I'm not much of a feminist, and so, unlike some other women, Hooters® has never been a problem for me. You ALREADY know that I speak not of Owls ~ nocturnal birds of prey ~ nor of the O.W.L.'s - Ordinary Wizarding Level (O.W.L.) ~ the annual exam given to pupils of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry during their 3rd thru 5th years at Hogwarts. No, no....I do indeed speak of Hooters® ~ that notorious American restaurant chain that targets male customers (not mail customers) by boasting a staff of female waitresses. These Hooters® Girls are known for their All-American good looks. Ahhhh, I see it in your thoughts right now - 'that is NOT what they are hired for'. Well....that is true too. And there in lies the subject for this story.
I'm not sure how the discussion first came up, but the whole fam damily was in a local 50's themed restaurant. Maybe it was the waitress taking our order that first sparked Hunter's memory. Suddenly Hunter spoke up "Nick (his friend) said that if a girl wants to work at Hooters®, she has to stand in front of a wall as close as she can, but her nose can't touch the wall." He looked at all of us with a big grin, "Do you know what I mean?" We just stared at him, a bit shocked, quite amused, and wondering how we were to approach this. After a couple of moments of complete silence, we began to laugh.
Since I am unemployed and we are always talking about crazy jobs that I could do for work, I said, "Hey, maybe I could get a job at Hooters®."
We all laughed again, and Hunter said, "Momma, your nose would touch the wall!"
I was surprised he would say this as it's obvious I have ample bosom. "How come, Hunter?" Hunter.....my sweet, my darling, my kind, wonderful boy.
Without skipping a single beat, my adorable and oh-so-innocent son said, " 'Cause the Hooters® girls look like THIS....." and he put both hands in front of his chest and showed us the Hooters® form. (diagram A)
(ooooh man......I already knew what was coming)
......look like THIS!"
(Give 'em 20 years, son, and their's will be hanging to their toes!!)
We tipped the waitress extra. She had heard the whole conversation. I call it 'hush money'.