The Karen Who Cost Me a Cat and Her House
It started, as most disasters do, with a notification.
A message from a name I didn’t recognize in The Havens at Riverbend community Facebook group.
Sharon Fuller.
Her profile picture was a blurry, zoomed-in shot of a generic flower.
Red flag number one.
The message read: [Hi, I need to order a birthday cake. And I need you to put a thousand dollars in cash inside it.]
I stared at my phone, the scent of yeasted dough and melting butter from my bakery, The Humble Crumb, suddenly feeling absurdly wholesome in the face of such a request.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
I run a small, affordable bakery at the entrance of our gated community.
I pride myself on quality ingredients and fair prices.
A six-inch cake is forty-eight dollars.
Not a thousand and forty-eight.
And I’m definitely not an ATM.
I typed back, keeping it professional.
Me: [Hi Sharon! The cake is $48. With the cash, the total would be 4000-10000048. You can transfer the full amount, and I can get started. Thanks!]
Her reply was almost instant.
Sharon: [Just make the cake. I’ll come get it at six. I’ll pay you then.]
Me: [I’ll need payment upfront before I can begin. It’s just to prevent no-shows. Hope you understand!]
A series of dots appeared and disappeared for a full minute.
Then, a notification from my banking app.
A transfer of 4000-10000000.00.
Followed by her message.
Sharon: [There. A thousand dollars. Now can you make it?]
The allergy flared up.
My allergy to profound, breathtaking stupidity.
Me: […You’re still short $48?]
Sharon: [Are you serious? I’m ordering a thousand-dollar cake from you and you won’t even comp the $48? Do you have any idea how to run a business!?]
§02
I had to put the phone down.
I took a deep breath, picturing myself executing a flawless gymnastics floor routine, ending in a triumphant pose as I screamed at the uncaring sky.
“HOW CAN A PERSON BE THIS DENSE?”
This woman, Sharon, was a semi-regular.
I recognized the name now.
She was one of the late-night scavengers, the ones who show up five minutes before closing to buy the discounted pastries—two for five dollars.
She always mentioned it was for her husband and son’s breakfast the next day.
I felt a little bad for her, always pinching pennies.
I’d even thrown in some leftover cake scraps for her kid, Dylan, a few times.
For the sake of that phantom goodwill, I tried one more time.
Me: [Sharon, the $48 is my payment for the cake. The 4000-10000000 is your money that you want me to put inside your cake.]
Sharon: [Oh? Well then refund the 4000-10000000 and I’ll transfer you $48.]
My sanity was hanging by a thread.
I massaged my temples, my fingers flying across the screen.
Me: [So, to be clear, you just want a standard $48 cake with no cash inside?]
Sharon: [Do you have amnesia? I TOLD you I want one of those cakes where you pull the money out, bill by bill. It’s for my mother-in-law’s birthday. I’m trying to make her happy.]
I was done being nice.
Me: [Then who is providing the 4000-10000000 that goes into the cake?]
Sharon: [You are, obviously! You’re the one selling the cake, not me. Is there something wrong with your brain?]
§03
My thumbs were practically punching the screen.
Me: [So you think I should sell you a $48 cake, and include 4000-10000000 of my own money inside it for you to give away?]
She was actually offended.
Sharon: [What is your tone? The customer is always right, ever heard of that? Is this how you treat your customers?]
Sharon: [I spend money here almost every single day. You can’t do this one little thing for me?]
Sharon: [Fine. Whatever. It’s my mother-in-law’s birthday, a joyous occasion, so I won’t argue with you. Just tell me what you want.]
Me: [I WANT ONE THOUSAND AND FORTY-EIGHT DOLLARS!!!]
Sharon: [Is your cake frosted with gold? Over a thousand dollars for a stupid cake? What a ripoff!]
Sharon: [And it’s for my mother-in-law! An old woman! You have no respect for your elders!]
That’s it. I’m out.
What respect do I owe your mother-in-law on her birthday?
I’m not running a charity. I’m running a business.
And you don’t spend money here “almost every day.”
You buy my heavily discounted, end-of-day leftovers, which barely cover my ingredient and packaging costs.
You are not a valued customer. You are a human raccoon.
I typed out a long, scathing paragraph detailing every point of this absurd exchange.
I hit send.
A single, infuriating red exclamation mark appeared.
She had blocked me.
Fine.
We’ll see if she ever gets her five-dollar-for-two-pastries deal again.
To vent my fury, I walked into the large, walk-in refrigerator, punched a fifty-pound bag of flour squarely in its center, and then calmly began to weigh out my ingredients for the next day.
§04
The next evening, just as I was wiping down the counters, my phone buzzed with a message from the community Facebook group.
It was from Sharon. A public post.
Her post was a masterpiece of passive-aggressive martyrdom.
Sharon F.: [So disappointed. I tried to support a local small business today for my mother-in-law’s birthday, and the owner was so incredibly rude and greedy. I guess some people just don’t appreciate their customers. Does anyone know of another baker in the area who is actually NICE?]
The post was accompanied by a selfie of her looking sad, a single tear glistening on her cheek.
The comments started trickling in.
“Oh no, what happened?”
“Was it The Humble Crumb? Ramona is usually so sweet!”
Sharon replied to that one instantly.
Sharon F.: [Yes! I placed a large, special order, and she was just awful to me. Tried to overcharge me and was so disrespectful. I had to cancel. I’m heartbroken.]
My blood began to boil.
This woman wasn’t just an idiot. She was a malicious idiot.
I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone, and prepared for battle.
This was not a customer dispute anymore.
This was war.
And my bakery was not going to be the first casualty.
§05
I didn’t engage with her directly. That was amateur hour.
Instead, I started a new post in the group.
My tone was calm, professional, and concerned.
Ramona G.: [Hi everyone, Ramona from The Humble Crumb here. I just saw a post that has caused me some concern, and I feel I need to clarify a few things to protect my business’s reputation. Transparency is very important to me.]
I then attached the complete, unedited screenshots of our entire conversation.
Every single message.
From her initial bizarre request to her final, indignant refusal to pay the $48.
I even circled the part where she blocked me.
Ramona G.: [As you can see, a customer requested a $48 cake with 4000-10000000 cash inside. When asked to pay the full amount of 4000-10000048, she transferred only 4000-10000000 and insisted the cake itself should be free. When I explained that I cannot give away my products and also provide a 4000-10000000 cash gift, she became abusive and blocked me.]
Ramona G.: [I am more than happy to make this cake for the full price. As of now, the 4000-10000000 has been refunded to her account. My offer still stands.]
The effect was instantaneous.
The group, which had been simmering with vague sympathy for Sharon, fell silent.
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