I’ve recently posted about a certain type of woman. The name I gave this woman is Karen. The name is a catchall for the women who think they are better than the average person and treat those people as such, for absolutely no reason. Karen has an average job, an average car, ill-behaved children, a let-me-speak-to-your-manager haircut, can’t get through the day without Starbucks before work and at lunch, and goes to church every Sunday just to show everyone there that she showed up. Karen is no better than anyone else, but likes to pretend she is even though she is the same as your average human being. This is a story about an evolved form of Karen: Sharon.
Sharon is a name we are going to give to the Karens of the world who, instead of treating people like garbage for no reason, do so because they actually are of a higher stature than the rest of us. Sharon has the let-me-speak-to-your-manager-so-I-can-get-you-fired haircut, drives a luxury SUV that is way too big for her, has very spoiled children who get everything they want, doesn’t have a real job but makes turquoise jewelry to sell at local markets, gives back to the community by writing a check, knows all the local politicians but doesn’t actually know anything about politics, and wouldn’t be caught dead in a Starbucks even if her cappuccino machine at home was broken.
The easiest way to spot a Sharon is by her bracelets. All of them are shiny, all of them are too big, none of them actually go together, and they are the loudest bracelets on the face of the planet.
I had the misfortune of meeting a Sharon around 4 o’clock this morning. I was just wrapping up a site and was inside the store when Sharon walked in.
Gas stations that are open 24/7 are not usually the kind of please you want to be. Sharon is the last person who wants to be there.
Sharon had been driving her Audi Q7 for the last few hours on her way to a Mary Kay sales convention and needed to use the restroom. The clerk directed her to the restroom in the corner of the store. About 2 seconds after the restroom door closed it opened right back up again and Sharon stormed to the counter.
How could that clerk expect her to use such a terrible facility?! Not only is it unisex, but it was filthy. Clearly some man has sprayed his DNA all over the place and she would be calling the district manager to let him know how she was being treated.
I was the last person in that restroom, it was spotless before and after I used it. Very clean, smelled good, and was fairly spacious. So I don’t know what the hell Sharon was talking about, and seeing as how the clerk was the one who cleaned it, he was as perplexed as I.
Not only did Sharon display her disgust at such treatment, but she exclaimed that she will never visit one of these gas stations again. As she walked out the door she could be heard muttering that she should have just flown to her conference.
Karens are awful people to deal with. Sharons are worse. I have dealt with many Karens and Sharons in my day. This particular Sharon was on the tame side. I’m sure it won’t be long before I get to experience another. Can’t wait.
Stay classy, and I’ll see you at the next stop.