I’m a semi-pro photographer. That is, I sometimes get paid for it, but not usually. As such, I’m aware of the code of ethics for photographing people. Also, I like to think I’m a decent human being. The person I just encountered, not so much. For those people who find it hard to believe how incredibly badly some people act in retail environments, this person flipped out at me on a city street. I’ve got a widness.

I’m working on a project for which I needed a picture of some Spanish moss. It doesn’t even have to be a great picture — it’s going to be about 2″ square in the final product — so a quick snap with my smartphone would be sufficient. There was a suitable clump of the stuff along a major road in my town, so we parked in a nearby parking lot and went to get a picture of it. In retrospect, I’m glad we were parked behind a building, where this person could not see the car.

The Spanish moss was growing one of a row of decorative trees along the road. After I got my pictures, I decided to walk up a few trees to where there was some hanging lower, where I might get a picture of how it attaches to the branch in case I needed it. That’s when a wild Karen appeared.

She was driving a red Jeep. That was the first thing I noticed, as this bright red vehicle pulled up on the sidewalk and started coming my way. I dove behind a sturdy tree; people around this area routinely crash into trees, signs, fences, brick walls, and the sides of buildings. The vehicle stopped, though, and a woman hopped out. She seemed fairly ordinary — late 50s, maybe, kind of short and plump, casually dressed, though with weirdly purple-and-gray streaked hair that looked like the unfortunate results of a home dye job gone bad. And no mask. She didn’t look much unlike me, actually, except for the hair and the mask. We continued walking that way, and she starts calling out to us:

“During the pandemic, I’m taking pictures of photographers. I saw you back there taking a picture of something in the tree. Could you go do that again?”

Well, I wasn’t about to pose for some random stranger to begin with — I don’t really want to be on someone’s Facebook page — and my knee was killing me, so I definitely didn’t want to go back half a block to the clump of Spanish moss and, well, point my phone at it. (what an exciting picture!)

“Sorry, I’d prefer not to.” That seems like a reasonable reply, no? Expecting a normal interaction with this person, I was very polite, almost apologetic. You’d expect it would end there, with some comment like “Thanks anyway”, a wave, and her driving off. That’s what a professional would do. Or a semi-pro. Or a decent human being.

Not Karen.

She freaked out. As in totally flipped her … stuff. She started screaming. (literally screaming!) Among the things she repeatedly screamed was that I should be ashamed of myself. That as a photographer myself, I should pose for her pictures. She went on and on and on … I’m surprised she didn’t give herself a coronary. She kept coming back to how I should be ashamed of myself for not posing for her.

I decided I just didn’t need to deal with this nutcase, and headed back the way we’d come. She was still screaming behind me. She finally got back in her vehicle and, as she drove past us, repeatedly blew her horn.

I was on my way to Walmart to pick up some frozen veggies; I checked the parking lot for red Jeeps as I went in. This isn’t a very large town — I have no doubt I’ll see her again. Hopefully before she sees me.

Because holy mooing cow … she was without question the most entitled human being I have ever come across. Those who do not obey her whims should be ashamed of themselves?

I immigrated to Canada several years ago from the UK. In the past, I’ve lived in a couple of different places abroad so my British accent has changed a little over time. However, for some reason, I keep having people think I’m Irish. While my accent is a little more Canadian, I definitely do not sound anywhere near Irish and I’ve had to repeatedly advise people I’m not. At my job, there is one co-worker who seems to repeatedly forget I’m English and a couple of times I’ve had to remind of him of this. One day, I arrive at work and he approaches me.

Co-worker: You’re Irish, right?

Me: No, I’m not

Internally I’m groaning because I’ve been through this with him before!

Co-worker: But you sound Irish

Me: I’m from the South West of the UK, believe me, I’m definitely not Irish.

Co-worker: But you must have some kind of Irish heritage though, right?

Me: No, my family is mainly Scottish, some Welsh and English

Co-worker: You must at least have an Irish father, I mean come on!

Me: I don’t know what to tell you, we’ve been over this before. As far as I I know I don’t have any Irish relations.

Co-worker: But you sound Irish…

Me: I’ll see you later (co-worker)

With that I walked away, sadly this was not the last time I had this interaction with him. Thankfully, he eventually seemed to forget and dropped the issue. I’m really not sure why he was so hardcore about my imaginary Irish heritage?

When my now husband and I were dating, my Mom and stepdad took us to dinner at a local restaurant. The waitress came to take our order and my husband ordered the chicken breast meal.

Waitress: Would you prefer one breast or two?

Husband: Um….one.

After the waitress left, we all fell apart in hysterical fits of laughter.

My husband and I walk into a restaurant that does both sit-down and takeout service. The host is on the phone as we walk in. We only hear one side of the conversation, each of these phrases followed by a long pause:

Host: You can get a pepperoni pizza to pick up.
You’ll need to pay by card when you order.
Yes, we have pepperoni pizza.
No, we don’t deliver.
You can pick it up here.
You pay when you order.
Come around to the back door for pickup.
No, we don’t deliver.
We’re located at (address).
That’s in (town).
Yes, you can order a pepperoni pizza. Would you like to order now?
(Street) comes off the rotary. Take it going west.
West is toward (next town).
You come to the back door for pickup.
No, we don’t deliver.
We’re in (town).
Yes, we have pizza for takeout.

By this point he’s looking at us apologetically, but we’re laughing so hard we just signal that it’s fine.

No, not in (next town), just on the road going that direction.
It’s (road).
About a half mile from the rotary.
The rotary where (mall) is located.
In (town).
Would you like to order a pizza?
No, we don’t deliver, you need to pick up.
We’re at (address).
You need to pay by card when you order.
You can pick it up here.
Take (road) from the rotary and we’re about half a mile down on the left.
No, in (town).
Yes, we make pepperoni pizza.
Would you like to think about it and call back?

He hung up the phone and I asked “High, or just stupid?”

(One morning, I wake up to a long email strand from a group of parents in the northeast US. They were discussing protesting the school mask ordinance associated with a certain pandemic. I am extremely confused, as I don’t have kids, and I live on the West Coast. I send them an email…)

Me: Please take me off this email chain. I’m not the [Name] you’re looking for.

(I continue getting emails. I reply again with a meme of a certain starfish cartoon character yelling “Who are you people?!” I get a reply a couple minutes later…)

Parent: Sorry [My Name], I was given your name at the school board meeting as someone to include. Clearly I was mistaken!

Me: I’m not a parent nor do I even live in your geographic area. The email address you were given was incorrect.

(I’m now getting daily job alerts and order confirmation emails for this person. If the person in question is reading this…learn your email address, or I’m going to drop my pro-mask opinions into the next school board email I receive.)