retail stories Archives - Page 7 of 24 - I Hate Working In Retail

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WHAT PEOPLE IN RETAIL REALLY THINK ABOUT YOU.

11. Learn how to answer, “how are you doing today?”

I never knew the question, “hi, how are you doing today?” could cause so much confusion until I started working in retail.  I’ve learned that about a quarter of people have no idea how to properly respond to such a seemingly simple inquiry.  Here is a list of responses that don’t count as suitable answers to the obligatory greeting here in the United States:

  • “Just looking.”
  • “No.”
  • “Yes.”
  • “Where is [insert product here].”
  • “I’ll get you when I need you.”
  • “Fine.”
  • “I’m not stealing anything.”

Nonverbal replies that don’t count are grunts, sighs of annoyance, and total silence.  But the one that completely irritates me is a swat of the hand.  Don’t you dare silently swat your hand at me a few times to tell me to go away when all I did was greet you.  I’m not a fly you need to swish away so please open your mouth and use your words if you’re going to be so barbarous.

So remember, the polite answer to “how are you doing today?” is something along the lines of “pretty good, thanks.”  I didn’t personally create our culture’s insistence upon inquiring about your mood as a form of a polite greeting, but I participate in this absurdity anyway.  Since I do count as a human being (contrary to popular belief that salespeople are people too), proper etiquette dictates that you give me a polite reply.  I don’t want your life story; I just want some respect.

Why hello! My company hires hotties to get you to stop blowing us off.

10. It’s not our fault when you do something REALLY stupid.

Yesterday I saw something in other workplace that was too funny not to share.  I was at a small coffee shop that has a large glass pane at its front; it stretches from the floor to the ceiling and it can look like a door at first glance.  The employees had posted a sign on it reading, “this is not a door.”  I asked them if they had a lot of customers who would walk into the window and they said it would happen multiple times a day before they put up the warning sign.*  This would be funny enough to watch and walking into a glass pane would definitely be a stupid move, but most of us wouldn’t really judge you beyond laughing since accidents do happen; besides, we all have done something equally mindless and embarrassing.

However, the employees added that their main motivation for putting up the sign was due to the occasional flustered glass-smasher who would further humiliate himself by blaming the coffee shop afterward.  “This is unbelievable!  How was I supposed to know it’s not a door?  You guys should really put a door right here!  I’m going to call your owner and give him a piece of my mind!”  Of course, anyone in the shop who didn’t see him face-plant into the glass was now aware that he just did so after he announced his indignation at the top of his lungs.  Supposedly one (in all likelihood former) customer even threatened to sue.

The moral of the story is:  if you make an ass out of yourself while shopping, don’t blame the employees or the store.  It’s YOUR fault.  Causing a scene and trying to shift the blame just makes you look obtuse since no one else believes you’re a victim.

Businesses are out to get you with deceptive doors.

*Apparently it did happen one time after they put up the sign.  The customer bumped into the glass and then testily scolded them that they should put up a warning sign before someone got hurt.

Being perky comes with the territory of working in retail. It’s not so much that I’m being fake; it’s just that most people would rather be helped by someone who is friendly and upbeat instead of someone who is jaded and crabby.

However, that does not give you the liscense to openly mock me back by mimicking me in an exaggerated manner. It doesn’t make you funny or clever; it makes you a douche. Does it make you feel good to treat people who can’t defend themselves like crap? Do you miss being the junior high bully?

Now I get to have the last laugh. See, I won’t help you now. I get to watch you frantically look for something that’s sitting right in front of your face. Too bad you’re too stupid to find it in your own.

 8. Think before you speak.

Me:  “Hello, what can I help you find today?”
Customer:  “I’m looking for something I know you guys don’t even carry anymore.”

I just don’t know how to respond to these types of customers.  Did she expect me to magically pull whatever she was looking for out of my ass?  All I could manage was an, “oh…I see,” but I guess that’s much better than asking her back if she ever powers up her brain before opening her mouth.  Besides, I already know the answer to that is a resounding no.

7. Stay out of the doorway.

Next time you walk into a store, look above or at the sides of the doorway. See that small box with a blinking light? That’s called a traffic counter. It counts every person who walks through the door and calculates a store’s conversion by dividing the number of transactions by the number of traffic. Most businesses are absolutely obsessed with conversion; they think that each person who walks through the door will do so only once and has the potential to purchase something. Most people with average reasoning skills can realize how illogical this is, but then again I have a theory that most businesses are run by chimps.

So please don’t come into our store four times before you decide to buy something. I know you’re only one person but our company considers you to be four potential customers at this point. And don’t bring in your two other friends when you need to make a return; they can wait outside for you. If you really need to drag your husband shopping, don’t let him awkwardly stand in the doorway since his rocking back and forth makes it look like I’m doing my best to offend potential customers instead of meet their needs in the moronic eyes of my company. Please don’t hang out in the doorway on your cellphone, I know it’s “quieter” but you’re really screwing with our store’s numbers for the hour. And you may think it’s cute that your kid keeps running in and out of the door, but guess what? My company counts him as a potential paying customer each time he passes the threshold.

It’s a ridiculous idea, but apparently my Regional Manager doesn’t consider it to be when she comes in screaming. In the retail world, low conversion obviously must mean we’re too busy trying to fit our heads up our own asses instead of attending to customers. So please be more considerate when walking into a store. Something that small and simple transforms my Regional Manager into a banshee and can ultimately cost me my job.

Conversion: worst idea since The Holocaust.

Some of you think the phrase, “can’t you just look it up in the system?” can persuade us to access our all-powerful and all-knowing database that keeps track of every single piece of information that has ever been relevant to our company in the history of time.  I’m sure our company bigwigs would be flattered, but such a system does not exist.  Our “system” (if one could call it that) is about as technologically advanced as a Windows 3.0 computer hooked up to Usenet and I’m sure we’re better off than many retail businesses out there.  If you want a cutting edge “system”, go to the Apple Store; you won’t find it here.

So no, we can’t look up your gift card in our “system”.  I don’t know how that would be possible even with the Apple Store’s technology since gift cards aren’t linked to personal information.  Repetitively insisting that I look it up in our “system” isn’t going to change the fact that what you’re asking is completely absurd.  Now, by chance did you happen to memorize that sixteen digit number on the back and the three digit pin?  No?  Sorry, there’s nothing I can do for you.

Hi, I’m a gift card and I’m not in the “system”.

5. Keep your ridiculous requests to a minimum.

Me:  “M’am, I’m really sorry but we’re all sold out of the product you’re looking for.  Now we have a few options–“

Customer:  “Can you look it up in your computers and see if another store has it?

Me:  Yeah right, as if our company would ever realize we’ve left the 80s and implement an electronic inventory. “We actually don’t have a way to look it up.  What I can do is call a couple of our stores nearby.”

[I call a few of our local stores and fortunately one about 10 miles away has what the customer has requested.]

Me:  “Our store in ________ has some in stock.  I had the associate put one on hold for you under your name.  Just ask for Andrew, he knows you’ll be coming by.  Do you need directions and the store’s phone number?”

Customer:  “Well, can’t you go pick it up and bring it here for me?”

Me:  Wait…what. “I’m sorry, I can’t actually do that.”

Customer:  “Why not?”

Me:  Because what you’re buying is only $6 and it would cost me more in gas money?  Because it would take me about two hours right now thanks to rush hour traffic?  Because the company would not reimburse me for making the drive?  Because that’s absolutely ridiculous? “It’s against company policy and I’m the only person in the store right now.  If you really don’t want to make the drive, you can always make the purchase online and have it shipped to your house.”

Customer:  “You guys have done it for me before.  Sarah at _________ went to _________ and brought me what I needed last January.”

Me:  ???  There’s no way she did that for you. “If she did do that she went against company policy.  And besides, those two stores are a five minute walk from each other.  If you want I can give her a call and ask her if she did do that since I know she’s at work today.”

Customer:  “No no no, don’t do that.  I don’t think I want it anymore.  Whatever happened to good customer service?  You guys are horrible; I’m never shopping here again!”

There’s no way in hell I’ll drive to pick something up for you.

4. Don’t expect to make impossible returns.

I don’t care how much you whine, call me a liar, and threaten to never come back, but I cannot give you cash back when you’re returning something you bought with a credit card.  Don’t try to persuade me that you do it here all the time; you don’t.  Don’t try to convince me that we’re the only store that won’t let you do this; that is complete crap.  No one thought you looked cool when you ripped up your receipt, threw the pieces everywhere, yelled about how much you hate us, and stormed out.

I cannot give you cash back when you don’t have your receipt.  No, I can’t just “trust you.”  No, I don’t care that you would have no use for merchandise credit since apparently you’re a freak of nature who never uses any of the thousands of every day things we sell.  And no, you can’t hang out in the store for fifteen minutes while trying to sell your merchandise credit for cash.  How the hell is that acceptable behavior?

Yelling at me isn’t going to change the fact that the item you’re trying to return is only worth $0.50 now.  Maybe you shouldn’t have waited 2.5 years before getting around to returning it.  No, I don’t believe that you originally bought it for $45; I know for the fact it sold for $25 full price.  No, I don’t believe you just bought it in our store last week since we haven’t had this item for over a year now.

I don’t make the rules so stop acting like I’m out to get you.  It’s not like I’m making commission by refusing to do your ridiculous returns exactly how you want them.  Where is this so-called return policy, you smugly demand?  It’s on the front of your receipt, the back of your receipt, next to the cash registers, and online.  Now get the hell out before I tattoo it on your face too.

 

3. Signs are for reading.

You walk into the store, oblivious to the huge posters in the windows and multiple banners hanging inside.  You start looking at your product of choice while ignoring all six of the promotional signs just within your line of vision.  You start complaining loudly to yourself about how the products you want are not on sale.  The salesperson recognizes that it’s probably not your fault that you’re illiterate and explains the promotion that applies to your coveted products.  You still don’t understand.  The salesperson walks you through it three more times, using detailed examples and your desired products as props.  You snap back that maybe they should just put up signs.  The salesperson kindly points out the closest sign, which is sitting at eye level about two feet away.  You attempt to read it over a few more times and complain that you still don’t understand, so a nine-year-old shopping nearby explains it to you.  You’re still confused, so you drop your shopping basket in the middle of the floor and leave the store wondering why they couldn’t just put up a couple of signs.

Reading is way too hard.

2. Finish your sentence.

Don’t answer “can I help you find anything?” with “yeah, I’m uhh, [unintelligible mumble] mmm…”  Is that a yes?  A no?  Now you’re just staring at me blankly and I have no idea what to do.  I don’t want to interrupt you just in case you’re eventually going to finish your sentence.  I don’t want to make you irate just because you presume what came out of your mouth was coherent.  Or maybe you forgot I was even talking to you?  The awkwardness of this encounter is excruciating.

Also, don’t do the trail-off while walking away from me.  Are you wanting me to follow you or are you going to snap at me when I try to figure out if what you were mumbling was intended for me or oh, maybe say for your purse?  Of course, you were talking to your purse.  I should’ve known.

Is this seriously how you communicate with most people?  If so, I can’t imagine how you’ve managed to function up to this point.

1. Stop sniffing the packaging.

Don’t hold a sealed product up to your nose, take a deep whiff, and then complain that you can’t smell anything.  Of course you can’t smell it; IT’S CALLED PACKAGING.

Or worse yet, don’t tell me that it smells like plastic and not “Island Tropics” as labeled.  Really?  Unopened plastic packaging smells like plastic?  Have all of those pthalates you’ve inhaled eaten away at your brain?

Next time you go into a store, try opening something before you smell it and make an insightful comment.  The salespeople may certify you as a genius on the spot.

Apparently it’s much more difficult than it looks.

 

Sourced from retailpolice.wordpress.com

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PART 3: 5 WAYS TO A QUICKER DEATH AT THE CHECKOUT

JUDGEMENT!

Justin sets aside even more of his valuable time to do something he always loves to do: make even more people feel as badly about themselves as he can

When I first sat down in my manager’s office almost 10 years ago, and explained to her why I should be hired and how I would make a valuable addition to her “team,” I calmly but emphatically explained, on top of being great with people, getting a sense for a person and understanding what they might need, that I was the most patient person I’d ever met, and all of these facts coalesced into me being a tremendous retail associate.

Fast forward all these years, and it’s all still true. I’m the best goddamn retail associate I know. The only difference? I just secretly hate these customers more and more than I used to.

And it is exactly this world weariness I have shared with you time and again, dear reader, the culmination of which you are about to enjoy and embark on a journey for which you will find no lack of gumption, conviction and verisimilitude!

I proudly present the final, triumphant piece to conclude the most epic trilogy of ranting satire every conceived! The pièce de résistance in my finest line of work yet! The Crown Jewel in my development as a comedic writer!

I give you… My masterpiece!

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Ladies and gentleman, I present to you, Public Enemy No. 1! Do not approach or confront this man as he is believed to be distracted, and extremely douchey!

The Crime: 1st Degree Criminal Phone Use

Nothing really says, “you’re just the help and you’re here to act as my personal slave while I treat you with a mild neglect as you ring through my items and bag them, because this call is clearly too important for me to just put on hold while you service me,” quite like someone who’s on the phone the entire time you’re attending to them. It’s about as demeaning as someone can get, short of telling you you’re unimportant, a failure at life, they make more money than you, you aren’t worth their time, and that you were adopted and your parents kept it from you, all while dealing with you in the absolute most minute capacity they possibly can muster.

News Flash, Asshole! This isn’t my only job! I make $40/hr doing commissioned paintings, FOR FUN, while earning a 4-figure a week salary at my primary place of employment!  Do you make that much? No? Then promptly, kindly, and very sincerely, go fuck yourself with that cell phone, you self-important, self-centered, magnanimous piece of shit! You judge me, because I work in retail, then you get The Haymaker. No exceptions!

In talking to those I work with, those who’ve been in similar positions in similar retail ventures, it’s unanimous straight across the board: people hate waiting on someone who’s on the phone. Unless there’s a kidnapper with your child reading you their ransom demands, the President himself, or a surgeon talking you through how to save someone’s life while you do so, then get off phone when you get into my line. Otherwise I’ll cram it down your throat myself.

The Sentence Is: Death by telephone. If there is one thing, one SINGLE thing, that I love in this world,  it is definitely Coca-Cola. However, a fairly close second would probably be “poetic irony.” Just think of it: every time someone comes through your line babbling into their cell phone, they’re automatically brought to a labyrinth rife with deadly traps and perilous dangers, blindfolded, and the only way they can get out is if you guide them, from the other end of the telephone. It’s almost TOO good! Will you talk them into a precipice? Send them into a pack of voracious aardvark? Let them tumble into a hallway of flamethrowers? Oh, siiigh…

Just try not to have too much fun!

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The Crime: Unlawful Use of Welfare

Let me preface this entire section by saying I am in no way, shape, or form trying to inject any sort of political beliefs of my own into this article by remarking on the welfare system. Personally, I do believe drug testing should be mandatory for anyone receiving benefits, but that’s as far as I’ll go. That being said, if you go into a store, chattin’ it up on your brand new iPhone, with a BMW keyring dangling from your keys, then pay for a $10 jar of organic honey with your EBT card and then buy a pack of cigarettes with a $20 bill? Well, I don’t wanna say, “I’d push you off a cliff,” but I most certainly wouldn’t be diving to save your ass if you suddenly lost your footing.

A typical denizen of the retail world. But don't worry! They're putting your tax dollars to good use!

Just like any good thing in this world, the welfare system, which is in place to help those in legitimate and desperate need, is taken advantage of by those who want to take a shortcut or two just to help ease the burden of earning their keep. Ya know, like the rest of us.

Are you kidding me?

Is there a lowlier type of human being than these ingrates? I work my ass off, earning an honest living, in a retail world and elsewhere by working for my family and myself, and haven’t accepted any sort of state aid for myself even though I’ve desperately needed it in the past, and this asshole is paying for his groceries on my dime while helping himself to cigarettes and other treasures in abundance? A state-of-the-art smart phone? Luxury cars? This asshole needs a good ol’ fashioned dose of electroshock therapy… For starters…

Enjoy that organic honey, asshole. I’m paying for it, afterall.

The Sentence Is: Death by impending starvation. People who stand above others and shit on them while they do don’t deserve the benefit of the doubt, and don’t deserve mercy while we’re sentencing them accordingly.

In this instance, everyone who abuses the system will be sentenced to watch those they abused live I opulence. All the everyday working folk who slave away at dead end jobs to feed their families and keep food on the table will be gifted the excess food these douchers would have gotten with their state aid, and they get to enjoy it while these welfare abusers watch in abysmal, emaciated agony.

Dark? Sure. Disturbing? Perhaps. Deserving? Absolutely! Try to remember: these people are living large and comfortably off of YOUR hard work and sacrifice. Some people are just plain assholes and should be treated as such. So, let’s do what we have to, play the part of morally superior, and wipe those assholes!

Did I force that one? Maybe, yeah. What can I say? I can be a hemorrhoid.

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The Crime: Abiding Fictional Ransom Demands

The note looked something like this, I'd wager. Only I'm sure it was something I could take less seriously.

There are moments in life you just have to take a step back and stare in awe. Things you didn’t think could ever happen. Things that, by all rights, should never happen. No matter how hard you work, how hard you try, how wide you smile, it will never be enough for some people. You’ll offer any help you can, try and check their items out in the timeliest fashion possible, but it’s not enough. “This store’s always dirty,” or “There’s never enough registers open here,” or “I can never find what I want here,” or “I always spend way too much money here,” or some other comment that’s meant purely to dig at you. Hey, ya know what? DON’T SHOP HERE THEN, YOU MISERABLE, WASPY BITCH! Like, W-T-Fuck?! Should I donate one of my kidneys to you, just for good measure? See if you finally leave the store satisfied? TOO BAD! It’s MY kidney! I NEED IT! YOU CAN’T HAVE IT!

Seriously. Any time someone cops an attitude like this or throws out a barb like that, I just want to ask, “hey, where do you work? So I can come in there and ruin your day for you, too?” Because that’s ALL it is: they’re unhappy and want to make someone else feel badly, too. That’s it. These types of people weren’t hugged enough as children. Either that, or weren’t beaten hard enough by their parents. More likely a toss up between the two. Even though I’m pulling for the latter. In which case, I’m more than happy to pick up the slack.

Case in point: if you’re going to complain, at least let me take the time to fix it for you, otherwise keep it to yourself, or don’t come in at all, because I don’t care how busy you are, how late you are, how important you think your time is, if you’re just going to bitch for the sake of bitching, I’m going to stab you just for the sake of stabbing you.

Maybe. Try me and we’ll find out.

The Sentence Is: Death by preemptive eugenics. At first, I toyed with the idea of letting them continue on in their miserable existence, scraping by without an ounce of happiness, but I realized that meant they’d continue on making the rest of us miserable, and that’s what I’m here to fix! So, I determined we need to suss out this problem at the source. We need to nix these wasp-y little turds before they can grow into wasp-y shitheads. That’s right! I’m talking about eugenics! When they’re born we’ll put them into the Asshole-O-Meter15000 that I’m currently developing, and if they score anywhere between “Ignorant Douche” and “Hypocritical Twat,” it’s over the cliff they go!

What?! Don’t look at me all judgementally! It worked wonders for the ancient Greeks! And the Nazis!

Um… wow.

Ok, point taken.

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The Crime: Failure to Enter the 21st Century

"Oh, the total? Yes, it's $8.56. And then, I'll just need you to sign it. Your full name, yes, Mr. and Mrs. Antiquated Asshole, thank you.

Really? A check? No one pays by check anymore, you prehistoric twat. Get with the times. All you’re doing is holding up the line with your goddamn check-writing nonsense, Mr. and Mrs. Flintstone. In fact, I’ll help you out with this one by giving you a checklist to get yourself up to speed, ok?

1. __ Go to your bank.

2. __Get a debit card.

3. __ Play in traffic.

If you skipped straight to number three and ignored the first two, I wouldn’t be upset with you.

Honest.

The Sentence Is: Death by dinosaur. In honor of their inability to emerge from the stone age, I thought it would appropriate to have them contend with a denizen of their own time that I’m sure they’re quite familiar with: Dreadnoughtus schrani! Let’s let these fools try and survive the 85-foot long, 130,000 pound behemoth!

A little piece of plastic doesn’t seem like such a burden now, does it?

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The Storytellers

For me, and in my opinion, which is the best there is, there’s just nothing worse than someone rambling or trailing off when all you asked is a simple question. I’m just here to bag your groceries, not be your therapist.

“Do you have your Reward’s card?”

“No, I left it out in the car with my mother and two brothers and three sisters and my little pomeranian, Rex, because it’s below 64° outside which means if I don’t leave the heat on then my mother’s bowels will–“

Ok! Ok! I got it! All I needed was a simple, “no.” It’s not a complicated thing. “Yes” or “no,” that’s all I needed, and you couldn’t even handle that. Big surprise.

What could I possibly say that a Belcher child hasn't said for me?

And for Zeus’ sake, keep it short and sweet, please. Please! It’s actually really nice to have a quick little chat sometimes, if it’s not insanely busy, about what you’re making for dinner, something interesting that happened to you, the game, the weather, whatever. But I don’t need to hear about how you’re now living with your mother whom you didn’t really know your entire life and how difficult it’s going to be on you because the rest of your family just wanted to put her in a home but you just couldn’t bear to do that even though she left you and your siblings when you were younger and blah-blah-fuckin’-blah, GET OUT OF MY FACE!!! I don’t need to hear your entire life’s story here, Tolkien! I’m not getting paid by the word! Now get your groceries and get the hell out! Now! And if you hold up my line any longer by standing there at the end of the register and continuing to talk to me while I’m trying to wait on the next customer, I’m going to roundhouse your ass. Chuck Norris style: no hesitation and extreme prejudice.

The Sentence Is: Death by firing squad. Yup. That’s it. These douche bags don’t deserve anything elaborate or even funny. Just shoot these motherfuckers and get it other with.

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And there you have it! One of the greatest writing accomplishments of my entire life, 10 years in the making! I hope you guys enjoyed reading it and following along as much as I enjoyed writing it! And if you laughed at it, loathed it or loved it, I’d love to hear about it, so make sure to leave me a comment saying so! And, best of all, make sure to let me know what other crimes I may have missed that should go punished!

Thank you so much

 

Sourced from totally-biased.com

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Confessions of a Hooters Waitress

From $100 tips to fending off ‘pervy’ men and dealing with angry wives – the truth about America’s ‘working class sorority’

A 23-year-old from Washington, DC, has opened up about what it is really like to work at Hooters, the restaurant chain famous for its scantily-clad waitresses.

Claire Burgess, unemployed and on her way to Tennessee, decided to apply for a job at Hooters after stopping in for beer and buffalo wings, where she found everyone to be ‘very friendly’.

In a candid essay for xoJane , Miss Burgess opens up about the uncomfortable uniforms, the big tips, the ‘pervy’ and angry men, and their — at times — even angrier wives.

Scroll down for video 

Claire Burgess , unemployed and on her way to Tennessee, decided to apply for a job at Hooters after stopping in for a beer and buffalo wings, where she found everyone to be 'very friendly'

‘The customers are the best and worst part of the job,’ she writes, but it all depends on how they view the waitresses ‘as people’.

‘Most of the regulars were men, and some of them had a lot of money. It wasn’t unusual to receive a $100 tip on a Monday night after giving mediocre service to a couple of businessmen watching the football game.

And for regulars who come in every night, it is unofficial policy to tip $10 or more an hour for every hour they sit at a table, which Miss Burgess says adds up to around $50 by the end of the night.

‘For most, there was the unspoken exchange of money for some conversation and attention,’ she explains. ‘This is where Hooters really veers off and differs from your regular restaurants.

In a candid essay, Miss Burgess opens up about the uncomfortable uniforms, the big tips, the 'pervy' and angry men, and their -- at times -- even angrier wives

Though the famous spandex uniforms are 'extremely unflattering', Miss Burgess says there is an opportunity to make 'much more than at your average restaurant, all in a laid-back and fun environment'

‘Coined “entertainers,” Hooter Girls are expected and encouraged to chat and hang around with customers, which can be truly awesome, and also horrifying depending on the customers you’re stuck with.’

Families, blue collar workers, and ‘down-on-their-luck’ men who are ‘angry at women and the world’ meant mediocre tips ‘at best’.

At worst, she says, the women are ‘foaming at the mouth with anger and misplaced resentment’ toward Hooters waitresses, and the men are ‘drunk and pervy’, either ‘staring into the depths of your cleavage,’ or ‘slipping their arms around your waist, or in worse places,’ Miss Burgess reveals.

And a word of warning to men: ‘You’re not going to get a date at Hooters,’ she says.

Waitresses seen working in a Hooters restaurant, bringing its famous fast food fare to customers 

‘At the end of the night, most of us are throwing out handfuls of wadded up Post-its and napkins with phone numbers on them.’

Though the famous, tight orange spandex uniforms are ‘extremely unflattering’, Miss Burgess says there is an opportunity to make ‘much more than at your average restaurant, all in a laid-back and fun environment.’

‘In the time I worked at Hooters, all of the girls I worked with were either in school, raising families, helping out their relatives or just trying to make ends meet,’ she explains.

‘The other girls are truly the best perk of the job… I made lifelong friends working at Hooters that I never would have met anywhere else. We were a working class sorority: down to earth, fun-loving and crazy.’

Want to Be a Hooters Girl? Restaurant’s recruitment commercial

Sourced from Dailymail.com