So there is an ongoing social media meme joke about middle-aged women demanding to see the manager, about various complaints which they have in stores, or in restaurants, or in government offices, or in a myriad of other venues. These women have all been given the generic name of “Karen.” I admittedly have laughed at said memes. We all have come across many “Karens” in our lifetime, and it is not at all fun, being at the other end of a Karen’s righteous, ravenous rage. The idea behind the Karen meme seems to be, that all of the disgruntled rage, which Karen has stored up, throughout her lifetime of putting up with various indignities with a plastered smile on her face, comes spewing out of her “completely-over-it-all”, middle-aged self, at the slightest offense. “Karen” has found her power (basically no longer giving a sh$t what anyone thinks). And everyone seems to think that this phenomenon is a big joke.
I had a very annoying customer service experience yesterday. Of course I did. We all know that “annoying” and “customer service”, go together like “salt and pepper”, or “peanut butter and jelly.” I honestly don’t consider myself to be a typical “Karen.” I don’t think that complaining has a lot of upsides, so it usually takes something pretty outrageous to bring my relatively long fuse to an explosion point. But yesterday was a Monday – a cold, windy Monday after a bad night of sleep, and my inner Karen was seeing red, and seething. I think what really brought my vicious Karen side out of the closet, was the seeming assumption, by the various “customer service (ha)” personnel, that by the very fact that I was a middle-aged woman with a complaint, (and an extremely legitimate complaint, I might add), I was already to be dismissed as a hormonal, out-of-control, cartoonish, crazed Karen-meme-in-real-life. It’s as if the “customer service” personnel immediately shut down and said, “Oh, we’ve got another “Karen” on board. Don’t give her anything, keep smirking, and let’s try to get another hilarious “Karen meme” out of this experience.”
At the end of the exhausting, time consuming, blood pressure raising experience, my situation got satisfactorily resolved in a very strange, roundabout, “things that make you go huh?” manner, but that’s for another blog. However, I have decided to have more compassion for the future “Karens” whom I may come across in my daily life. Often, the traits that we don’t particularly like in other people, are just some of our own traits, that we have unconsciously “disowned” in ourselves.
Are you passing on love, or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.