When I was 20 years old I almost took a job as a waitress at Hooters.
I was reminded of this wonderful fact after driving past one last week.
I looked to my left and peeped that familiar orange sign and little horny owl with breasts for eyes.
Now if you know me now you will understand how truly humorous this notion is.
And if you knew me then you would howl with laughter, your stomach in stitches.
Let’s just say that if a guy looked at me the wrong way I would give him a piece of my mind he would probably never forget.
I even once kicked a guy in the shin for saying something disrespectful about my friend and I. Not my finest moment but I’ve learned to forgive my mid-twenties self many, many times.
But I needed a new restaurant job and so in the same day I interviewed at Hooters and Carrabbas.
I walked into the elk-lodgeesque restaurant where the servers sported orange bootie shorts and deep scoop white tanks and thought, sure I could do this, why not.
Apparently I wasn’t the only one who thought this because there were several Hooters hopefuls gathered around the front waiting to be interviewed.
Right before my turn an attractive girl that had just completed her interview shared the news that the managers told her they weren’t really looking for anyone at this time.
I was perplexed by this information and wondered why they would waste everyone’s time if they weren’t looking to hire. But still, I took my turn.
I remember I was wearing a blue, ombré, deep v-neck sweater with my best push up bra.
I figured, when in Rome, make your boobs look as good as possible.
And when the two male managers asked me why I thought I would be a good fit at Hooters I said and I quote,
Well, my boobs aren’t that big but they are pretty perky. So yeah, I think they would work.
God I love my younger self.
The two men looked at each other, as they tried to hide their disbelief and stifle their laughter.
Then they offered me the job. Well first it was a meeting with the owner but I’m pretty sure I got it.
The same job they just said they weren’t hiring for.
I would be lying if I said my ego didn’t feel a surge for getting picked over these other lovely ladies.
I would also be lying if I said I don’t feel a small sparkle of pride even as I write these words in this very moment 17 years later. Because I totally do.
Old stigmas die hard I suppose.
Really though I didn’t get offered that job because I was prettier or my breasts were bigger. I got offered the job because I was honest. Just like I am every week when I share pieces of my life with you.
You may call bullshit on this but looking back that’s what I believe it was.
I didn’t sugar coat the reality of the situation. I was interviewing for an establishment where women’s butt cheeks hang out of their tiny orange shorts.
A place where I once saw a server shake the salt and pepper shakers for no other reason than the jiggle that resulted in her breasts. It was an amazing site to behold.
So of course when asked I’m not going to talk about my charming personality or multitasking ability, which I am sure are all great assets as well. It’s called Hooters people!
And I knew what I was signing up for. If I worked there it felt like it would be more on my terms. Unlike the job I wound up taking where I was disrespected and hit on by men quite often.
In the end I didn’t take the job. I chose Carrabbas instead.
I chose the job that would introduce me to the man with whom I had a 3 year emotionally abusive relationship with. In fact he was behind the bar the day I interviewed.
That man also inadvertently introduced me to yoga.
Despite the turmoil I experienced I still think I made the right choice.
Not because working at Hooters is bad. If someone enjoys it and it makes them happy and they feel good then rock it out sister!
It just wasn’t for me.
But still I wonder where my life would have taken me if I decided to be a Hooters girl…
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