Classic Karens Wreak Havoc
Karens seem to be everywhere these days, but some really know how to go the extra mile. These entitled gems pull all sorts of antics, from harassing customer service workers to throwing full-blown tantrums over nothing.
Of course, as poisonous as they are, their idiocy is SO ridiculous—it's impossible to look away.
1. At The Tipping Point
My mom is a Karen. She was always finding coupons for restaurants, and that decided where we would eat. My family was not poor. One day when I was about 15, she and I had lunch at a Tex-Mex place with a buy one get one coupon deal. The total bill ended up being around $11. My mom tipped $1. Oh, but she got what was coming to her.
The server ran out to the parking lot and handed it back to her saying, "You must need this more than me".
2. All Yolked Up
Once, when I was working at this insanely popular breakfast joint, this seemingly adorable old couple walked in. After I ran them through our specials at their request, the woman ordered the duck hash, and the man ordered two boring poached eggs on toast. All was good...until I brought them their food. The guy started freaking out, and when I asked him what was wrong, his response made my blood boil.
Apparently, he was upset that I didn't bring him a tablespoon for his eggs. Granted, he didn't ask for one, but according to him, everyone knows that poached eggs are supposed to be served with a tablespoon.
I've been a waitress for nearly a decade and I've served many poached eggs—yet I never heard this rule. Nevertheless, I apologized profusely and told him I would go grab him a spoon.
I thought that would be the end of it, but I was wrong. He proceeded to yell, "No! My breakfast is ruined now!" Then, he threw his plate of food at me and stormed out. His wife gave me a sympathetic smile as she slinked out behind him.
I had to work the next eight hours with egg yolk stains all over me.
3. Clinging To The Vine
I worked at a vineyard where we got the occasional limo full of sloshed people. We do not allow them in because we are not a bar and do not serve trashed people.
Occasionally, the manager is away from the door, and that is when these people will attempt to sneak in. I had to approach one of them and tell them politely that their party had too much to drink and had to leave.
Well, turns out she was the Karen of all Karens. Her answer made me clench my fist: "I'm not going anywhere". I assured her that my staff would not serve her, so it was pointless to insist on staying. I told her if she didn’t leave within five minutes, she would be escorted out by an officer. She didn’t believe me, so I called the local officer we have on-call right in front of her.
I said, "He is on his way. I suggest you leave if you want to save yourself the embarrassment". As I was going out the side door to get the number off the limo’s plate, she followed me into the back office. Her next move had me livid. She pushed me into a filing cabinet and said, "WE AREN’T LEAVING". Then, her group came back, grabbed her, and they sped off in their limo.
The officer arrived a minute later, and I gave him the plate number to give them a little scare. All this for a glass of vino. It happens at least three to five times a year.
4. Border Brouhaha
My mother is a Karen who also happens to be totally fluent in Spanish. We were at the Mexico City airport flying to Juarez. We were bringing back a bunch of plates and stuff my mom got while we were there. They were in this huge box.
When we got to the check-in counter, the guy said she needed to have the box wrapped. My mother became deeply offended by that.
She yelled, “WELL, I’VE NEVER HAD TO DO THAT BEFORE!! I BRING STUFF FROM MEXICO CITY ALL THE TIME, AND I’VE NEVER HAD TO DO THAT”! Her screaming caused some bewildered stares in her direction.
This was a very white woman arguing angrily in absolutely flawless Spanish. That in itself was intriguing enough.
The guy again demanded that she needed to go get the box wrapped with tape, and that would be an extra charge of about 200 pesos (around $10).
Instead of doing that, she stormed off, leaving a massive, unidentified box completely unattended—just what airport announcements always tell you NEVER TO DO.
My dad and I had already checked in and made it through security while this was unfolding.
My mom joined us at the gate in a huff, regaling us about this slight against her honor. Just as she finished, karma came for her. Five security officers walked up to her—AR-15s at their sides—and asked her to confirm her name. When she did, they yanked her up and started dragging her away. My dad—an attorney—had a “holy cow” moment.
We went running after her. My dad did his lawyer thing; she didn’t get taken in for terroristic threats, and we somehow made our flight. We also managed to get that box of plates back home as well. I make fun of her every time we use them.
