By Josh Gardner, who cannot remember 9/11
ONLY middle-aged women with mum haircuts complain. For a Millennial like myself the world is a trouble-free paradise I can easily skate through without problems. Or so I thought until my McPlant Burger only came with small fries instead of medium and I was forced to become everything I hate.
Unlike entitled Boomers, complaining doesn’t come naturally to my generation. Besides posting passive-aggressive statuses on social media every 30 seconds and whining about house prices and nepo babies, we’re a very contented bunch.
So imagine my horror when I found myself with a legitimate grievance. I should have had at least 12 more thin chips than I paid for, and my parents weren’t around to take care of it for me. Was I really about to enter my Karen era? I was shook.
I did the only logical thing and tagged McDonald’s in a disgruntled tweet. Maybe it would go viral and I’d get free chips for life for being so chill about their mistake? But as the minutes dragged by and the likes failed to roll in, I started to panic.
I desperately tried to think what my mum and dad would do in this situation. Did they even have McDonald’s back in their day? Or fries? Money even? It was impossible to tell. So instead I risked cancellation and politely informed the cashier there was a mistake.
They smiled and brightly said they’d sort it out for me. Outrageous! Where was the grovelling apology video posted to YouTube? Why was nobody crowdfunding to buy me a gender-neutral emotional support frog? There was only one thing for it.
The words stuck in my throat but they needed to be said. With a loud cough I demanded to speak to the manager. The place went hashtag silent. It was an L move but I had to endure the cringe-to-based ratio.
Within seconds the new fries were thrust into my hands and I was shunted aside for the next customer. I retreated to the safe space of a nearby table and unpacked what had just happened. Clearly I was the innocent in all this and was forced to become a monster by the pressures of adulting.
So there you go, that’s my trauma origin story. Being a Karen is inevitable and happens to us all. I’m thinking of making a weekly podcast about my ordeal to help other Millennials cope. Gotta get that sweet NordVPN sponsorship money somehow.