A Night At Hooters in Savannah, GA

On my last night in Georgia, before returnning to the Pacific NW, I decided to conduct a purely sociological experiment in dining by going to a local Hooters. After all, I was hungry, Hooters was nearby, I had never been to one, I had heard all kinds of stories about it, and I just had to check it out. In fact, since Hooters has made money hands over feet, or over other body parts, I thought that a trip to Hooters might also give me some clues as to a good model for a future business I might like to begin (not as a restaurateur, however). Thus, I had three good reasons for going--I was hungry; I was doing some "research"; I was trying to figure out what made a growing business "tick." Ten years ago, I would have said, I wanted to learn the "thrust" of the business, but we don't talk that way anymore in America (just like we don't call "flip-flops," which most teenagers wear, "thongs" anymore--though they were called that for years, as I recall).

So, I waited until about 9:00 p.m., took a break from my writing and then ambled over to the Savannah Hooters. Located just off I-95 at Exit 94, Hooters' distinctive orange lights and signage was hard to miss. It was a Tuesday night, and as I entered, one of the "Hooterettes" (there must be a better name for them), smiled and told me to take any available table. Several were free, since a Tuesday night in September isn't usually the hot sports night. Indeed, before I sat down I noticed a sign that said that in really busy times, patrons are seated "stadium style." I suppose in most restaurants this would be known as "family-style," but since Hooters makes its money on sports and sports bras, they probably don't want the word "family" used very often in their literature. It is ironic, I thought, that Hooters has flourished in the most "family-values" states. It must be that "stadium values" are right up there with God and the family.

Understanding the Appeal of Hooters

It wasn't hard to discern right away what Hooters was banking on to pad its profits. The combination of the attempt to create a sports culture for the guys supported by a bunch of springy-stepped, flowing-haired, very short-shorts-attired waitresses, some of whom possessed, as the medical professionals say, pronounced secondary physical characteristics, has apparently been quite successful. Last night there were about 40 patrons in the restaurant, 95% of whom were male. They were mostly guys in their 20s and 30s, the ball cap-wearing, mustache-sporting, State U-graduating, ravenously-eating, already-overweight men who make sure that the NFL and the NBA are the most lucrative leagues in American professional sports.

While I was looking around and taking a peek at the colorful menu, my server came to the table. Identifying herself as "Julie," (not her real name), she like millions of other waiters/waitresses in America, wanted to take my order. My hopes were raised immediately when she wanted to see my ID when I ordered a beer. 'Surely,' I thought, she was "looking me up.'" No such luck, of course. They just card everyone.

We engaged in some light banter for a minute, and in that short minute I perceived that she wasn't the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree. But then it dawned on me that the reason she got the job was probably not because of her mental firepower. Indeed, as she walked away from me, I looked after her to see the Hooters "motto" written on the back of her shirt: "Delightfully Tacky, yet Unrefined." I thought about that motto for a second, and then realized that I had no idea what it meant. In fact, I think it was probably intended to create among the male clients the sense that nothing coming from their brain would be of much importance in the restaurant. Hooters probably wishes the blood would flow from the brain to other parts of the anatomy.

The Sports Culture

When Applebee's Restaurant became an invasive species in the American restaurant scene about 20 years ago, it tried to create a culture of community by putting photos on the wall of local notables hugging babies, coaching little league or other things that make for a healthy community. Sports bars, which sprung up like the Georgia kudzu in the 1980s, put sports memorabilia on the walls of the bar--usually a signed baseball, a ball cap, or, after 1995, OJ's Heisman Trophy. But Hooters has a slightly different philosophy of pictures on the walls. While the big screen TVs are blaring all over the place (Atlanta was playing baseball last night. I recall they were ahead...or were they behind?), one can either watch the mindless action or look at the photogenic Hooterettes on the wall, who show us how many ways there are to smile and try to fake having a...good time.

So, I ordered something not-too-exciting off the menu, drank a beer, looked around, wolfed down the meal and quickly paid for it. Even though the waitresses often would join a table "of the guys" to chew the fat for a few minutes (they probably were having mercy on the regular customers), none came to talk with me. And, it is probably just as well. I, who usually consider myself a skilled interlocutor, don't think I would have known where to begin the conversation. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, however; and so I just whirled around in my chair to look at the various folks every once in a while, and then turned back to my food. I gave "Julie" a generous tip, but I think my motivation for doing so was more out of pity than out of gratitude or a desire to "catch her eye." Indeed, if there was such a thing as "sexual tension" in the air, I was completely oblivious to it. But, then again, it certainly wouldn't have been the first time that I had missed that. Everyone, it seemed, was having a good time.

Hooters in Court

Well, not everyone has had a good time at Hooters. Shortly after Hooters started spreading like Chinese tallow trees, it was taken to Court by seven men who argued that the sole focus on providing female "wait staff" for customers violated their rights under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964. Anyone who has argued a Title VII employment discrimination case knows that the employer has a classic defense it brings to explain why it only hires a certain class of people for waiters. It is called the "BFOQ" defense: "bona fide occupational qualification." That is, restaurants are permitted, if the creation of a certain environment is essential to their business, to hire people who fit that environment. Thus, an Indian Restaurant may hire just people of Indian descent for servers; a Chinese Restaurant may do the same with Chinese people.

The legal question before the court was whether being a shapely young woman was a legitimate "BFOQ" in order for Hooters to be Hooters. The arguments were actually pretty interesting. Of course, the plaintiffs argued discrimination across the board, but Hooters responded that their "core business" was to provide "vicarious sexual recreation." So Hooters tried to use female sexuality as a BFOQ. Now, this would have worked if Hooters was the Playboy Club of Chicago or elsehwere. But, in fact, Hooters advertisements were presented in evidence, and the major point (not "thrust") of the advertisements was that Hooters was a restaurant, even a family-friendly restaurant, and not a place offering "sexual recreation." The men won $2 million, and their attorneys got $1.75 in legal fees. Hooters agreed to create three "gender neutral positions." Wait staff could still be "Hooters Girls," but now they will be assisted by "Hooter's Persons," who were hired without regard to gender. I wonder how many of the guys who won the lawsuit rushed to apply for such a position...

Conclusion

Ever since my divorce was finalized on 10/1/01, I have been in the strange (and mostly not wonderful) world of dating and getting to know single women again. I have long wondered what were the characteristics I would most seek in a future partner. Well, over the years, I have seemingly done more narrowing of the list of attractive characteristics/persons than widening it. And, alas, after visiting Hooters in Savannah, I must reluctantly now cross "Hooter Girls" off my potential spouse list...

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