stalking reading some of my favorite blogs tonight my friend Chelle (whom I love and adore…she is my kind of people) wrote a post about Hooters Girls and Margaritas. I could not help but to read this and DIE LAUGHING because I had a story to tell about this Hooters chick.
As you know I am a very patient and forgiving person. Not always to my children as I run a tight ship, but to the common moron I do give him or her a lot of slack. Pausing, smiling gently, but enough eye gesturing to suggest, “Did your dumbass really just say that?”
One day when The Chad and I were debating on where to grab a bite to eat before we ever had the kids. Albuquerque was rather limited in prime choices for dining delicacies, we settled on Hooters. They have decent food, I am a fan of the wings and they had beer specials. We head on over and seat ourselves in a relatively quiet and empty dining hall.
Greeted by our “perky” server with some bimbo-esque name, the borders on the air of wearing glitter, smelling of bubble gum lip gloss, and riding a pole (*cough* stripper) we order our drinks and peruse the menu. Feeling rather adventurous, and passing on the oysters this early in the day with a beer, I decide on a chickenÂ Caesar salad and an ice tea. I know…I am really living on the edge. I order and then The Chad orders.
Now here is where the waitress clearly needed a “I’m a blond…yah yah yah” audio dub insertion, a “Here’s your sign” slap, or “Are you stupid or something?” Because she bold faced turned back to me, looks me square in the face and asks,
“What kind of dressing do you want on that salad?”
I looked at The Chad who clearly just snarfed a beer through his nose and back into his mug. Which I made him drink. I look back at the waitress with her doe eyed expression, as she was awaiting my response and I again turn back to The Chad who is now occupying his attention on something other than my reaction. Clearly you could see I was wondering if she was joking. So I asked her. You are joking right?
“No, what kind of dressing do you want?”
“It’s a Caesar Salad…..” I trail off….nodding my head as if she is to have a light go off and go Oh right I knew that (hiccup)
Clearly. She. Does. Not. Get. It.
“I know. So what kind of dressing do you want.” Her tone beginning to have a twinge of annoyance.
I coldly replied to her without telling her she’s a moron or slapping her stupid face, I smile,
“It’s a Caesar salad. I would like CAESAR dressing.”
She walks off Â in a huff, as The Chad lets out a guffaw. Seriously? Who the hell orders a Caesar salad and doesn’t get Caesar dressing? WTF?!
4 Replies to “Hey Honey, It’s a Caesar Salad”
Which is why I don’t go to Hooters! I fully believe they have this test to see how dumb a woman is before they hire her. We had a huge thing in PC over a “toy yoda”! They did an advertisement for the waitress who got he most tips would win a Toy Yoda. The waitress thought it was a toyota. She took it to court on the suggestion of her sugar daddy and Hooters had to buy her a toyota.
LOL… Priceless story… You know she walked away thinking to herself.. “Who cares, my boobs are bigger than hers.”
Will you still be my buddy if I say I don’t like it with Caesar dressing? However, I wouldn’t expect to be asked. I would order the Caesar salad and then say I want another dressing instead.
I am Meg Ryan in When Harry Met Sally!