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I feel bad for women named Karen (apologies to a dearly beloved Aunt), because it’s become synonymous with the kind of women in their 40s that scream for you to “get the manager.”
It’s a very real phenomenon though (not necessarily the part where the woman is named Karen), but perhaps we’ve found the true nemesis for Karens everywhere:
A 16-year-old desk clerk who just wanted their coffee.
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