My Very Seventh Newsletter

I’ve always been ambivalent about my name. It screams black and white TV generation but without the high school cred of say, a Jennifer or even a Kathy.  Now, Karen has become shorthand for the middle-aged white woman who throws a hissy fit every time things don’t go her way.  Once this trope started finding its way into everyone’s vernacular, I took a hard look at my own self-presentation.  And I found myself changing my behavior. I’m now less likely to carp when someone bumps into me on the street, or the waiter forgets my order, or the grocery checkout line remains at a thirty-minute standstill.  I take a much longer time to scream “F### You!” at the customer service robots who refuse to acknowledge my request for a human operator.

But now the Karen label has ballooned to describe any middle-aged white woman who has a problem with anything.  Karen is an entitled whiner. When CVS pharmacy made me wait two and half hours for my flu shot despite my appointment, I said nothing. When American Airlines canceled my flight with no notice, I said nothing. We had an apartment emergency a few weeks ago and I kept perfect, silent equanimity as I delegated communicating with the building’s manager to my husband, despite the fact that in the 16 years we have lived here the management company has never responded to a single one of my emails—only to my husband’s. I’ve even stopped yelling at the automated recordings when I need customer service in fear that the robot will judge me.  

 All this has left me stressed, depressed and hungry. I’ve developed all this self-restraint so not a single unhelpful stranger will mutter “Karen,” as they walk past me.  I’ve worked on it, pretty much mastered it, and NOW IT’S KILLING ME. 

When I tell my middle-aged white female pals about this, they say, it’s not just you. We all have to be careful. Some of my black women friends have recently said the same. The common denominator here is women and  if we don’t want to be branded a pain, we have to keep our mouths shut.  But right now, I’ll settle for being a pain. Maybe I won’t ask to speak to the manager but figure out how to get a different manager. 

Distractions:

Snacks

If you’re a chocolate snob, you need to skip this section. I love a Ritter. You know, the big and small chocolate squares that sit on the counter in between the cash register and the Tip Jar. My favorite flavors (it’s hard to choose) are Dark Chocolate Marzipan and Cornflake, which sounds so much better in its original German, Knusperflake. Let me know which you prefer.

TV

I’m not excited by the new stuff so I’m drowning myself in the entire Frasier series. Each episode is a perfect piece of theater: masterful acting and brilliant writing.

Movies

I really enjoyed Anna Kendrick’s Woman of the Hour, a movie about the serial killer who appeared on The Dating Game. It’s the perfect melange of of feminism and suspense.

Books

I love reading about the history of television.  If you do too, I recommend both of Bill Carter’s books about late night television.  I would love to hear your thoughts on Jay Leno. 

Something I Learned:

There is a product on the market, sold primarily for an upset stomach, that will also eliminate fart and poop smells.  This could be a great gift for that special someone. 

Don’t forget to consult with our advice column that comes out this Tuesday.  You can look at our most recent one here. They are evergreen.  

Please check out my website for comedy show dates, archived newsletters, videos and more.   Extra credit if you refer a pal.