Andrea Hill's presence doesn’t need to be announced—it enters a room with her. She’s soft-spoken when she wants to be, but never invisible. She moves with the kind of grounded energy that tells you she’s walked through doubt, outpaced expectation, and now lives at the center of her own design.
Most mornings, Hill is up by 5:45 a.m. It’s quiet. She doesn’t reach for her phone. She prays. Then she presses play on Ricky Dillard’s “Consider It Done,” a gospel anthem she loops for clarity, confidence, and rhythm. “That song sets the tone for my whole day,” she said. “I play it on repeat until I feel charged enough to carry everyone and support those I am responsible for.” And she means that literally. By 7 a.m., Hill is often already in motion—making her way between stores across the Chicagoland region, sometimes on just a few hours of sleep.
During our interview, she was in the car, heading to two Hooters locations she oversees as Regional Director of Operations for HMC Hospitality Group. “I had to take this call while I’m out because today I’m driving to both Lansing and Oak Lawn,” she explained. “Sometimes I just need to be present. I want my team to know I see them. That they matter enough for me to show up.”
This, as Hill puts it, is what leadership looks like. Not just making decisions—but making yourself available. Not just managing numbers—but nurturing people. She doesn’t lead from behind a screen. She leads from the passenger seat of a moving car, from the corner booth of a restaurant that needs a little love, from a place of lived experience that informs every choice she makes.
And when Sheila E.’s “Glamorous Life” comes on during one of those drives—everything shifts. “That’s my song,” she says with a smile that hits before the words. “It just changes my mood. Makes me feel free. Reminds me I’m allowed to be light, too.” You get the sense that Hill is someone who takes life seriously—but not so seriously that she forgets how to enjoy it. Her joy is rooted, chosen, deliberate.
Hill’s first shift at Hooters came with no formal welcome—just tension. The woman assigned to train her that day wanted nothing to do with it. “She was very clear that she didn’t want to train me,” Hill said plainly. “And in that moment, I felt small. Unwanted.” But another woman, who would become one of Hill’s closest friends, Desi, stepped in without hesitation. “She took my hand. Literally,” Hill said. “She told me, ‘I got you.’ And that moment changed everything for me. I remember thinking—I want to be her for somebody else.”
She would become that woman for someone else, and then another, and then another. Not because it was required, but because it was right. Because she remembered what it was like to be unsure, to be new, to be looked past.
One wouldn’t believe that as a child, Hill was painfully shy. “I was so quiet growing up,” she said. “People think I’ve always been this confident, but I haven’t. Hooters was where I learned to use my voice.” She doesn’t say that lightly. “Some girls come in shy and leave confident women,” she added. “What’s wrong with that?”
The misconceptions about women who work at Hooters aren’t lost on Hill. In fact, she confronts them directly. “People see the uniform and make assumptions,” she said. “But we celebrate women in similar attire in sports and entertainment—Rockettes, cheerleaders. The only difference is the setting. And the confidence we gain? That’s real.” She notes that when people look at the women who’ve worn the uniform, they should also see the legacy: more than 400,000 women who’ve gone on to succeed across countless industries.
Over time, Hill transitioned from hostess to server to corporate trainer. She flew across the country training new staff in brand culture and customer care. “It wasn’t about just being cute,” she said. “You had to know your stuff. You had to be sharp. And you had to connect.”
While many were still seeing her in orange shorts, Hill was already building her résumé behind the scenes. Her first job outside of the front-of-house roles was as a file auditor. “That was my entry into the business side,” she said. “I was making sure all employee files were compliant. It sounds simple, but that job taught me the value of precision.”
Hill’s professional pivot was steady and intentional. She had been working in local news at the time, juggling a broadcasting schedule and part-time shifts at Hooters. “It took me a while to admit that broadcasting wasn’t my calling,” she said. “It’s hard to walk away from something you studied, something people expect you to do. But Hooters was the one space where I felt like I could grow for real.”
From audits to training, her trajectory within HMC Hospitality Group was marked by quiet readiness. Every time a new opportunity appeared, she had already done the work. “I didn’t know I was preparing,” she laughs. “I just kept saying yes.”
One of those yeses led to New York City—a place known for breaking people down before it builds them up. The opportunity came unexpectedly: a leadership role at one of the company’s flagship locations. Hill was hesitant. She had no desire to leave Chicago. But when she talked to her dad, he didn’t hesitate. “‘If you don’t take this,’ he told me, ‘they’re not going to offer it again.’” She trusted him. “So I packed up and left everything I knew.”
She arrived in New York with no fanfare, no warm welcome, and no built-in credibility. “They didn’t care who I was. I had to prove myself,” she said. And she did. Hill took one of the company’s flagship locations and reshaped its culture from the inside. “It was like building trust brick by brick,” she said. “I had to listen before I led.”
When Hill returned to Chicago, she brought more than just new strategies—she brought New York–style grit, stories, and standards. “New York changed how I lead,” she said. “I stopped trying to prove myself and started making space for others to rise.”
Today, Hill oversees multiple high-performing Hooters locations across the Chicagoland area as Regional Director of Operations for HMC Hospitality Group. But her reach extends far beyond operations.
In 2025, she was installed on the Board of Directors for the Illinois Restaurant Association and appointed to its Finance Committee—an acknowledgment of both her business acumen and the quiet authority she brings to every room. Hill also serves on several other boards and advisory panels, lending her perspective to causes that center mentorship, community partnerships, and the advancement of women in hospitality. Her seat at the table isn’t just symbolic—it’s active, earned, and deeply engaged.
Hill has been with HMC for over two decades—24 years, to be exact—and was promoted to the executive side 11 years ago. Her longevity is rare, and it’s not just because she’s good at what she does. It’s because she’s never lost sight of why she does it.
She builds relationships—with vendors, with community leaders, with team members. She’s known to show up at charity events, sponsor youth programs, and mentor young women in and outside of the industry. “You can’t ask people to care about work if you don’t care about them,” she said.
That commitment runs deep. Just days before our conversation, Hill worked a full shift and then drove to support her friend’s daughter at a school recital. “I was tired,” she admitted. “But it mattered to her. So I showed up.”
Hill’s voice softens when she talks about the people who raised her. “My dad is my rock,” she said. “He’s the reason I’m as driven as I am. He’s always pushed me when I needed it. He’s the one who told me to take New York. That voice of reason in my head—most times, it’s his.”
But the matriarchal thread runs even deeper. “My mom gave me patience,” Hill added. “She balanced out the intensity. Where my dad pushed, she steadied. She reminded me that being strong doesn’t mean being hard.”
And then, there’s her grandmother. “She made it her business to make sure I knew who I was,” Hill said, pausing.
Her grandmother raised foster children while caring for her own, running a household with grit and grace. “She gave everything she had to everyone around her. She never made me feel small. She made me feel chosen.”
It’s here that Hill gets emotional, her words slowing, deepening. “I learned so much from watching her. She showed me what it meant to give without needing recognition. To love without condition. That’s the kind of leader I try to be.”
Her grandmother’s home in Chicago Heights, she said, was the center of everything. “That’s where we came back to. That’s where I learned to work. To serve. To stand tall.”
Even now, Hill thinks about the legacy she’s building—not just in the corporate sense, but in the spirit of the women who shaped her. “It’s not about being the loudest voice in the room,” she said. “It’s about being the one people know they can count on. That’s what she was. That’s what I want to be.”
When asked what she would say to the younger version of herself, Hill doesn’t hesitate. “She was painfully shy,” she said. “I would tell her: ‘You are perfect exactly where you are, exactly how you are, exactly who you are.’”
There’s a tenderness in her voice now. “I spent a lot of years thinking I had to be louder. Or smaller. Or more agreeable. I thought I had to do everything on someone else’s timeline. But I didn’t. I don’t.”
She takes a deep breath. “There is nothing wrong with being exactly who you are. You are not late. You are not behind. You are not lacking.”
For Hill, time has taught her not just resilience, but clarity. She’s done shrinking. “We’re so busy telling people to dream big, but we don’t give them space to evolve,” she said. “I would tell her to take her time. That there’s beauty in blooming when you're ready.”
Looking ahead, Hill’s vision is striking in its fullness. “Prayerfully,” she said, “I will be a mother, a wife, and a CEO.” And when she says it, there’s no hesitation. “Everything I’ve walked through is shaping me for that. I believe what I’ve learned will lend itself to all three of those things that are really important to me.”
She doesn’t see leadership and family as opposing forces. She sees them as different expressions of the same gift: presence. “Whether I’m in a boardroom or at home or sitting across from someone who just needs to be heard—I want to be someone who knows how to show up.”
Leadership, for Hill, isn’t about climbing a ladder—it’s about building a platform. It’s about making space where others didn’t. It’s about carrying what her grandmother handed her, what her father instilled in her, and what her team reminds her of every single day.
She’s not interested in being the face of something. She’s interested in being the force behind it. “I don’t need the spotlight,” she said. “I just need to know that when I show up, it means something.”
For the women coming behind her, Hill hopes her presence gives them permission to lead their own way. “There is no one version of what success looks like,” she said. “You can do it in heels or sneakers. Quietly or boldly. You just have to do it from a place of knowing who you are.”
In an industry that can burn people out, Hill is still glowing—not because she hasn’t been tested, but because she’s stayed lit from within. Her kind of leadership doesn’t come with applause. It comes with impact. With consistency. With presence.
And sometimes, with a gospel song playing in the background. Or the spark of recognition when someone walks into a room and knows she’s in charge—not because she says so, but because they feel it. Because that’s Andrea Hill.
And that’s the heart of a leader.