Meet My Mother, Karen

(I’m going to a train station with my mother to sort out an issue of me losing 50 dollars in one of their machines. Unfortunately, we’ve come in on a day they’re closed, so my mother decides to talk to a man at a nearby information desk.)

Company Representative: “Hi, can I help you?”

Mom: *before I can say anything* “I sure hope so! My daughter lost fifty dollars in one of your machines!”

Company Representative: “Unfortunately, I am not affiliated with [Transit Company]. All I really know is [gives some basic information on which lines go where]. If you want their number to call, it’s—”

(I am going to say that I have their number but would rather know the times the station is open, but once again, Mom butts in.)

Mom: “She’s been calling you people all week! This is an outrage.”

Company Representative: “Well, you might not have the right number; you can find it on their website.” *starts pulling it up for us*

Mom: “Yeah, you’d better tell us the f****** number, Mr. Expert!”

Me: *mortified* “MOM!”

Company Representative: “Ma’am, please calm down or I’ll call security.”

Me: *tries to apologize, but Mom cuts in again*

Mom: “FINE! Call security! Go ahead!”

(I went to wait in the car out of embarrassment. Later on, she blamed me for the situation and called me “A Stepford Wife” for not standing up to the man like she was. If you’re reading this, rep guy, I do apologize for that. She overreacted big time.)