Sorry Karen, the World Doesn’t Owe You a Personal Assistant

An Open Letter to the Chronically Churlish & Professionally Offended

Well, well, well. If it isn’t you again. Yes, YOU—the one currently rehearsing your Oscar-worthy performance of outrage because the avocado in your overpriced toast dared to be slightly less photogenic than the Instagram post that lured you here. Do you feel that? That subtle tension in the air? That’s not the universe conspiring against you, sweetheart. That’s called reality—and it’s time you checked into it.

Let’s get one thing straight, Karen—and yes, we’re using the name, because let’s be honest, you’ve EARNED it—the world is not your personal assistant. That beleaguered barista? Not your emotional support human. The retail associate? Not your Google-search lackey. The customer service agent? Absolutely not your verbal punching bag because your artisanal, gluten-free, soul-aligned expectations weren’t met.

You sweep through stores and cafés like a hurricane of entitlement, leaving baffled staff and secondhand embarrassment in your wake. You don’t just ask for the manager—you summon them, as though you’re some disgruntled feudal lord and they’re a serf who misplaced your mead. You weaponize the phrase “the customer is always right” like it’s a holy mantra, all while behaving like a tyrant on a bargain-bin throne.

Let’s talk about your “loyalty,” shall we? You bought one coffee here three years ago and now you treat the loyalty program like it’s a blank cheque for free refills of everything—including our dignity. You demand discounts, freebies, upgrades, and compensation for problems that exist purely in the theatre of your mind. Did the napkin dispenser look at you funny? DEMAND A REFUND. Was the Wi-Fi slightly less zippy than you’d prefer? WRITE A NOVEL-LENGTH REVIEW. You didn’t get a warm enough greeting? CALL HEAD OFFICE AND REQUEST A NATIONAL APOLOGY.

Here’s the headline your sense of entitlement has been avoiding: NOBODY CARES. We don’t care that it’s your birthday month. We don’t care that your yoga instructor said you deserve abundance. We certainly don’t care that you’re “never shopping here again”—promise? Because frankly, losing you as a customer sounds like the best employee bonus we’ve ever gotten.

The next time you feel the urge to snap your fingers at a server or condescend to a sales assistant, remember this: the only person who believes you’re a VIP is you. The rest of us? We’re just counting the seconds until you leave so we can finally—finally—roll our eyes in peace.

Now kindly step aside. There are actual adults waiting in line.