Ashlyn--Hi ho, it's off to work I go

One more day of training and I’ll be an official Headlights girl. The last two weeks have gone by quickly, which is good, because I’m ready to make some serious tip money. Speaking of tips, I had no idea how much a Headlight girl could make in an evening when I signed up for this gig; I just needed a job. I’ve had to “shadow” several of the girls these past two weeks, which means I followed them around and helped out where I could, and on nights when there was a Red sox game playing—there is a big screen TV in every corner of the restaurant-- the girls made almost two hundred a night. Not bad for schlepping chicken wings and beer.

A typical night as a Headlights girl involves a lot of flirting, taking food orders, running food to the guests, running drinks from the bar, hula-hoop contests, dancing the hokey-pokey, and limbo contests. All the contests and dancing are designed to get the girls bouncing and gyrating, giving a show to the guys.

I have been able to shadow my friend Heather several times. She’s been a huge help to me and has made me feel more comfortable.

“The secret to being a good Headlights girl is to think of the job like you are playing a role in a play: you’re an all American girl who oozes sexiness. You flirt, you smile and make conservation. At the end of the meal you draw a smiley face on their bill and sign it. If you’re a real clever girl you remember something you talked about with them and you jot a note on their bill as well.”

She pulled out a bill from her pouch and pointed to a group of guys in the corner. They had obviously come to Headlights after their softball game as they were still in their team’s uniform. On the bill, under a smiley face and extremely girly signature, Heather had written: Good luck! Come back and let me know if you guys do make it into the playoffs!

“I think it creates a connection between you and the guest. When I first started doing it I was amazed by how much better my tips got. Of course, you my not need to do much for tips, you got a lot going for you as it is.”

“What do you mean?” I wasn’t following her thinking.

She pointed at my boobs. “Girls with bigger boobs always make better tips.”

In the last nine months of my new life, the attention my body has generated has been fun for me. So far I haven’t had to deal with much negative attention. There have been a few times when guys have gotten a little pushy, demanding I give them my number or dance with them--and when I pushed back I got called a “cock tease”—but those times are few and far between.

But I’m getting a whole new education working at Headlights. I now know why women refer to men as pigs. Don’t misunderstand, most of the guys who come into Headlights are cool, and the flirting is light and fun—but there is another type of guy the restaurant seems to attract…the creepy guy.

I’ve been at this job for two weeks—and remember, I’m not a waitress yet, I shadow waitresses—and I’ve run across 4 truly creepy guys. I guess I average two a week, it will be interesting to see if that remains true.

Creepy guys are usually in their late thirties to late forties. They generally sit alone. They sometimes employ the comb over and are usually forty to fifty pounds overweight. Somehow creepy guys always have money—they have lots of cash and like to wave it around--I’m guessing they are seeing what they can attract with it.

It’s not those qualities that make them creepy. A lot of guys could be described like. I was kind of one of those guys once: I was 30 pounds overweight, often sat alone, and while I didn’t wave my money around, my expensive laptop and cell phone I carried with me constantly, did let people know I was doing alright financially. No, it’s those qualities and an intangible. There is something ‘dark’ about these men—it makes me wonder if there is something to ‘female intuition’.

Headlights is a sexually charged kind of place; when you put the girls in tight little outfits you expect the guys to check the girls out. The creepy guy takes it a bit farther; he doesn’t just check the girls out, he stares. Heather called it the “1000 yard stare”.

I was shadowing Heather when I met my first truly creepy guy. When he saw two headlight girls walk up to the table he commented “Oh, how nice. A twosome.”

One of the “techniques” they us in Headlights girl school is that if there are empty seats at a table, and feel that the guests would be comfortable with it, to sit down at that table. It gives the feeling like you are joining them for dinner. Heather and I did this at the creepy guys table—we hadn’t for sure labeled him a creepy guy yet—and it kind of pushed him over the edge into full creepiness. His eyes never once left my boobs. I’ve dealt with elevator eyes before—even Matt my boyfriend does it—but this was different. His stare was so intense, it was…well, creepy. Heather takes his order and we move to get up from the table; my hand was resting on the table and he lays his hand on top of mine, stopping me.

“Do you have to go?” He’s talking to me, blatantly staring at my cleavage.
I give him the patented Headlights smile—eye contact was impossible. “I’ll be right back with your drink order.” I tell him cheerfully.

A food order was screwed up at another of Heather’s tables, so she ran into the kitchen to fix it. I ended up bringing creepy guy’s drink order to him by myself.

As I set his beer on the table he finally looked me in the eyes. “I’ll give you $500 to come back to my place and watch movies with me. I’ll even let you pick the movies.”

He was serious. Scary serious.

I think I took a step back away from him in surprise. “Um, sorry. I don’t think my boyfriend would like that.”

“Oh? What if you didn’t have a boyfriend? What if something happened to him? What if he mysteriously died?”

I was shocked. Did this total stranger just threaten to harm Matt? I started to say something, but stopped--part of the job of a Headlights girl is dealing with the creeps. I was just expecting something more like some guy grabbing my ass—not physical threats from some scary guy.

I ended up just turning and walking away.

Two days later I ran into my next creep. The creep was sitting alone, balding, and his belly hung over his belt. When the girl I was shadowing—I think her name was Melody--asked him for his ID, he leaned back in his chair and grabbed his crotch. “You girls want to see my ID? I’ll show it to you.” His fingers grabbed his zipper, posed to unzip his pants.

“Sir, I can’t bring you your beer without your ID.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” He zips open his fly, reaches in and pulls out his cock.

Melody gasps in surprise. I step away and grab Jorge. Jorge is Rick’s (the manager) younger brother, and a behemoth of a man. Jorge title is the assistant manager—but what he really does is act as the bouncer. I explained to Jorge the situation, he very politely thanked me for telling him, and he marched over to the creep. I didn’t hear what Jorge said to the guy, but the guy quickly zipped up his pants and got up to leave. Jorge waved Melody and I over.

“This very rude gentleman has something he wants to say to you.” Jorge’s voice had a slight edge, and he gave the creep a slight push in the back.

“Um, yeah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m leaving, and I won’t be back.”

The creep turned to leave and Jorge stopped him. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh yeah.” He reaches into his pocket, pulls out his wallet, and pulls out two 50 dollar bills. He hands one to each of us. “Here’s your tip.”

At this point Jorge grabs the back of the creep’s collar and leads him away and out the front door. Jorge was back a few moments later.

“I am so sorry that happened. Ashlyn, please don’t think things like that happen all the time. We run a—I mean, this is a good—he won’t be back.” He was flustered, and his face turned red. “I’m needed in the kitchen.” And he quickly walked away.

Melody turned to me. “I’ve never seen Jorge upset like that.” She gives me a knowing smile. “I think he has a crush on you.”

Great. Just what I need.


Ashlyn