rSlash - r/Traumatizethemback How I Ruined a Karen's Day
Episode Date: December 27, 20240:00 Intro 0:07 Strong silent type 2:34 Broke him 4:53 Terminal 6:59 Endo 8:24 Pretty enough 10:03 Earrings 11:56 Disney trip 13:28 Airplane Karen Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/...adchoices
Transcript
Discussion (0)
The all-new FanDuel Sportsbook and Casino is bringing you more action than ever.
Want more ways to follow your faves?
Check out our new player prop tracking with real-time notifications.
Or have out more ways to customize your casino page
with our new favorite and recently played games tabs.
And to top it all off, quick and secure withdrawals.
Get more everything with FanDuel Sportsbook and Casino.
Gambling problem? Call 1-866-531-2600.
Visit connectsontario.ca.
Welcome to r slash traumatize them back, where people F around and find out.
Our next Reddit post is from Practical Society.
At the time of this story, I had been widowed for about two years.
I missed my late hubby a lot, so I kept his urn of ashes on my bedside table as I was
in the habit of talking to him about my day and saying goodnight at bedtime.
One day, the doorbell rang.
Being the socially anxious gal that I am, I ignored it.
But they rang the bell three more times and I became more annoyed than anxious so I answered
the door.
To my great displeasure, there was a man at my door who wanted to talk about the state
of the gutters and how desperately
they needed to be cleaned.
How convenient was it that this man was willing to do the vile job of cleaning the gutters
for 250 bucks.
I tried to politely decline, but he kept up with his pre-programmed speech and asserted
he needed to speak with the man of the house.
I leaned back into the house and called my husband's name.
Mark! I shouted. There's a guy at the door. Wants to talk about cleaning our gutters.
Obviously, my spouse did not respond. I shouted louder for my spouse, but again, he didn't
hear me or come to the door. Apologizing to this stranger, I told him I would just run
upstairs and get the man of the house.
As promised, I did run upstairs and grab Mark.
I returned to the front door, lamenting out loud to Mark how frustrating it is when he
doesn't respond to me calling for him and I hate it when he gives me the silent treatment.
Here's the man of the house!
I exclaim, holding the urn up like a game show prize.
I continued to lament to the salesman that although
Mark is a great listener, I'm saddened by how uninvolved he is with our children. He's the strong
silent type, I concluded to the now silent, bug-eyed salesman. I decided to increase my
dedication to my bit by allowing my tears to flow. Normally, I loathe crying in front of strangers, but the grief of losing the father of my children,
mixed with the rage at the arrogance and dismissive sexism led me to sob, screaming how much I
hated my current life.
There were tears and so much ugly crying, snot, sobbing noises coming out of me that
I didn't even realize he had made a mad dash to get away from this hysterical woman and back to his truck. It was cathartic for me to release those pent-up
emotions. Sometimes, I still laugh about it with Mark. I know he definitely would be howling with
laughter, as he was always quite a jokester. Our next reddit post is from Chronically Pickled.
I'm a 31-year-old woman and I'm visiting my boomer father from out of state. We're sitting around the dinner table with the rest of my family talking.
My parents split when I was 13 or 14 and they've both remarried, but my father absolutely cannot
let it go and still dumps all over my mom to this day.
Also, he recently developed this weird sense of accomplishment and bragged that you have
to raise kids to
be insecure because in his mind the only way for someone to think of other people is to
guilt them into it so they can learn to guilt themselves into it.
So he's actively boasting his successes in raising kids to be insecure and I flatly say
except that it turned me into a doormat.
I sought the approval of other people so badly that I just let anyone use me, especially
as a teenager.
My father sees this as an opportunity to trash my mom and says,
Yeah, your brother told me you used to sneak boys over to your mom's at night.
That would have never happened if I had gotten sole custody of you instead of your mom.
My response?
Actually, it probably would have happened a lot more.
In fact, the very first time it happened was here.
Let me tell you, the shock on his face was priceless.
He was almost too dumbfounded to ask, what?
I told him, yeah, I used to take my window screen out and have them climb through the
bedroom window. His jaw was on the have them climb through the bedroom window.
His jaw was on the table.
I deliver the final blow.
Oh, and by the way, I was 15 the first time.
He was 20, so a man, not a boy.
That tends to happen when you're so insecure that you'll do anything for approval.
That's when my dad's brain broke.
I have never seen him back away from a conversation so quickly.
He had no clue how to respond to that, so he just changed the topic, which honestly
stood out way more than if he had actually responded to what I said.
If you were to ask him about that conversation now, I'm 100% certain he's wiped it from
his memory.
His small mind cannot fathom it. So I'm not
surprised when he acts like it never happened. He still brags about raising kids to be insecure,
but honestly, having that lasting image of the shock on his face, that's all I need.
Our next Reddit post is from Savannah Farrow. Back in high school, my friend group included
this guy who had a terminal illness. He was at the point where his doctors were shocked that he was still alive.
Aside from being skinny and a bit pale, he looked like any other average teenager.
He had his good days and his bad days, but even on his good days, he would tire easily.
He didn't talk much about his illness and tried to be normal like everyone else.
For example, he would talk about the college he wanted to attend and what career he wanted. We respected that and never brought up his illness. He had
a placard so we would always park in handicapped spots. As you can imagine, we often got dirty
looks when a bunch of seemingly healthy teenagers piled out of the car. Our friend ignored the looks,
so we never said anything to these judgemental people. One weekend, we all decided to go to the amusement park.
After an hour or so, he started getting tired, so we got him one of those loner wheelchairs.
Like the teenagers we were, we took turns doing stuff like pushing him really fast and
doing wheelies, but were careful not to bother anyone else.
I remember him laughing his butt off.
That is, until Karen shouted at us from
like 30 feet away, you know you're keeping that wheelchair from someone who might actually need it,
don't you? I looked at my friend, and his smile instantly disappeared. I was done. F-ing done.
So, I marched over to her knowing exactly what I was going to say after biting my tongue so
many times. I didn't raise my voice so my friend wouldn't overhear what I was going to say after biting my tongue so many times.
I didn't raise my voice so my friend wouldn't overhear what I said. I said,
I'm sorry ma'am, but I'm sure you'll be happy to know that my friend has a terminal illness
and his doctors say he could die any moment now, so someone else will be able to use the wheelchair
very soon. She got all red in the face and said, Well, how was I supposed to know that? I replied,
You weren't because it's none of your effing business.
So thank you for reminding my friend that he's dying when he was having so much fun.
I turned around and walked back to my friends. He made it another two years after that.
Jay, I still miss you bro. Our next Reddit post is from illustriousdurian.
For context, this happened when I was around
16 years old. I've always struggled with severe endometriosis, and an unfortunate side
effect of endo is severe bloating or endo belly. Usually to the point where I look very
pregnant.
Even after two surgeries, I still get comments about it sometimes at 26 years old. At the time, I was 5'6 and about 100 pounds, so I looked like a pole with a huge bump sticking
out.
I lived with my parents at the time, which was in a small conservative beach town in
Florida.
Lots of old, judgmental people.
16-year-old me was walking around Walmart minding my own business, ironically looking
for maternity pants because the bloating gets so bad.
A woman, probably in her 50s, walked up to me, placed her hand on my stomach happily
saying, Oh my god, when are you due?
You look amazing.
You're so young.
Now this wasn't the first time I've had someone ask me this question, but it was the
first time that someone had the audacity
to put their hand on my stomach.
I stood there for a second just shocked and then said,
Oh, I'm not sure.
I'm only 12.
My mom knows all that stuff about pregnancy.
She immediately turned pale, took three steps back and let out a nervous chuckle.
I just stared at her, smiling, holding my stomach
as she mumbled something under her breath and walked away.
Our next reddit post is from Dazbar.
So my mom had been terminal and was in hospice care in our home. We knew that time was limited.
When I'm upset, the first thing to go to hell is my sleep schedule. I had slept two
hours the night of this story and I hadn't been getting much more
sleep than that for the few weeks preceding this. My mother ended up passing away slightly before
4am that this took place. So after she passed, I decided I needed caffeine to get through the day.
So when the nearest gas station opened up at 8am, I headed over there for some energy drinks.
I likely did look a bit of a mess. It's easy to
tell when I'm tired, and I was wearing college merch that was much bigger than my usual size.
I get out of my car and start shuffling through my clothes. I couldn't remember which gigantic
pocket I had my wallet in. While I did that, this man pulls up to a pump in a very shiny car.
I don't remember what he looked like, beyond that he looked a bit like a very put together
game show host.
The man turns to me about 20 feet away and says loudly,
It's a shame someone so pretty can't improve everyone's day with a smile.
I burst out crying, ugly crying with the sobbing mouth thing and shaking.
I just went from standing there hoping
I hadn't left my wallet at home to bawling in a mostly empty parking lot. I did manage
to yell something like, I'm sorry I'm not effing pretty enough for you when my mom died
4 hours ago. The dude turned on his heel and left. Didn't pump gas, didn't go inside
for coffee, didn't apologize. Just got in his car and left. Didn't pump gas, didn't go inside for coffee, didn't apologize. Just got in his car and
left. Our next reddit post is from DJ Darwin. I'm a straight male in my 20s living in an area of
Florida that's known for its retiree population, even among Floridians. This is where native
Floridians go to retire. As such, there's a disproportionately high number of racist,
homophobic and sexist old
people running around my area.
I work at a local library, so I have to put up with their abuse on a daily basis.
Like I said, I'm straight.
I promise that's relevant.
I also wear earrings, like a lot of them, and necklaces, bracelets, and rings.
I've been told I look like a punk rocker on a permanent Hawaiian vacation.
This is not a look that certain people appreciate, but I don't care.
Part of the appeal of looking how I do is pissing off people who look down on anyone who's other.
One morning, a few months back, I was in a grocery store before my morning commute.
I'm waiting patiently in line, minding my own business, when a voice from behind me says,
I'm waiting patiently in line, minding my own business, when a voice from behind me says,
Take that metal out of your ears, boy!
You look like a homo!
I turn around and see an old guy who probably should have died of old age before I was born.
Working with the public and dressing in a manner that most of them find distasteful,
I get this kind of abuse all the time.
At work, I can't say or do anything unless they get really rude.
But now, I finally had a chance and I decided to take advantage of it.
I smiled at him and said,
Thank you.
My boyfriends love it.
They think I'm so cute.
He didn't respond or leave or anything.
He just kind of looked at me with his mouth open.
I gave
him a big smile and turned away. He didn't say or do anything else, but when I
got up to the cashier, the cashier smiled and said, you do look really cute. I wish
I turned around to see the boomer's response, but unfortunately I didn't
think to at the time. Our next Reddit post is from deleted. I'm a 28 year old
woman and I grew up working class with many years of my childhood being
beneath the poverty line.
My parents always met our needs and tried to minimize the impact on our upbringing.
Both of my parents are extremely into Disney films.
So my brother Eric and I, he's 22, made it a goal of ours to take them on a Disney cruise
as a thank you for the sacrifices they made for us.
We paid with our own money and we surprised them with it this year.
My wife and I are child free and my brother Eric lost his daughter to SIDS two years ago,
so this trip was just five adults.
Eric is bisexual, paints his nails and has the British version of a gay voice.
Karen, a mid-30s American woman in the cabin next to
Eric's, took issue with him. She saw him leaving the cabin on his own as she was going to her cabin
with her children. She shooed her kids into the cabin before asking Eric what he was doing there,
and he replied that he was on holiday with his parents. She blocked his path and accused him
of perving on her young son, because why else would someone like you be here?
Eric told Karen that he's here with his family for a holiday and that he'd never look at a child in that way.
But she shouted that he's obviously perverted and that he shouldn't be there if he doesn't have children.
Eric shouted back,
I would have brought my daughter, but the church was reluctant to exhume her coffin for a Disney trip.
Karen was stunned into silence for a moment before huffing and going into her cabin.
Our next Reddit post is from Flaccidpasta.
I have relatively wide shoulders and was flying middle seat in economy.
I was coming back from a work trip on a full flight from New Orleans to Atlanta, which
is about one and a half hours. About five minutes after takeoff, the aisle seat Karen was acting real restless, squirming
and sighing and rolling her eyes and scoffing.
It was clear that it was because I was using the armrest between us.
I tried to make as much space as possible for her, but given my size and seat, I couldn't
really do much.
Then she snapped at me, going off about how, nobody's impressed by your muscles, you
take up way too much space, no one wants to deal with sitting next to meatheads like you,
blah blah blah.
So I interrupted her little rant and very politely but very loudly replied with, Miss,
why don't you simmer down?
This is a short flight.
And if there's one thing no one wants to deal with, it's a crying child on an airplane.
The guy sitting on the window seat and the folks across the aisle burst out laughing.
Karen was beet red and seething for the rest of the flight.
That was r slash traumatize them back and if you liked this content, be sure to follow
my podcast because I put out new reddit podcast episodes every single day.