Let us not assume, cough, Hooters cannot produce quality grub on top of the always exciting eye candy. Why not? Chefs all across America have to start somewhere. With the economy, one can’t always pick & choose employment.
This goes for the female servers of the world as well. Aside from the 1981 Ocean Pacific looking silky shorts with tan panty hose, resting peacefully beneath world record winning thick white socks, it can’t be all that bad.
As this guy, we will call “Mr. Man,” decided to pull in and park in front of none other than Hooters recently, all ears were in tune to his appeal. He pled his Hooters case, passionately confessing it had nothing to do with breasts or booty and everything to do with excellent wings. Alrighty then. Team players listen to table neighbors, so off we went.
Look people, being a Hooters girl isn’t always as glamorous as you think. During an interview with a real live Hooters girl last year, in Houston, she raved about the TCB room and its ability to make life easier for all the girls before work. Um, this would be the “Take Care of Beauty” room. She explained the pains of being a Hooters girl… “It just isn’t plain easy.”
As we sat waiting for the beginning of my very first Hooters experience, it happened. Like the birth of a brand new baby or finding out who your baby’s daddy is, our order of fried shrimp arrived! This moment quickly forced the realization that we would need to remove the shrimp tails without using our… fingers. Why? Because that’s how we roll.
Hooters, we have a problem. Our table was not joyously included in those receiving knives without asking. An abundance of forks, oh yes, but not even one knife. As our very own Hooters girl walked by, imaginary wind began blowing straight through her locks of golden hair, as her thick white socks shot almost all the way up to her Hooters half shirt, yes, we got her attention.
Knife delivery sent us spiraling out of reality and into an uncontrollable trance. We sat silently gazing, locked in a dirty silver stare. Life quickly became less focused on boobs and entirely focused on food. Eww. To his manly surprise, the knife in question was full of funk. That’s right. So dirty is this knife, Hooters makes BJ’s Restaurant & Brewhouse look like a health inspector’s dream.
Exactly what carcass could have possibly called this knife home before making its way through the dishwasher? Granted, the carcass attached to this knife is now clean as a whistle. Having been run through the dishwasher is like giving the carcass a shower. How exciting.
This carcass just so happened to be dark, still wearing an A1 sauce accessory. Snapping out of our shock meant it was time to ask for a new knife, with a super special request that it be clean.
Really? Seriously? I’m sorry and, of course, hate to be a bother, but it would be great if you could put a quick pip in your step and head on back to the kitchen and try again. You know, to the area where you fancy keeping your clean knives. Third time’s a charm?
In no way, none, nada, not at all, is anyone about to imply that Hooters girls are not intelligent. As a previous server slash bartender, it can be stated as fact that a person is NOT THAT SMART if they take one funky knife to the kitchen, only to return with an even funkier knife than before. This stigma is not attached to Hooters employees as a whole, but this one is dumb.
And so ends our Hooters adventure of stomach turning torture. A fiasco of nasty with a side of ultimate dirtiness. A true moment of silverware shame. Wow + Ouch = Wouch!
FIVE: High 5!
FOUR: Please & Thank You
THREE: Yada
TWO: Double Wow
ONE: Wow + Ouch = Wouch
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