And while I dealt with repairs, the internet was having the time of its life. Jim sent me updates daily. Four million views. Seven million. “Oh my God, someone made a remix of her yelling ‘borrowed.’” I did not listen, but I could not avoid it forever. On the fifth day, I overheard two teenagers at the marina singing “It’s a borrow, baby” to the tune of a pop song, laughing hysterically. Jim was right. Karen had become a meme. But I did not see the full scope until one night when I finally caved and checked my own notifications. People from all over the world had tagged me in posts. News outlets reached out. A boating podcast wanted to interview me. Someone had printed Karen’s face onto a T-shirt that read, HOA doesn’t stand for Have Others’ Amenities. I did not know whether to laugh or cry.
Jim, on the other hand, was thriving. I found him lounging on his porch with sunglasses on, replying to comments like a celebrity. When he saw me, he grinned. “Welcome to fame, buddy.” “I don’t want fame.” “Too bad. Fame wants you.” I sighed. “What about Karen? Has she reacted?” Jim’s grin softened. “Oh, you haven’t heard?” He stood up dramatically and cleared his throat like he was about to narrate a nature documentary. “Behold, the rare and volatile species known as the HOA Karen, now in her natural habitat of community service.” I blinked. “Community service?” Jim nodded. “Mandatory, per her charges. She’s been assigned to the marina cleanup crew twice a week, and rumor has it she’s not taking it well.” I closed my eyes. “Please don’t tell me people are filming her.” Jim hesitated, which meant they definitely were.
So the next morning, I drove to the marina. Not to see her, I told myself, but to check on Seabreeze, which had been hauled up for repairs. But the moment I walked onto the dock, I saw her. She wore oversized sunglasses, a floppy hat, and a reflective vest, like she was in witness protection. In her hand was a trash picker she was wielding like it personally offended her. Each time she stabbed a piece of litter, she muttered curses under her breath. “Are you kidding me? Trash. They have me picking up trash. Me.” Her voice carried across the dock, and a few boaters glanced her way, whispering. Karen noticed them and snapped, “What? Never seen community service before?”