Spot the Karen - North Carolina Edition

So I’m in North Carolina, right?

Which, first off, I mistakenly referred to as a city. I was corrected by no less than three locals and one polite but judgmental barista who looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Sir… this is a state.”

Anyway, geography lesson aside, I decide to head into Asheville—this charming, artsy, weirdly mystical town where every third person is either a poet, a hiker, or a Reiki healer with a gluten-free aura.

And I end up at Pack’s Tavern, which is exactly the kind of place where you expect to overhear someone pitching a kombucha startup or debating if their dog needs therapy. Perfect vibes. I sit down, order a burger, and immediately declare to myself:

“I’m going to play Spot the Karen.”

Now, for those unfamiliar, Spot the Karen is the unofficial Olympic sport of people-watching. The rules are simple: scan the room, find the haircut, the energy, the vocal pitch of someone who looks like they’re about to ask for the manager over a lukewarm bread roll.

Round One:

At first, I thought I had her. Middle-aged woman, oversized sunglasses indoors, wearing a shirt that said “Wine Not?” in rhinestones. She looked like she could launch a Yelp review faster than I could blink. But no—she was just loudly telling her friend about her juice cleanse and trauma-bonding with the waiter about their shared fear of mushrooms. False alarm. That was a Janice. Close, but not quite Karen.

Round Two:

Then came a couple. She had a Bluetooth headset in at the dinner table, which felt illegal, and he was explaining NFTs using air quotes and vibes. She interrupted the waiter to ask if they had “paleo-friendly fries.” I reached for my Karen Buzzer™… but again, no blow-up. Just awkward, organic confusion. Maybe a Karen in training.

Then it happened.

From across the room, I hear the words that chilled me to my core:

“Excuse me, but I need to speak to someone in charge.”

My head whipped around so fast I nearly dislocated my LinkedIn settings.

There she was.

In the wild.

A full-grown Karen.

Flowy leopard print. Sunglasses perched on head like a crown of retail entitlement. Voice sharp enough to slice through a brick of locally sourced artisan cheddar.

What was the issue, you ask?

Her iced tea didn’t have “enough ice.”

She said—and I quote—“If I wanted just tea, I’d make it myself and complain about it at home.”

The manager arrived, who I swear has seen things. He apologized, replaced the tea, and even offered her a discount. And you know what she said?

“It’s not about the money. It’s about the principle.”

I nearly slow-clapped. That’s peak Karen. That’s final boss energy.

I sat there in awe. Not angry. Not annoyed. Just inspired.

Because while some travel for sunsets or museums, I had come to Asheville and found something far more majestic:

A Karen in her natural habitat—complaining about room-temperature beverages and principles.

I finished my burger in peace, tipped the waiter extra, and walked out into the North Carolina night knowing that the game of Spot the Karen is not just alive and well…

It’s thriving.