When the entitled, customer service related “Karen” memes started, I immediately recognized “her,” and thought it was funny. Most of my working life has been within customer service and restaurant work. Actually, all of it because so much of my time as an Army medic was in an aid station which mirrored customer service. I had to treat all ranks with professionalism and courtesy even if they treated me poorly because they were sick, in pain, or thought they were better than me. So yeah, the “take me to your manager,” Karen was something I could laugh at and feel a solidarity with my fellow customer service representatives online.
While age, gender, and race of my firsthand experience with “Karens” has admittedly been mostly the appearing well-off, upper Generation X-through-Boomer, white female, that’s been nowhere near universal. Representatives of all walks of life would come into my restaurant(s) and behave as though it was a pre-meditated decision to harass the server until a perceived incompetence or insult happened and free food was then warranted. And of course, spew the many variations of, “I’m in charge as the customer.”
While bitching about the Customer Service Karen with your coworkers is fun, and really the only way to cope with them immediately after the moment, I could also pity her. If a refused $3 coupon was enough to ruin her day, her life was probably not all the sunshine and roses her perfectly painted nails and name brand tags implied. Needing to power trip on a working-class employee only proves how powerless their life is elsewhere. I’m sorry this $3 coupon was the straw that broke the camel’s back today, Karen, but I don’t get paid enough to be your therapeutic punching bag and being mean to me won’t fix what’s wrong in your life.
So the racist “Karen” videos of late aren’t funny – they’re horrible and sad – and I truly feel they need a new title. Customer Service Karen’s racist cousin Susan, Barbra, or some other generational stereotype name… or how about Amy Cooper – yanno, let’s blast their real names if they’re known. Giving them a title waters down the reality of their nature into a caricature and lets them fade away anonymously, identify as the victim of a mean nickname, and make no lasting changes.
Plus, I’ve been known to pull the Karen card when I KNOW I’m not being treated right by a customer service representative (It doesn’t happen often, I’m typically the one that sympathizes with and defends the busy server, the “OMG I’m new, what do I do now” employee, and the overworked cashier). When I do harness a Karen moment, I’ll own it, and I don’t like the idea of sharing that title with the likes of Amy Cooper and Patricia McCloskey.
Random SAHM Thoughts 