Interview #2

You see it all the time: billboards and flyers with half-naked girls carrying platters of food and mugs of beer. 

The fact is, sex sells. The restaurant industry knows it, which is why many restaurants openly advertise female sexuality to bring in male clientele. As a girl growing up in Tennessee, it was Hooters. In Texas, it's Twin Peaks.

Recently, I was fortunate enough to meet a former Twin Peaks Girl who was willing to share her story.

Even if you are already familiar with Twin Peaks, please take 2.5 minutes to watch this: http://vimeo.com/30208661

Yep, you read that t-shirt correctly: My Favorite Breastaurant. I won't dive too far into the details of our conversation, but let's start by noting the woman narrating that video, Meggie. She is the Marketing Director (a.k.a. image consultant) for the Twin Peaks Girls. She is the one who ultimately got my interviewee fired.

Q: ”Why were you fired?” 

A: “Because I was too fat.”

In fact, the image standards for Twin Peaks Girls span across a variety of categories for which the girls are inspected weekly. These include hair, makeup, fitness, uniform, etc. The girls receive a letter-grade (A/B/C/D/F) in each category for the week, and these grades determine a ranking of the girls. These grades are then posted on a chart in the kitchen for all employees to see, and the TOP 10 girls get first choice on sections during shifts, along with other perks. This rating scale has nothing to do with performance or sales; it is solely based on appearance.


That's as far as I'm willing to divulge for now. I'll just say, the life of a Twin Peaks Girl ain't all cleavage and smiles, folks.

Interview #1:

Check!


The scariest part of any project is the first stage. You have to take those terrifying steps into the unknown, in order to find a groove and see where it leads. That said, I have taken the first few steps toward creating my solo performance based on women in the restaurant industry. I have the money and the people. Now it's time to make things happen!


The first interviewee is a friend who has worked at the same restaurant for the past year. She was a hostess there previously and is now a server.


The thing that stuck out most to me from her stories was the "family" mentality of the employees, particularly of the servers.  This surprised me, as it presents a stark contrast to the machine that is the restaurant business. From her interview, I have constructed a family outline of her restaurant.

THE FAMILY:

Managers are the parents. Male and Female. There are two "nice" parents (the two males) and a "strict" parent (the female). This family is a matriarchy.

Servers are the children. Males and Females. The older ones (long-term employees) look out for the younger ones (short-term employees). They are assigned daily chores, and they play games to make work fun (competing to see who gets the best tips).

Kitchen staff and busboys are the Uncles. Males. Helpful, good-hearted, but sometimes too friendly.

Hostesses are the distant cousins. Females. Loved but usually out-of-the-loop. They don't have to wear uniforms like the rest of the family.

If outsiders (Customers) threaten this harmony, the Family sticks together.

Although the money is not great, this particular interviewee said she is staying at the restaurant because of the people--that is, the family. If she were to quit, she would betray the family's trust and be disowned, essentially. I find it both fascinating and unsettling to think that the line between professional and personal life is often so blurred in restaurants. 

This gray area bleeds into customer relations as well. The interviewee said that many men who dine at her restaurant understand that her being friendly is part of her job. She also said that many men do not understand this and instead think she is interested in them personally. She often receives telephone numbers/messages left on receipts or is verbally hit on by male customers. One patron went so far as to say, "I like to watch you walk." But as the interviewee pointed out, playing along with these advances (giving a performance) is part of doing her job well.

It seems that some male patrons use the customer role to empower themselves over women--that is, the female servers. The interviewee repeatedly said that many "mean" customers like to "bark (her) around" when she is waiting on them. To them, she wishes she could say, "I am a server, not a servant."

The first dig

For the next two months, I will be researching the experiences of women in the restaurant industry. I received an Unbridled Learning grant from SMU to conduct interviews with female servers, hostesses, and bartenders in Dallas, and to use their stories to create and perform a solo performance piece in the fall of 2012. The goal of the project is to expose some of the expectations and pressures placed on female workers in restaurants. For example:
How is the female worker expected to "perform" for customers?
What demands are placed on the female worker's appearance? 
How does sexuality factor into the female worker's interactions with customers? 
How does the female worker's job differ from her male coworkers'?


I am incredibly intimidated to begin these interviews--to cross the delicate line from patron to investigator.


How to approach these women: that is the question. I have worked as a hostess in several restaurants, and I cannot imagine where I would begin if asked to tell stories about my experiences from the host stand. A loyalty forms between workers in restaurants as all staff members, from the kitchen to the floor staff, work together to make the job as not-excruciating as possible. An outsider attempting to peek in (a.k.a. me) could potentially threaten this harmony, which is exactly why my job is not an easy one. 


It is the theatre artist's job to stir up the ordinary and to question the way society operates. So although my job is admittedly not the most desirable or familiar, I must press onward to find out which questions need to be investigated.


I'll be blogging about my findings, so be sure to check in throughout the summer. Wish me luck!

REPOSTED FROM "15 Things Happy People Do Differently":

5. MEANING vs. AMBITION.  They do the things they do because of the meaning it brings into their lives and because they get a sense of purpose by doing so. They understand that “Doing what you love is the cornerstone of having abundance in your life” like Wayne Dyer puts it, and they care more about living a life full of meaning rather than, what in our modern society we would call, living a successful life.

The irony here is that most of the time they get both, success and meaning, just because they choose to focus on doing the things they love the most and they always pursue their heart desires. They are not motivated by money; they want to make a difference in the lives of those around them and in the world.

Lately I have been questioning the "addictions" I have. To list a few, I might say I am addicted to coffee, cigarettes, sweets, and men.  These are things I turn to on a daily basis for comfort. But are they really addictions, or simply rituals that I perform out of habit? 
I lean toward the latter.


addictionnoun1 his heroin addiction dependency, dependence, habit, problem.2 a slavish addiction to fashion devotion to, dedication to, obsessionwith, infatuation with, passion for, love of, mania for, enslavement to.
ritualnounan elaborate civic ritual ceremony, rite, ceremonial, observance; service,sacrament, liturgy, worship; act, practice, custom, tradition,convention, formality, procedure, protocol.
I am not a slave to my habits. I practice them daily out of obligation to my own sense of identity. These rituals of drinking coffee, smoking, eating sweets, and flirting with men are engrained into my daily behavior. They remind me of who I am: who I think myself to be. But I can change them if I so choose. A friend once told me that any change you wish to see in yourself should become "daily practice." One day at a time, you can change your rituals and therefore change your identity.No addiction is unconquerable.
"I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul."from "Invictus" by William Ernest Henley

Restless

My biggest fear is losing an inch of my freedom.


I have known one too many a girl who surrendered her own ambitions to fulfill a man's. I have felt one too many times the grasp of an institution pulling me back, ordering me to live by its rules. I have run from one too many relationships, platonic and romantic alike, fearing that I might lose a part of myself if I let someone in too close.


Each time I perform, I feel a surge of energy as I surrender myself to whatever might happen once I enter that scary, mysterious place called the stage. In my life, though, I will do almost anything to avoid that feeling of surrender. I want control. I need control.


I need control so badly that I will destroy anything that seeks to take it away from me.
This small town tries to keep me from doing big things? I'll move to Dallas.
The law says I can't drink until I'm 21? I'll get a fake i.d.
Some boy wants to make me his girlfriend? I'll stop returning his calls.


Perhaps this need to control is what led me to directing. I feel at peace when I am in complete control of a rehearsal, deciding exactly what needs work when and how to go about doing that work. It's HEAVEN!


If only this quality could have an off switch, I would be a perfectly productive, happy human being, rather than a twenty-one-year-old workaholic.

From "Songs of Myself" by Walt Whitman

A child said What is the grass? 

fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more
than he.

I guess it must be the flag of my disposition, out of hopeful green

stuff woven.

Or I guess it is the handkerchief of the Lord,

A scented gift and remembrancer designedly dropt,

Bearing the owner's name someway in the corners, that we may see

and remark, and say Whose?

Or I guess the grass is itself a child, the produced babe of the

vegetation.

Or I guess it is a uniform hieroglyphic,

And it means, Sprouting alike in broad zones and narrow zones,

Growing among black folks as among white,

Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff, I give them the same, I

receive them the same.

And now it seems to me the beautiful uncut hair of graves.

Tenderly will I use you curling grass,

It may be you transpire from the breasts of young men,

It may be if I had known them I would have loved them,

It may be you are from old people, or from offspring taken soon out

of their mothers' laps,

And here you are the mothers' laps.

This grass is very dark to be from the white heads of old mothers,

Darker than the colorless beards of old men,

Dark to come from under the faint red roofs of mouths.

O I perceive after all so many uttering tongues,

And I perceive they do not come from the roofs of mouths for

nothing.

I wish I could translate the hints about the dead young men and

women,

And the hints about old men and mothers, and the offspring taken

soon out of their laps.

What do you think has become of the young and old men?

And what do you think has become of the women and children?

They are alive and well somewhere,

The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,

And if ever there was it led forward life, and does not wait at the

end to arrest it,

And ceas'd the moment life appear'd.

All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,

And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier.

[taken from princeton.edu]

little things

"God is in the details."

my cup of tea*

rest in peace*

une fleur*

New Year

I declare 2012 a time for Self-reconstruction.

Lately I, like many others, have been driven toward self-destructive habits. Smoking, binge drinking, eating junk food, laying in bed until after noon, ignoring problems instead of solving them, sulking in the past instead of working toward the future, waiting for opportunities to present themselves instead of making things happen for myself. 


I didn't think I would make a New Year's resolution this year. I usually do, but this year, it felt unnecessary. That is, until I found myself sitting in a hotel room at 3 AM on New Year's, drunk as a skunk, hookahed up, body aching, empty Mcdonald's bag bedside, and most importantly, facing the deep unhappiness that has been hanging over me for a while now. I realized last night that I had a resolution to make after all: it's time to end this self-destruction.


I've always had supportive friends, family, and community here in Knoxville. At some point after I moved to Dallas (which was over two years ago), I began to take that support for granted. I felt invincible, and I suppose I wanted to test the limits of my comfortable life; see how messy things could get. And they got quite messy, indeed. 
One of my favorite movie quotes comes to mind: "I'm such an unholy mess of a girl." That's from The Philadelphia Story (1940).  Unfortunately, living as an unholy mess isn't as glamorous as it sounded coming from Katherine Hepburn. 
Sorry, Kate. You're on your own now.