Let’s retire Karen.

Karen is a term that’s been around since the 2010s that’s defined as “a pejorative slang term for an obnoxious, angry, entitled, and often racist middle-aged white woman who uses her privilege to get her way or police other people’s behaviors.” 

Which, like… is kind of a broad range, don’t you think? “Karen: She’s an annoying person you might meet in your customer service job, she has a distinctive haircut… and she’s an IRREDEEMABLE RACIST.”

I’m not sure what’s the point of euphemistically calling a person a racist. Wouldn’t direct honesty be a more productive way to address the incredibly important issue of racism? But I’m not here to talk about that. I want to talk about “Can I speak to your manager” Karen. 

I’ve spent a total of four years working as a waitress, plus various other customer service jobs. My two worst waitressing horror stories involved customers who were LGBTQ and BIPOC. (I’ll share the abridged versions, not as evidence that these are groups that deserve prejudice, but just because who doesn’t love a good waitressing horror story? 

#1: A 10-top walks in at 7 on a Friday night. After the team put together their table, poured 10 glasses of water, put in 10 orders, and the orders were cooking… the 10-top made a scene and left. On their way out, they upended a dish of candied fennel right in the entranceway. We had to drop everything in the middle of rush to VACCUUM. 

#2: A couple tried to scam us for free food and spoke so harshly to me that I teared up. The people sitting at the table next to them felt so bad they tipped me $20.)

By the logic behind the Karen phenomenon, I should be on my guard when a LGBTQ/BIPOC table comes into my restaurant… but I never would. Not because I’m blamelessly without prejudice (is anyone?), but because that’s bad waitressing. People can read your attitude, and they aren’t going to tip well if they think you’re judging them. 

Besides, there are so much more deserving prejudices. Like toddlers — if they’re not shrieking, they’re playing a game at TOP VOLUME on their iPad. After they leave, you get to clean up after Hurricane Cheerios for a totally average tip (and hey, no judgment — diapers are expensive). And little old ladies, oh my dear god… I once had this table of four LOLs who I swear to you were messing with me. Every time I returned to their table, another one would pipe up and ask for something else: a cup of ice, two lemons, napkins, an iced tea spoon, more napkins, a mug of hot water, yet more napkins. I imagined them snickering as I hustled away, trying to think of more inane requests. “What about… a side of Russian dressing.” “A to-go box — ‘in case my eyes are bigger than my stomach’!” “Screw it, I’m asking for more napkins.”

… ahh, but I feel bad telling that story, because at the end of the meal, they gave me $40 and said, “You earned it.”

The thing about Karens is that sometimes they’re also waitresses… and good ones at that. I’m a Karen, and I got it from my mother and grandmother before me. My grandmother worked customer service for a toy store after her husband died. That’s where she learned this valuable lesson: The manager gets paid more, so they get to deal with the annoying customers. When she retired on a fixed income, she used this knowledge to make sure that when she spent her money, she got what she paid for. 

My mom was a stay-at-home mom (a job fundamental to all mammals and most birds except brood parasites and megapodes, and one that we in America seem hell-bent on replacing with glowing screens) with a 15-year-old B.A. in sociology when she and my dad divorced. Good thing there’s always waitressing! That magical job where, if you’re good, you develop a fan base of regulars who keep on coming back just to see you and give you money. My mom was so good at it that she spun it into a successful career in sales. Two examples of Karens who know how to work the system… because they worked their way up through it. It was the only card they had to play. It was that or let their families suffer. 

What pains in the asses, am I right??

Vilifying the middle-aged woman who stands up for herself and demands that her money go to what she’s paying for isn’t Standing Up to the System — it’s blaming a person for not letting herself get ripped off. Not that blaming women for systemic problems is anything new. In Delaware and Minnesota, punishment is harsher for prostitutes than it is for johns. There are 27 states that have different laws for sexual assault victims who intentionally became intoxicated. And let’s not forget abortion laws that saddle the woman with the burden of a pregnancy she did not cause by herself. This is a post-Roe world, ladies, and our bodies are no longer our own; they’re sites of governmental regulation. Like roads and public parks. 

There are no laws that regulate men’s reproductive freedom, and there’s no male equivalent of Karen. 

Corporate America must love the Karen trope. Say you’ve got some person working at Panera Bread. They’re powerless in the Panera heirarchy, they’re apathetic about their job, and the only power they do have is over the customers. Now say you’ve got a Karen complaining about her sandwich. If she stays quiet, she pays $13 for a meal she didn’t enjoy and Panera wins her money. If she’s brave enough to ask for a manager and try to get what she paid for, the worker drags her on Reddit or social media for being an entitled bitch. (And don’t forget, probably racist too.) Tale as old as time: Keep the working class squabbling amongst each other and we won’t notice who’s really keeping us down. 

Well, any astute waitress knows you can’t judge people by their appearance. Even if they’re middle-aged white ladies with angled bobs. I’d like to think we can get to a place where prejudice has no place in customer service — whether you’re the customer or the server.