It's not easy living with a Karen, especially when they are out in public. These poor souls were caught in some of the worst adult meltdowns imaginable, and there were no easy solutions available. There's only so much a manager can do with crazy! Content has been edited for clarity.
Watch Out For Incoming Patty
“Ugh, my dad could be an absolute nightmare if you got his order even slightly wrong. It was always the same, whether we were at a fast food place or a fancy sit-down restaurant. He would often yell at the wait staff if they ‘undercooked’ his steak. Apparently it had to be well done, or he would immediately lose his appetite. One time, we went to Burger King when I was younger, and we sat down to eat. My dad took one bite of his burger, spat it out, and immediately started whining about it being undercooked. He got up and cut in front of everyone in line to yell at the cashier. HE demanded to know who the cook was. When the cook came out from the kitchen, he launched his burger and hit the poor guy directly in the face. My dad is now banned for life from that Burger King, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they blacklisted him from other locations. The cops were definitely called in.
Unfortunately, any encounter my dad has with the police never ends well (oh yeah, there have been many instances). He is usually fairly hostile towards the cops. He once managed to even get my mom a seatbelt fine after the cop had already decided on a warning, just by mouthing off from the passenger seat. I am still close with my father, but I never go out to eat with him anywhere though. He is much different now after my brother passed away, he has mellowed out to an extent.”
The Only Way To Make Them Listen
“My mom used to run restaurants. My step father used to be a chef in high end restaurants. He is the kind of guy who expects to be treated better than he is currently being treated, regardless of whatever that treatment is. They are not fun to go out to eat with. My wife and I pride ourselves on being a ‘relief’ table when we go out to eat. Both of us have been servers, and there’s always the counterpoint to the difficult table, which is us. Barring horrible service or bad food, we are super easy customers, tip well, and try to have a good time with our server. Furthermore, we just treat people nicely. So you can imagine our disdain when my parents act like they’re actually royalty at a dinner service. My wife and I went out to dinner with them. They were being particularly tough. My mom was acting like she was Gordon Ramsey analyzing the business, critiquing everything down to the amount of bubbles in her seltzer. She said that, ‘It looks like it’s time to change the CO2.’ My step dad was getting more and more heated over stupid things, like the amount of ice in his drink and how the waitress didn’t top off his water (that he was barely sipping on) fast enough.
It came to a head when my step father ordered a steak medium well. It came back medium well, and for some reason he changed his mind that he wanted it medium rare while it was cooking, and nobody read his mind, so he gave attitude, as did my mom. They jumped really quickly into demanding free stuff. I’m an adult, and this may be the first time they realized this. I interrupted in front of the server and said something like, ‘Really? This is what you’re doing. That’s what you ordered!’
I turned to the server and said, ‘We do not need anything comped.’
I then pulled out my wallet and handed her my card and said, ‘This is for the bill. We’ll happily wrap up with what we have here. I’m very sorry for their behavior, you’re doing great.’
Then I dropped the line that stung them so deep, they still bring it up years later: ‘I was taught to treat people nicely, a lesson that seems to have been forgotten. Thank you.’
They turned red, the server walked away, I looked down and cut my steak, and I didn’t say a word. They were so flabbergasted that the meal was virtually silent, except for me asking my step father how his steak was a few minutes later. I signed the check, gave a big tip, and we walked out and said goodbyes. They’ve been nicer to servers each time that we’ve gone out since.”
The One Way To Make This Tirade More Embarrassing
“We had some issues once in a Taco Bell drive thru that sent my mom into a complete meltdown. The people running the place had actually run out of lettuce. Instead of just telling people they were out and letting it go, they kept being idiotic and telling everyone there would be a small delay. I have never dealt with dumber people. It was a super hot day, the air conditioning was broke, and we were exhausted. All we really wanted was some water, but we’re stuck in the drive thru line waiting and waiting, while they try to figure out how to make lettuce out of thin air. You would think there would be another bag somewhere or something, but maybe that was too complicated for them.
Twenty minutes go by of me and my mom cooking in the car, trapped in the drive-thru, and my mom is just cursing up a storm. She goes on and on about the stupidity of the people involved. I remember a lot of what she said quite well, as I was only about twelve or thirteen at the time. I was learning all sorts of new words and phrases! I definitely took some notes. That’s when we see some Taco Bell teenage idiot employee boy make a break from the building and go sprinting across the parking lot over towards the grocery store across the way. My mom’s cursing rose a few decibels. Forty five minutes or so after we got into this whole thing, the car at the window finally gets handed something. And they don’t leave immediately, they have to talk for a while before they drive off! My mom is a volcano past it’s sell by date, and she is just frothing at the mouth now, but eventually they pull off and leave, and we can pull up to the window.
Now what I’ve left out of the story until now is that my family would participate in local town parades as clowns, handing out candy to the kdis on the side of the road and dancing our way through the parade route. This day was one of those days. We were in full costume. We had on makeup, baggy rainbow pants, rainbow wigs, massively ridiculous shoes, the whole deal. My mom, who for the last hour has been spitting bile and rage, realizes that she has to pull up and face these people in full clown regalia in order to get our stupid tacos. I remember that moment when Mom realized it. The mix of anger, embarrassment, ridiculousness, and eventually the humor of the whole situation, went through her. She started laughing so hard that she was crying. And when the people behind us started honking for us to just GO (they had been waiting too), it just got funnier somehow.
So now mom is not just a crazy angry lady, she’s a Crazy Angry Clown Lady. She’s a crazy clown lady who’s been sweating and now crying too. So she’s not even a crazy clown lady with good makeup anymore, she’s just a wreck of a crazy clown lady. Which makes her laugh even harder. I thought she was going to die. I mean, she couldn’t breathe, and those outfits and the heat weren’t helping anything either. To give Mom credit, she didn’t just squeal out of there flipping everyone the bird. She got herself together, pulled up to the window, looked up at the girl through the car window with her ruined clown make up and big rainbow wig, and handed her the money very calmly. She said thank you and took the bag, and we finally drove off. I hope they remember us. I know I’ll never forget the look on the drive thru girl’s face as we drove up and she started to try to apologize for the delay, but she simply stopped and stared at us. It was a pretty good day overall.”
Salads Make Them Lose Their Minds
“I grew up in a smaller town right on the cusp of a much larger growth. We knew our town had finally made it when we got an Olive Garden. We used to eat there two or three times a month. My mom and I would always split an entree, and my dad would get his own. We knew the rule: if you’re splitting an entree and you get more than one of the family style bowls of salad, then you’ll get charged an extra $4 for the extra person. Which is fair, two entrees come with two unlimited salads. Well one day, my dad decides he wanted more salad. Only he wants the additional salad, but the waitress said if she refills the bowl, that we will be charged the extra $4. Well low and behold, my parents threw the biggest tantrum because only HE wanted the additional salad. The demanded to speak to a manager, and the manager explained the rule (which we knew), but offered to comp the extra salad, just to get my parents to stop yelling. That actually shut them up. When our bill came, the manager comped my dad’s entree and the additional salad fee. That was when my mom got up. She interrupted the manager while he was talking to other guests and threw the check in his face. She demanded an explanation for the check. She was furious that he comped my dad’s meal. He ate the meal, therefore we would like to pay for it. She wouldn’t stop raising her voice until she was allowed to pay for the meal, but not the salad. The manager was confused but obliged. When they brought the change, the manager slipped a few free appetizer coupons. My mom ripped them up and threw them on the ground as she left. Safe to say I didn’t eat out with them for at least a month afterwards, and I still refuse to go to Olive Garden with them.”
Build-A-Bear-Blowup
“Okay, so we were going to a theme park in the capital of the country. I must have been around nineteen, which makes my younger sister sixteen, and the youngest around nine. My dad had been planning this for a year, and we were psyched to go. After you go into this place, you see a huge lake, and on each side there are several shops. A restaurant there, a souvenir shop there, and there is also a Build-A-Bear shop. This shop is NOT a part of the park itself, but it does have an entrance from the park. Anyway, my dad didn’t have custody of my sister at the time, and he only saw her very sporadically. This was by his own choice, since his anxiety meant he couldn’t care for her properly. She lived with a foster family. This was one of maybe three times a year he got to actually take her somewhere, so this trip was a BIG deal. He told her she could have ONE thing from the park, and whatever she wanted, he would pay for it. And, being a nine year old girl, she said she wanted a Build-A-Bear.
My dad was unfamiliar with the concept of Build-A-Bear, so he didn’t know that the price of the bear isn’t the total price. On top of it comes the clothes and the shoes. So the shop person takes my sister through the whole thing. You know, stuffing, putting the heart in, and then rings up the total. My dad totally lost it. He was red in the head, screaming at this poor girl in the shop, all because the price was slightly higher than he expected. And I felt SO embarrassed. First, this girl didn’t make the prices. Second, this was THE trip of the year, it was all four of us for the first time in forever. And third, you shouldn’t yell at people like that! I get that he was angry, since he didn’t know the process and felt cheated. And also, he felt backed into a corner, since he had promised my sister that she could have anything. But you don’t do that. Ever. Luckily, the rest of the trip went by without a hitch, and my youngest sister doesn’t remember this happening. She has two Build-A-Bears now, and she named each of them after one of her sisters.”
The Wrath Of Karen
“My mother-in-law is the biggest Karen of them all. Going out to eat with her is always such a nightmare. Her orders always need fourteen special requests, but she is never kind about it. She acts defensive from the get go, as if the wait staff already messed up the order before they know what it is. Her favorite is to request salad with no dressing whatsoever. There can be nothing on the side. She just wants a completely dry salad, and she will send it back if it she wants to.
The one experience I will never forget though was dinner at Joe’s Crab Shack. In case you’ve never been, it’s one of those places that every so often plays a song, which the entire staff has to drop everything and dance to. It’s quick, everyone gets a little kick out of it, it’s part of the fun. Now my mother-in-law Karen knew this, it’s not like she’d never been here. But apparently she was not willing to wait two extra minutes for her dry salad, so she starts going off as soon as the dancing starts. She gets a manager, who clearly knows Karen well. The manager offers a quick apology (for doing their job), a discount, and her dry salad. But Karen is not completely satisfied. She tells us that even though dinner for our party of eight is on her, she’s not tipping the waitress one penny. She proceeds to complain loudly for the rest of the meal and antagonizes our waitress over the pettiest things.
I worked too many years in customer service, so I really try to be a decent human being. I made sure to get my bill separate, so I could tip for the entire table. I wrote a quick note on the receipt, something along the lines of, ‘Way to stay positive even when the customer is awful.’ I was a little afraid of the wrath of Karen, it was one of my first interactions with her too, but when the waitress came and hugged me, Karen and I locked eyes. She knew. I didn’t care. Don’t be so awful Karen.”
The Longest Hour Of His Life
“My dad just loved to argue, and he loved a good deal. We were shopping in a department store, and I found a pair of pants I was mildly interested in. The pants were tagged at (let’s say) $40, and the sign on the rack was ‘All pants $25’. I was mildly interested, so I asked the sales clerk if they had them in my size. The clerk said, ‘Those aren’t supposed to be on that rack.’
My dad lost his mind and insisted on getting the pants for $25. He started asking for a courtesy discount on top of that. He escalated things to the floor manager and then to the store manager. Meanwhile, I didn’t even want the pants. They were okay pants I guess, nothing awesome. I just didn’t care very much about them. I was more than happy to move on. I told my dad I didn’t want the pants, but by then he didn’t care about what I wanted. He wanted the pants at the better price. Eventually, after like an hour of arguing, the store manager said, ‘We’re not giving you the pants at that price. Take them or leave them at $40.’
So we left them, which suited me just fine, because I didn’t want the pants in the first place.”
Nothing Will Stop This Mom
“The local grocery store had this sign up that said if an item rang up higher than an advertised price, then it was free. This was back in the 80s, and stores did stupid stuff like this that I never see in stores today. My mom was buying a box of Little Debbie cakes, and they rang up for $2.85 instead of the advertised $2.50. So now Mom wants her free cakes. The cashier doesn’t know what to do, so she summons a manager. The manager tells her to ring up the sale otherwise, and he’ll be right back. The manager came right back and cheerfully handed my mother 35 cents, saying, ‘There you go!’
My mother points out the sign behind him, and he says, ‘Oh, the last manager put that up, it doesn’t make any sense. I’m the new manager, and I just haven’t had the sign removed yet.’
It was a printed plastic sign that was nailed into the wall, and my mom insisted that they honor that sign. But the manager wasn’t into it. So far, I was on my mom’s side here. Until she made her next move. Mom gathers her things, decides against taking the Little Debbies on principle, and we get in the car. Mom wordlessly drives downtown to the main store of this 3-5 store chain, knowing the office is next door. We walk into this perfectly 80s wood paneled office, where my mother asks the secretary to speak to the owner of the store. She is permitted to do so, since this is a family owned business, and their ‘corporate office’ is smaller than the row of cubicles my staff occupy at work.
Right here was when my mother unleashes a tirade about how she has lost faith in the owner’s brand and how his word is meaningless, since they will not honor that one sign. This guy stands up, profusely apologizes, validates her anger, and then pulls out his wallet and hands her a $5 bill. He also promises that he will speak to that new manager, and the sign will either be honored or removed. We get home and find that the ice cream we bought melted in the trunk because this was in the middle of summer, and it ruined the cereal and the bread.”
How Not To Ever Handle Conflict
“One time, my Grandad got a sausage roll at a football match during half time. When he got back to his seat, he found it was overdone, as the pastry was quite burned. The man was irate. He didn’t take it back straight away, as the second half was about to start, but he spent much of the second half angrily lamenting his savory snack letdown. So he takes it home, calls the customer service number on the back, and keeps the remainder of the sausage roll in the freezer for the next couple of weeks! Skip ahead to the next match day, and my Grandad tells me we’re heading out early so he can have his sausage roll replaced. The customer service line told him to go to Kiosk 3 at the front of the ground, next to the ticket office. When we arrive, the shutters are down at the food place. The old man looks around growling and turning red in the face, stomping right over to window number 3 of the ticket office and slamming his frozen burned sausage roll down like a flaky gauntlet.
At this point, I’m trying to convince him the ticket office was a completely different department to the catering concession, but my Grandad was having none of it. The lady working the ticket window continually attempted to convince him the same, that they sell match tickets not hot snacks, but this just got him angrier. Another worker comes up behind the glass, so now there’s just two people to rage at. Then a head steward comes to attempt to diffuse the situation, and my Grandad begins to wave the burnt sausage roll in this man’s face, I was actually surprised he didn’t whack him with it. At this point, I’m mortified by the whole affair, wishing I’d have stayed back at the house until nearer kick off.
Eventually, after an hour or so, the shutters come up on the food concession. The guy at the counter calmly resolves the situation, dispatching a freshly baked sausage roll with the steady hands of a surgeon. My Grandad is completely satisfied with the result of his hour of insolent rage. As we’re walking away, he turns to me and says, ‘That’s how you get these things sorted.'”
“They Don’t Like The Way We Look!”
“This is my favorite example of my mom being an absolute whacko. We are from New York, and I was visiting her in Los Angeles, where she was vacationing for a few days. There is a restaurant we had been to before and really wanted to visit again. I guess you could say it’s a ‘hot spot’. This is lunch time, and we didn’t think to take any reservations. My mom asks for a table, and they say, ‘We’re so sorry, but if you don’t have a reservation, we unfortunately do not have any tables for you. If you’d like, you can leave your phone number, and we can call you if we have any cancellations.’
My mom starts huffing and puffing, pointing at all the tables, which are of course reserved for 12:00 and 12:30 but are currently empty. She’s making a whole scene and just storms out of the restaurant. I try to explain to her the way restaurants work, that there are empty tables because other people are going to be coming in later with reservations. She is storming down the block just ranting, ‘NO! You don’t get it! I’ve worked in restaurants my whole life. This is what they do. It’s LA. It’s like a nightclub. They don’t like the way we look. This is ridiculous!’
While she’s ranting, the hostess comes running down the block. They had a cancellation and they could seat us immediately. I was so humiliated that I didn’t even want to eat there anymore. Long story short, I never take my mom to any restaurant I like ever.
The Heartbreaking Method To The Madness
“My grandmother wasn’t only a ‘let me talk to your manager’ type. She was very prejudiced, and her advancing dementia completely turned off her filter. I’ve blocked out all the context behind it, other than I took her to buy yarn and something went wrong. I think maybe they shorted her a couple bucks or wouldn’t honor a coupon or something. Whatever it was ended in a ‘let me talk to your manager’, followed by a tirade to the manager about how they shouldn’t be hiring certain people. I just remember having to talk over her and say, ‘Oh my god, you can’t talk to her like that. Nothing you just said is okay,’ followed by me trying to push her wheelchair out of the store as fast as possible. She was digging her feet into the ground, trying to get me to stop so she could go back to trying to ruin someone’s day. I was wondering if I would go to jail for elder abuse if her ankles snapped in the process, because nothing was going to stop me getting her out of that store. I got her into the car and then went back in and apologized until I was blue in the face. I wish I could say it was an isolated incident, but it definitely wasn’t. If by any cosmic chance any sales clerks or phone reps that had to deal with my grandmother read this, I am so so incredibly sorry. I apologize on behalf of my whole family, and I’d give you a hug if I could. As an interesting side effect of caring for her, I have a tendency to wander off and pretend to look at things when we get to the register if I’m with someone and I’m not the one paying. I think she gave me an honest to goodness phobia.
My grandmother passed away two years ago, and let me tell you, it was a load off me and my mother. On top of the dementia, I genuinely would be shocked if she didn’t have undiagnosed narcissistic personality disorder. Every checkmark on the symptoms list fits her perfectly. I have happy memories of her from my childhood, but all of that was so tempered by how she ended up later in life. I was slowly realizing that she had always been awful to my mother, and I just hadn’t seen it.”