You Can Learn a Lot at Hooters

September 10, 2006 11:05 AM (Archive)

In case you don’t know, Hooters is an Atlanta-based saloon chain that purveys cold beer; and hires pretty girls to bring it to your table. It’s a Southern chain - based in steamy Atlanta - so these girls are sensibly dressed, for comfort. Less is better, you might say.

And besides being climatically correct, they radiate Southern hospitality. They smile a lot. A Hooter's girl might even plop down next to you and chat about inflation/deflation, the Fed funds rate, or the rise of the Euro. Stuff like that. They’re friendly, but that’s all. That’s Hooters. (I suspect they call it Hooters because it rhymes with Shooters.)

Actually, Hooters, in an age of globalization, has imported a Japanese concept without paying a single penny for import duties. Cheaper to transport than a 2800-pound Toyota and needing no refrigeration like Sushi. It's called the Geisha concept - a simple truth noted by Japanese saloonologists sometime early in the Meji dynasty.

It postulates that Japanese guys drinking beer liked to watch pretty Japanese girls smiling at them. Much fun. Consequently, male Japanese beer drinkers prefer an establishment employing young lotus blossoms to one employing Sumo wrestlers who dripped belly sweat into the beer. Now, Hooters has discovered - no surprise - in an age of cultural uniformity that American guys ALSO prefer the companionship of curvy cuties to Sumo wrestlers or even one hundred percent American truck drivers

Hooters is a thoughtful, intellectual bower where you can sip a Miller’s lite - work the kinks out of your imperfect mind - and observe the lilies in the garden of life. In addition to its inspirational qualities, this organization is NOT an equal opportunity employer. Miss Alabama and her sorority sisters will be signed to an employment contract well before they even interview your sister-in-law.

But believe it or not, this paradisiacal concept was attacked by the U.S. Government and a group of wannabe employees - all males. And though not endowed by their creator with certain inalienable sights, they sued this corporation that offers a gift-wrapped package of beer, snacks, and beauty. The Government Equal Opportunity folks cheered and contributed a corps of lawyers to the contest. The male plaintiffs - who looked clownish in orange tights and thin, white tops - shouted, “We, too, wanta bring beer to the thirsty multitudes�?.

The plaintiff’s point - agriculturally stated - was that Hooters should plant their garden with some crabgrass, too - like them. The Hooters legal team made the point that their product line was beauty, and crabgrass doesn’t belong in a garden. Legally, its too complicated for the non-legal mind, but it’s sort of like a buyer suing General Motors because there wasn’t a a pairof skates in the trunk. And General Motors replying that their product is speedy transportation, which obviates the use of skates. (It's rumored that part of the legal compromise that settled the Hooter’s issue was the disproportionate employment of crabgrass - uh, I mean guys - in the kitchen.)

Like I say, you can learn a lot at Hooters. For example - visit before last - I noticed that one of the lilies that decorated the garden never brought you beer. She was just there. Like Venus at dusk, like sunrise over Bali, like my backyard Tulip tree in late March. As radiant as Spring she was.

Strange, she took orders, but never delivered the goods. Even though two lite beers dulled my analytic capability, still I sensed some bureaucratic artificiality undercutting the cliffs of freedom. I called over the manager and courteously requested an explanation. “Oh, Vanessa, yeah State law prohibits her from carrying beer. She’s old enough to work and even pour the beer for a customer to brighten his day. But she better not carry it. That is against the law. Ah the subtle logic of the governmental mind. The same infallible logic that allows my neighborhood grocery to sell Burgundy, Merlot, Chardonay, but not Sherry. Too strong, you see. If it’s Sherry you crave, you must patronize the State-owned liquor store. I guess the logic is that if you have to endure inefficiency, discourtesy, and a bloated price at the State Store, you’ll drink less Sherry. Your governor has so decided.