Black cat what murderous Halloween shirt

I was 14. The summer before I started high school. We were at a youth conference called Steubenville in Orlando for Catholic teens. Given this, I assumed that everyone there at the conference would be kind and wholesome. I was wrong. These kinds of conferences usually are whole day ordeals which means coffee is essential. I was never a big fan of Starbucks, but that was all they had. Everyone else, however, NEEDED it. So the lines at the hotel for the Starbucks were extremely long. A friend of mine and I went down to the line and saw my sister and her then boyfriend already up ahead. So we went to join them to chat. Not gonna lie, we also kinda wanted to skip a big chunk of the line, but that, at least for me, was not a big priority. There was a lady with two kids, one in a stroller, who was behind us and pissed. She said.


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Black cat what murderous Halloween shirt

All in all that in itself wasn’t too bad. It was what happened after that solidified her Karen-status. My friend was waiting in line another day at the same Starbucks and the SAME lady comes out and tries to cut with people she knew. My friend cleared her throat and this lady asked if she could just cut the line and join her friends, ya know, the same thing she got so mad at us for doing. Luckily, my friend is far more assertive than I would’ve been and told the lady to go to the back of the line. It’s not exactly an “I’d like to talk to the manager” kind of Karen, but there’s no doubt in my mind that same hypocritical entitlement would not go into play if her order was messed up. But who knows, maybe I’m judging too harshly on a 20 second conversation.

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