Dana :: Hooters :: January 2006
I didn’t exactly tell my parents-- or anyone else for that matter-- about this job.
Not my proudest achievement, if you could call it an achievement at all.
To think I’d been all psyched in the beginning. I went in to interview with my two best friends and we were all hired immediately. I just saw it as pure fun, not really thinking about what was to come, if anything.
Hooters in Scranton, Pennsylvania. Not even sure if I’d put that one on my resume.
The two girls that were my friends weren’t my friends anymore. They’d stopped just about the second I said I was going to quit.
“Dana,” Beth said to me, piling on platters of hot wings and fries. “What on Earth? I mean, you’re making ridiculous amounts of money.”
This was true. Sometimes two hundred a night, max. It wasn’t like I couldn’t use the cash, it was more like I needed back my peace of mind.
Guys like this one that came in on a random Tuesday..
“I’ll have the chicken breast, hold the chicken.”
I mean, honestly, what was that? I was surprised I hadn’t gone nuts already.
I knew that the job called for sex appeal and “entertaining” and “interacting” with the customers. And that was fine, I knew that.
But everyone has their breaking point. And the false birthday/singing attack to some poor, unsuspecting guy was the tip of the iceberg for me.
“Hi, I’m Dana, welcome to Hooters,” I said to the guy with slicked-back, black hair and the guy who looked like he didn’t belong. It was always a pretty safe bet as to who was conned into eating there in cases like this.
The older guy had a silly, kiddish grin on his face. “We’re not worthy, we’re not worthy.” Yeah. It was going to be one of those ones.
I was going to speed things up, get the drinks as fast as possible, but he kept going. “Hi, Dana. I am Michael, and this is Jim and we are brothers.”
Okay. No need for the introductions, but alright..
“Nope, not brothers,” Jim said without really looking anywhere. Definitely the one conned into it.
“Well, I’m his boss actually. And I treat him well. And I’m taking him out to lunch, because I can afford it. And he can have whatever he wants,” Michael said, happy and giddy as could be.
Jim spoke quickly. “Can I just have the ham and cheese, sandwich? Thanks.”
I did my little standard, “Great. And for you?”
Please don’t try to make a joke. Again.
“Tell me, Dana, how is your chicken breast?” Michael asked, unable to even hide the smile leading into a very, extremely overplayed joke. It was new to him, but I’d heard it a thousand times. Jim looked at Michael with a little bit of disgust.
Sometimes, guy’s personalities would change when they came here. But I could tell Michael was always like this.
I could have steered clear of it, walked away, said I had to go check on something. But I walked right into it, like always. It was what the people came there for. Might as well live out my final, orange and white clad days.
“Oh, it’s great. It’s served with our world-famous wing sauce,” I replied with a smile and that fake sense of humor I used, when averaged out, about 309 days of the year.
“Mmm, sounds yummy. I will have a chicken breast, hold the chicken.”
Ha. Ha. Ha. Good one, sir. That was a knee-slapper, like my dad always used to say.
My dad.
I had to quit this job, I had to quit this job.
I changed my mind and swallowed the prepared laugh.
“Is that was you really want?” I asked, in my best attempt to seem annoyed.
He sighed. “No. Um. I’m gonna have the gourmet hot dog.”
Still automatic, this time grossed out, “Great.”
I turned and put the order in, making special note not to come back to the table more than two more times. I didn’t even care about the tips.
I went back with the check a while later, after I could tell Jim was being peppered with questions.
Finishing with a flair, I did what Michael asked me to on the way in.
“I understand we have a birthday today!” I called enthusiastically.
Put your front side in, put your front side out..
I couldn’t tell if Jim was happy about this or not. Michael sure seemed to be, clapping and giving me a wink of acknowledgement.
You do the hokey pokey..
Over, over, it’s over. The last time I’d ever have to do this.
That’s what it’s all about.
“Thanks ladies! Wow,” Michael chirped.
“Thanks, guys. Thanks, Dana,” Jim said, surprising me a little.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Jim-- flustered but a smile on his face nonetheless.
Michael was proud of himself. In fact, his pride was maybe even enough to erase his earlier comments, make me think a little better of him. Maybe he was ignorant, maybe he was stupid and full of himself-- but the combined effect of embarrassment and disbelief on Jim’s part had exposed something I hadn’t seen before.
And really, I’d seen it all.
My eyes fluttered at the thought of a bond forming over the course of three beers and a couple sandwiches. Especially here. And especially with these two.
I hoped that they could each learn a few things from each other.
Like how to relax.
And how to know when things have gone too far, offensively.
But maybe they wouldn’t.
They’d keep on being Michael and Jim.
Boy-next-door and Boss-from-hell seemed to sum them up nicely-- but then again, I didn’t know the whole story.
And I never would.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Famous scene from the Secret S2, retold by their waitress, Dana. Kind of far-fetched, but I didn't want to leave it out.
Chapter End Notes:
blah, this one was a little strange to write. it will get better!
