. She seemed a little younger than me but obviously very sweet and we instantly clicked. anyways, it took about another 30 minutes for roots to show up and once she did she took us to the very back (pool tables and concrete remember? This time luckily, no stilettos). Kind of made me wonder why she feels the need to walk us back there. Why not just seat us there? But I digress. we literally spent the next two and a half hours filling out paperwork.
Speaking of which, you're all lucky I heal like wolverine, if my wrists still felt today the way they did yesterday then I surely would not be writing this. And on my phone no less! Yeesh.
After discussing all key points and having some friendly conversation, she told us it was time for the really fun part: uniforms.
Awesome. Whatever. Let's do it.
We were led to a room filled with tubs of clothing and almost instantly my eyes landed on the one labeled small/med. Good lord, please think I have a big ass or something. let there be some minuscule thought that makes you want to give me regular size clothing.
Alas, no such luck. Roots quickly fished out two XS shorts and two XXS shirts.
Let me just make one point before I feel the need to tell you exactly how suffocating that uniform was: it did fit. Despite my worries and self concious habits, yes it fit. Needed some stretching but hell, what doesn't at that size?
That's the end. Afterwards, I went home to the boyfriend, read all the manuals, and fell asleep watching a movie. Maybe day two will be a little less....tight.
Obviously, if you've read my last few posts, then you know that yesterday was my orientation. if you paid a very small amount of attention, then you'll know I was a little nervous. this is what happened, in my own words;
I walked into hooters at exactly 1:57, knowing I had to be there at two. Everywhere online it stressed being there early but the last time I showed up early I was left to rot at a back table, so I wasn't taking my chances. Hooters was almost empty again (I've yet to see it really hopping) and I was once again sat at an empty back table by myself. Woopie. Eventually, another younger girl was pointed to my table and she came to sit with me. She seemed a little younger than me but obviously very sweet and we instantly clicked. anyways, it took about another 30 minutes for roots to show up and once she did she took us to the very back (pool tables and concrete remember? This time luckily, no stilettos). Kind of made me wonder why she feels the need to walk us back there. Why not just seat us there? But I digress. we literally spent the next two and a half hours filling out paperwork.
Speaking of which, you're all lucky I heal like wolverine, if my wrists still felt today the way they did yesterday then I surely would not be writing this. And on my phone no less! Yeesh.
After discussing all key points and having some friendly conversation, she told us it was time for the really fun part: uniforms.
Awesome. Whatever. Let's do it.
We were led to a room filled with tubs of clothing and almost instantly my eyes landed on the one labeled small/med. Good lord, please think I have a big ass or something. let there be some minuscule thought that makes you want to give me regular size clothing.
Alas, no such luck. Roots quickly fished out two XS shorts and two XXS shirts.
Let me just make one point before I feel the need to tell you exactly how suffocating that uniform was: it did fit. Despite my worries and self concious habits, yes it fit. Needed some stretching but hell, what doesn't at that size?
That's the end. Afterwards, I went home to the boyfriend, read all the manuals, and fell asleep watching a movie. Maybe day two will be a little less....tight.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
just the beginning?
Today is my orientation at hooters and honestly, I'm a little more nervous than I expected to be. I don't know how these girls will react to me and I feel like ill look like a whale in that uniform.
I could definitely use some words of encouragement right about now.
I could definitely use some words of encouragement right about now.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
No sefl Respect?
In the past few days, I recieved a few less-than-courteous letters due to my choice of employment. I would like to address those here.
It seems to be that a good many of you think that my working at Hooters is a sure sign that I have little to no self respect. I can assure you it is not. I have plenty of respect for myself. I respect myself enough to know when I need a job and jump at a chance to make good money. I also respect myself enough to not let your words of discouragement...well...discourage me. I know that this is a choice not many young women would make and I understand that. However, for you to assume that every woman or young lady who works at hooters has no confidence and sees her self in very little light is a bit hypocritical, dont you think? You urge me to "seek out god" and tell me that I need to "find myself, so that [I] can see myself as beautiful and not as a pair of hooters" yet with just one letter you judge every female who has the aduacity to adorn herself in orange and white. Working at Hooters is not something to be ashamed about. I am in no way ashamed to be taking this job. (btw, if you saw my "hooters" you would know I dont have enough for them to be my reason for being hired. so thank you, but no thank you.)
On the next note, one of you asked me how I could even possibly get hired, as I have no breasts to speak of. Obviously, I have other qualities that made them want to hire me. that doesnt even merit a half civil response from me. Women are not their bodies. There are admirable qualities inside each one that make them a good friend, girlfriend, wife, mother, employee, etc. And no, they are not contained inside the titties. Try looking other places. Personally, I think the person who asked this questions should be ashamed of themselves for letting me know outright that this is how they think of women. (the person who asked this question was a man. go figure.)
Moving on. One girl who I do not know, and I have no idea how she even saw my status, as she is not friends with me on facebook, sent me a letter saying that I should be ashamed, because my body is a temple and by working at hooters, I am not treating it as such. Let me explain something to you people. I am a very religious person. I believe in God, i beleieve Jesus died for our sins, and I believe that he rose three days later...all that jazz. Big believer, go me. But the minute you try to jam YOUR beliefs down MY throat makes me think that you need a lesson in christianity yourself. In what way am i not treating my body as a temple? By donning a tank top and shorts? Cheerleaders wear less than that and nobody is berrating them.
On an ending note, lets try to look past the boob aspect, okay people?
seriously.
It seems to be that a good many of you think that my working at Hooters is a sure sign that I have little to no self respect. I can assure you it is not. I have plenty of respect for myself. I respect myself enough to know when I need a job and jump at a chance to make good money. I also respect myself enough to not let your words of discouragement...well...discourage me. I know that this is a choice not many young women would make and I understand that. However, for you to assume that every woman or young lady who works at hooters has no confidence and sees her self in very little light is a bit hypocritical, dont you think? You urge me to "seek out god" and tell me that I need to "find myself, so that [I] can see myself as beautiful and not as a pair of hooters" yet with just one letter you judge every female who has the aduacity to adorn herself in orange and white. Working at Hooters is not something to be ashamed about. I am in no way ashamed to be taking this job. (btw, if you saw my "hooters" you would know I dont have enough for them to be my reason for being hired. so thank you, but no thank you.)
On the next note, one of you asked me how I could even possibly get hired, as I have no breasts to speak of. Obviously, I have other qualities that made them want to hire me. that doesnt even merit a half civil response from me. Women are not their bodies. There are admirable qualities inside each one that make them a good friend, girlfriend, wife, mother, employee, etc. And no, they are not contained inside the titties. Try looking other places. Personally, I think the person who asked this questions should be ashamed of themselves for letting me know outright that this is how they think of women. (the person who asked this question was a man. go figure.)
Moving on. One girl who I do not know, and I have no idea how she even saw my status, as she is not friends with me on facebook, sent me a letter saying that I should be ashamed, because my body is a temple and by working at hooters, I am not treating it as such. Let me explain something to you people. I am a very religious person. I believe in God, i beleieve Jesus died for our sins, and I believe that he rose three days later...all that jazz. Big believer, go me. But the minute you try to jam YOUR beliefs down MY throat makes me think that you need a lesson in christianity yourself. In what way am i not treating my body as a temple? By donning a tank top and shorts? Cheerleaders wear less than that and nobody is berrating them.
On an ending note, lets try to look past the boob aspect, okay people?
seriously.
the sick and the tired
I'm still sick today, but nowhere near as bad. Which is good, because I've got way too much to do and can't really afford to be sick during it. My cough is basically gone and my muscles are absolutely worn out. Poor things.
Corky the pig is doing wonderfully!
It seems when The Boyfriend last hosed off the deck he feigned to realize that corkys bed and blankets were sitting in the line of fire. Neither of us noticed it until it was too late, so the poor piglet was forced to sleep on cold and wet bedding in nearly 20 degree weather. Luckily, I figured this out, brought him inside, fed him some spinach and multivitamins before he could get really sick. He still has a sneeze though, so well see if he needs to go to the vet or if it'll stop on its own.
Corky the pig is doing wonderfully!
It seems when The Boyfriend last hosed off the deck he feigned to realize that corkys bed and blankets were sitting in the line of fire. Neither of us noticed it until it was too late, so the poor piglet was forced to sleep on cold and wet bedding in nearly 20 degree weather. Luckily, I figured this out, brought him inside, fed him some spinach and multivitamins before he could get really sick. He still has a sneeze though, so well see if he needs to go to the vet or if it'll stop on its own.
Monday, January 3, 2011
its official...
I am now a hooters girl.
Thats right. at 5'2 and 130 lbs, I have been deemed sexy enough to wear the sacred owl. Hip hip hooray? Who knew the ability to fit into a skin tight pair of orange dolphin shorts and crunch socks made me "sexy"
Anyways, my interview went smoothly. I waited for about 35 minutes at a back table after being seated there by the manager who conducted my first interview. Remember him? mr. Not So Sleazy? This time, he was considerably more forgettful and couldnt seem to remember my name. No biggie. After being asked constantly by every girl if I had already been helped, they seemed to warm up to me, telling me how much they loved my (new and incredibly painful) shiny black stilettos and joking around with me every time they walked by. Much better atmosphere this time around but then again, the blonde trio was nowhere to be found. Miss Slick was however working the front and she was not too entirely friendly once she recognized me. I can't decide if she thinks I'm encroaching on her territory or here to knock her out of a job but she can rest easy. I want nothing to do with the catty ones. I'll put up with them only when I have to.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the general manager came up to me. She seemed to be somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties (though I could be horribly wrong) with bleached blonde hair and roots that showed thru in a way that actually fitted her. Made the bleached sections look more natural, I guess? whatever. We'll just call her Roots. She took me to the very back, which oddly enough has pool tables and concrete floors. (the main section of the restaurant had these ridicuously glossy hardwood floors that made me feel as though my stilettos would come crashing out from under me at any second. yuck.) She sat me down in a booth and began to ask me a few questions:
where did you hear about us?
Craigslist. (this is where you look shocked. yes, hooters advertises on craigslist.)
what is is your availability?
whenever.
full time?
sure, why not.
any problems with the uniform?
(besides the idea of a forced camel toe and cinstant wedgies...?) nope
then came the kicker. "any visible tattoos?"
One, a bird on my shoulder, but i can cover it up if needed.
Roots laughed for a second, told me to hang on and left. She came back with a girl who was literally covered in tattoos from head to foot and said "I dont think tattoos will be a problem." (keep in mind, this girl used body cover up to reduce the visibility of her tattoos, leaving her looking as though shed been beaten rather than inked.)
sweet.
The interview was about 15 minutes long and I was hired on the spot. Roots then sent me home with a website and four hours of online training, including an exam that would make me able to sell and serve alcohol (which I finished in two hours and passed with an 85%. holla!)
Oh, btw, wanna know what the rest of my training consists of? I knew you would.
4 hours of Image training
-(proper uniform fit, hair and make up, hygeine, and health and wellness)
2 hours of "Service that sells"
-(basically covers my tips, pay, and best way to get tips. aka, how to flirt)
orientation (length unknown)
-(my first official day will be this one, wherein I will get my uniform, homework, and be briefed on hooters girl history, policies, handbook, scheduling, benefits, and store info.)
2 hours of Classroom
-("learn all the tricks of the trade from a certified trainer including tips and how to look beautiful." must I say more?)
3 on the job shifts
-(table numbers, hospitality skills, bar, ticket times, food and beverage and mock shop tests. All of these have to be taken before *dun dun dun* audition day.
*dun dun dun* audition day basically consists of me getting a two table section with my own guests and...well, auditioning to see how I do, if I need any more training and all that.
In other news (because I've definitely talked enough about Hooters) I'm horribly sick. I dont know what I have or why it won't go away, but jeez I'm in pain. It started yesterday with a cough, then progressed to sinus infection-like pain, then add on a headache ad body aches and youve got me all rolled up into one big ball of sickness. My pet potbelly pig, Corky, is also not doing so well. A few prayers for us definitely wouldnt hurt.
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