Apparently wanting good service makes me a meme now. When did basic standards become controversial?
Last week, a teenager called me a Karen. To my face. In a frozen yogurt establishment. I had simply asked—politely, I might add—to speak to a manager about a topping discrepancy. And for this, someone labeled me. Being called a Karen marks you with the new scarlet letter, and I will not stand for it.
I didn’t ask for this. Consequently, I didn’t ask to become a symbol of everything wrong with a generation that can’t handle constructive feedback. All I wanted was the correct amount of mochi on my yogurt.
What Being Called A Karen Really Means
When someone calls you a Karen, they’re really saying: your standards inconvenience me. Furthermore, they’re dismissing your experience and maturity entirely. Additionally, they’re begging you to stop asking for their manager.
But here’s what I know: I’ve held customer status longer than that teenager has drawn breath. Similarly, I’ve maintained standards longer than she’s earned minimum wage. Who gave her the authority to judge how I interact with service workers?
As I discussed in my piece about cultural attacks on traditional Americans, this fits a larger pattern. They want to silence women like me. Specifically, women who know what they want. Moreover, women who aren’t afraid to ask for it. And yes, women who might raise their voice slightly when the foam-to-liquid ratio disappoints them.
The Real Victims Here
Nobody talks about how being called a Karen affects us. The shame lingers. The social media screenshots haunt you. My own daughter said, “Mom, please don’t do this here” before I even opened my mouth.
I have feelings. Nevertheless, people dismiss those feelings because I also have a reasonable complaint about the service. Why can’t both things coexist? Why can’t someone experience victimization by a label AND maintain correctness about the toppings?
What I Actually Said (Context Matters)
For the record, I did not “demand” anything. Instead, I firmly requested. There’s a difference. The staff’s inadequate training caused the scene, not me. And that teenager? She already seemed upset before I arrived. Probably.
And yes, I mentioned that I would leave a review. That’s called consumer advocacy.
The Wine Helps
Later that evening, I processed my trauma with a nice Chardonnay. Then another. Then I drafted a Yelp review that I ultimately decided showed too much restraint. They don’t deserve my mercy.
Being called a Karen isn’t just annoying. It silences you. It dismisses you. It reeks of ageism, sexism, and probably several other -isms I haven’t identified yet.
But I won’t let them deter me. I’ll keep having standards. I’ll keep requesting managers. I’ll keep being exactly who I am.
And if that makes me a Karen? Then Karen just means a woman who refuses to accept mediocrity.
You’re welcome.
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