The Maternity Ward Meltdown: How One Woman’s Unbelievable Entitlement Sparked a Viral Lesson in Empathy
The Sanctuary of New Beginnings and Sudden Chaos
Hospitals are complex ecosystems of human emotion. Within their sterile walls, people experience the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. But if there is one place in a medical facility that is universally recognized as a sanctuary of hope, anticipation, and delicate vulnerability, it is the maternity ward. It is a space designed specifically to cater to the unique physical and emotional needs of expectant mothers. The waiting room of a labor and delivery floor is typically a quiet, tense, yet hopeful environment. Couples sit holding hands, flipping through outdated magazines, anxiously awaiting the ultrasound results that will map out the future of their growing families.
It is a place where the unwritten social contract dictates utmost respect and quiet support. You give up your seat for the heavily pregnant. You speak in hushed tones. You offer empathetic smiles to the nervous first-time parents. It is a space built entirely around the miracle and medical reality of pregnancy.
So, imagine the sheer, unadulterated absurdity of someone walking into this highly specific environment and aggressively demanding that the pregnant women leave because their very existence is “triggering.”
It sounds like a poorly written sketch comedy routine, an exaggerated parody of modern entitlement. Unfortunately for Sarah and Tom Mitchell, this was not a television show. It was a very real, incredibly distressing Tuesday afternoon at Memorial Hospital. The incident that unfolded not only tested the boundaries of public decency but eventually captured the attention of millions across the globe, serving as a glaring modern morality tale about entitlement, the weaponization of therapy language, and the swift, undeniable power of internet justice.
The Agonizing Road to Thirty-Two Weeks
To truly understand the gravity of the confrontation, one must first understand the intense emotional journey of the couple at the center of it. Sarah and Tom Mitchell were not just casually stopping by the hospital for a routine check-up. Their journey to this waiting room had been paved with three agonizing years of trying to conceive.
Infertility is a silent struggle that tests the foundation of a relationship. It is a relentless cycle of hope and crushing disappointment, tracked on calendars and measured in negative test results. When Sarah finally saw the two pink lines indicating she was pregnant, it felt as though a massive, suffocating weight had been lifted from their shoulders. It was supposed to be the happiest, most purely joyful time of their lives. They painted the nursery, picked out names, and began to envision the life they had fought so hard to create.
However, the fragility of pregnancy is a biological reality that does not care about how badly a couple wants a child. At thirty-two weeks—a critical juncture in the third trimester—Sarah began experiencing terrifying complications. Her blood pressure inexplicably spiked to dangerous levels, a major red flag for preeclampsia, a condition that can be life-threatening for both the mother and the unborn baby. Her obstetrician took no chances, immediately ordering her to Memorial Hospital’s maternity ward for emergency, comprehensive monitoring.
When Sarah and Tom arrived at the hospital at 2:00 p.m. that Tuesday, they were physically exhausted and emotionally hollowed out by fear. Sarah was visibly, heavily pregnant. She wore a soft pink maternity dress that draped over her prominent belly. Every movement required calculation and effort, a physical manifestation of the heavy burden she was carrying. As she slowly lowered herself into one of the waiting room chairs, her hand instinctively moved to rest protectively over her unborn child.
Tom took the seat immediately beside her. He held her free hand tightly, leaning in to whisper quiet, steady reassurances while they waited for the ultrasound technician to call her name. They were doing exactly what any loving couple would do in a moment of medical crisis: clinging to each other and hoping for the best.
The waiting room was peaceful. It was about half full, containing perhaps six other people scattered across the rows of vinyl chairs. The atmosphere was quiet, respectful, and appropriately subdued.
And then, Linda Morrison walked in.
The Arrival of Unprecedented Entitlement
There is a specific type of energy that certain people carry with them—an aggressive, restless aura that signals to everyone in the vicinity that a storm is brewing. Linda Morrison, a fifty-two-year-old woman dressed in a navy blue polo shirt and khaki capri pants, radiated this exact energy.
From the moment she crossed the threshold into the maternity waiting room, Linda’s eyes darted aggressively around the space. She scanned the room with the critical, hyper-focused gaze of someone who is perpetually searching for something, anything, to complain about. Her lips were already pursed into a tight, thin line of disapproval before she had even registered the other occupants of the room.
Linda’s eyes eventually landed on Sarah and Tom. To any rational human being, the sight of a distressed, heavily pregnant woman leaning on her husband in a maternity ward would evoke a sense of quiet empathy. But Linda did not operate on the spectrum of rational empathy.
Without a moment of hesitation, Linda squared her shoulders and marched directly across the room. She bypassed empty chairs and open spaces, making a beeline straight for the expectant couple.
She abruptly halted directly in front of them, invading their personal space, and planted her hands firmly on her hips. When she spoke, she did not lower her voice to accommodate the quiet room. She spoke with the loud, demanding cadence of someone addressing a misbehaving employee.
“Excuse me,” Linda declared, her voice echoing off the linoleum floors. “I need you to move to a different area. I’m very uncomfortable sitting near pregnant women. It makes me anxious.”
The Confrontation: When Empathy Evaporates
For a moment, time seemed to freeze in the waiting room. Sarah and Tom simply stared up at the woman standing over them, completely paralyzed by confusion. The human brain naturally tries to find logic in social interactions, and Linda’s demand was so fundamentally devoid of logic that it required a moment of buffering.
Tom, operating under the assumption that this must be some sort of bizarre misunderstanding, spoke first. He kept his voice polite, though his bewilderment was painfully obvious.
“I’m sorry. What?” Tom asked, gesturing slightly around the room. “This is the maternity ward waiting room. Everyone here is either pregnant or waiting with someone who is.”
It was a statement of pure, undeniable fact. It was the equivalent of walking into an Italian restaurant and pointing out that people were eating pasta. But facts, as it turns out, were utterly irrelevant to Linda Morrison.
Instead of realizing her mistake or recognizing the absurdity of her request, Linda’s face flushed a deep, angry shade of red. She doubled down.
“I don’t care,” Linda snapped, her volume rising. “I have a medical appointment on this floor, and I should be able to sit wherever I want without having to look at pregnant bellies. It’s triggering for me.”
In recent years, the language of clinical psychology has seeped into everyday conversation. Words like “triggering,” “boundaries,” and “mental health needs” are incredibly important terms designed to help individuals navigate genuine trauma and establish healthy dynamics. However, in the hands of someone driven purely by entitlement, these vital clinical terms are violently weaponized. Linda was not expressing a genuine psychological crisis; she was utilizing therapy buzzwords as a rhetorical battering ram to force compliance from a vulnerable stranger.
Despite the sheer exhaustion settling deep into her bones, and despite the terrifying anxiety regarding the health of her unborn baby, Sarah attempted to take the high road. She tried to de-escalate the situation with grace.
“I’m sorry you’re going through something difficult,” Sarah said softly, attempting to be understanding. “But we’re waiting for an important test. We were here first, and there are plenty of other seats available.”
It was a generous response—far more generous than Linda deserved. But appeasement only fuels the fire of entitlement.
“You’re being selfish!” Linda shouted, her voice now carrying a sharp, hysterical edge. “I’m a paying patient at this hospital. I have rights. You need to respect my comfort and move to the back of the room, or wait in the hallway.”
The atmosphere in the waiting room had completely shifted. The quiet tension of medical anxiety had been entirely replaced by collective, jaw-dropping shock. An elderly couple sitting across the aisle from Sarah and Tom looked absolutely horrified, their eyes wide with disbelief. A young woman sitting near the vending machines, recognizing the rapid escalation of the bizarre encounter, quietly slid her smartphone out of her pocket and hit the record button. History was about to be made, and she knew it.
Tom’s polite confusion vanished, instantly replaced by the fierce, protective instincts of a husband and father. He stood up, placing his body firmly between his vulnerable wife and the aggressive woman shouting at them.
“Ma’am, you need to back up and leave my wife alone,” Tom stated, his voice dropping an octave into a firm, non-negotiable warning. “She’s eight months pregnant with complications. She needs to rest, and we’re not moving.”
Rather than retreating from the physical boundary Tom had established, Linda leaned in, violently invading their personal space.
“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” she shrieked, her face now inches from Tom’s. “I will call security! I will have you removed from this hospital! You can’t discriminate against me for my mental health needs!”
She was actively pointing a trembling finger in Tom’s face, entirely lost in the throes of a public meltdown over her own manufactured victimhood.
The Intervention of Veteran Authority
Hospitals do not function solely on the expertise of doctors and advanced medical machinery; the true backbone of any medical facility is its nursing staff. Nurses are the ultimate frontline workers. They are part medical professionals, part therapists, part social workers, and when necessary, part bouncers.
Nurse Rebecca was a veteran of the maternity ward. With twenty-three years of experience in labor and delivery, she had seen the absolute extremes of human behavior. She had navigated the panic of emergency cesarean sections, counseled grieving parents, and managed the chaotic joy of healthy births. She possessed a deeply ingrained radar for trouble.
Hearing the shrill, unnatural commotion echoing down the hallway from the nursing station, Nurse Rebecca did not hesitate. She came power-walking into the waiting room, her posture radiating an impenetrable aura of absolute, undeniable authority. She wore the expression of a woman who had firmly reached her lifetime quota of dealing with entitled nonsense and was not about to accept a single drop more.
“Ma’am,” Nurse Rebecca announced, her voice cutting through the shouting like a surgical scalpel. “I’m going to need you to step back and lower your voice. This is a medical facility, and you’re disturbing other patients.”
Linda whipped around, her face flushed with righteous indignation. Instead of recognizing she was being reprimanded, Linda mistakenly believed her savior had arrived.
“Finally, someone with authority,” Linda huffed, crossing her arms. “I’m demanding these two be removed from the waiting room. They’re causing me emotional distress.”
Nurse Rebecca stopped in her tracks. She looked at Linda, then looked at the heavily pregnant Sarah, and then back at Linda. The nurse crossed her arms over her chest, assuming a stance of immovable professional calm.
“Ma’am, what’s your name, and what are you here for?” Nurse Rebecca asked smoothly.
“Linda Morrison,” she replied haughtily, puffing out her chest. “And I have a dermatology appointment on the third floor, but I decided to use this waiting room because the chairs looked more comfortable.”
The Dermatology Disconnect and the Public Roast
The absolute silence that followed Linda’s declaration was profound. You could have heard a pin drop on the linoleum floor. The sheer, unfathomable audacity of her statement hung in the air, heavy and ridiculous.
Nurse Rebecca’s eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into her hairline. She took a slow, deep breath to process the monumental absurdity she had just been handed.
“Let me get this straight,” Nurse Rebecca said, her voice dripping with deliberate articulation. “You don’t have an appointment in the maternity ward. You came to a completely different floor. You walked into a waiting room specifically designated for expectant mothers and their families. And you are demanding that an actually pregnant patient leave because you are uncomfortable with pregnancy?”
Any person possessing an ounce of self-awareness would have crumbled under the weight of that summary. They would have apologized profusely, blamed it on a lack of coffee, and sprinted for the elevator.
Linda doubled down.
“Yes,” she stated proudly. “And as a patient of this hospital, I have every right to use any waiting area I choose.”
From across the room, the tension finally snapped. The elderly man sitting with his wife let out a loud, uncontrollable bark of laughter. He physically could not contain himself. His wife quickly elbowed him in the ribs, but a massive, delighted smile was spreading across her face as well.
Nurse Rebecca’s tone shifted. It dropped from inquisitive to the deadly, unshakeable calm that veteran nurses reserve for completely uncooperative individuals. It is a tone that signals the end of the negotiation phase.
“Ma’am, no. You don’t have that right,” Nurse Rebecca stated flatly. “This waiting area is reserved specifically for maternity patients. Your dermatology appointment is two floors down, and it has its own waiting room. You need to leave this area immediately. If you continue to harass these patients, I will call security, and you will be escorted from the building entirely.”
Linda’s mouth fell open, closing and opening again like a fish gasping for air on a dry dock. The script she had written in her head, where the hospital staff rushed to validate her unreasonable demands, was burning to ashes before her eyes.
“You can’t kick me out!” Linda shrieked, instantly reverting to the universal battle cries of the entitled. “I’ll sue! I’ll report you to the hospital board! I’ll leave a one-star review!”
Unbothered, Nurse Rebecca calmly reached into her pocket and pulled out her hospital-issued phone. “That is absolutely your choice,” she replied evenly. “But right now, you have two options. You can walk yourself down to the third floor, or I can call security to physically escort you. Which option would you prefer?”
Panic began to set in. Linda whipped her head around, scanning the waiting room, desperately hoping to find a single sympathetic ally among the spectators. Instead, she was met with a wall of intense glaring and pointed looks of disgust. The young woman by the vending machines was still holding up her phone, the red recording light blinking steadily, capturing every single second of Linda’s spectacular downfall.
“But it’s discrimination!” Linda wailed, playing her final, desperate card. “You’re all ganging up on me because I’m expressing my needs!”
That was the breaking point for the elderly woman across the room. She leaned forward, her voice sickly sweet but dripping with lethal, perfectly executed sarcasm.
“Honey,” the elderly woman cooed loudly. “The only thing being expressed here is your profound lack of common sense. Now, go sit in your own waiting room and leave that poor pregnant girl alone.”
It was the final nail in the coffin. The public humiliation was absolute. Defeated, furious, and humiliated, Linda snatched her purse from her shoulder, shot the entire room a look of pure, unadulterated hatred, and stormed toward the exit doors.
But a true public meltdown is rarely complete without a parting shot. Stopping dramatically in the doorway, Linda spun around and delivered one final, cinematic threat to the room at large.
“You haven’t heard the last of me!” she bellowed. “I’m calling Channel 7 News! This will be a national story!”
With that, she stomped down the hallway, the rubber soles of her white tennis shoes squeaking loudly and aggressively against the polished tile floor until she finally disappeared into the elevator bay.
The Medical Relief and the Birth of Hope
The moment the heavy double doors closed behind Linda, the waiting room collectively exhaled. The tension evaporated, instantly replaced by a wave of communal solidarity. The elderly couple across the aisle smiled warmly and gave Sarah and Tom an enthusiastic thumbs-up. The young woman who had been recording lowered her phone and called out across the room, “I got the whole thing on video! Do you want me to send it to you guys?”
Sitting heavily in her chair, the adrenaline finally leaving her system, Sarah began to cry. They were not tears of fear, but a massive, overwhelming release of relief tangled with sheer, exhausted laughter. She buried her face in Tom’s shoulder, unable to fully process the bizarre reality of what had just occurred.
Nurse Rebecca immediately knelt beside Sarah’s chair, her professional demeanor shifting back into deep, nurturing care. She gently checked Sarah’s pulse and respiration.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Nurse Rebecca asked softly, her eyes full of concern. “Did she touch you or hurt you in any way?”
Sarah wiped her eyes and shook her head. “No, I’m okay. Just shaken up. I just can’t believe someone would act like that in a maternity ward, of all places.”
Tom was still standing, his posture rigid, his fists unclenched but his jaw tight. “Is she really going to call the news? Can she actually cause legal problems for us?”
Nurse Rebecca let out a rich, warm laugh that instantly put them at ease. “Honey, I’ve been a labor and delivery nurse for twenty-three years. I have seen some wild, unbelievable things in this hospital, but that woman just set a brand new record for absolute absurdity. She has absolutely no grounds for any complaint whatsoever. She was aggressively harassing a vulnerable patient in a restricted medical waiting area. If anything, we are going to ban her from the hospital.”
She patted Sarah’s hand reassuringly. “You just focus on you, and you focus on that baby. I’ll make sure that woman doesn’t come anywhere near you again.”
Twenty anxious minutes later, a technician finally called Sarah’s name. Tom helped her out of her chair, and they walked back into the dim, quiet ultrasound room. As the technician ran the wand over Sarah’s belly, the rhythmic, rapid whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of a strong heartbeat filled the small room. Tears of pure joy replaced the tears of stress. Despite the terrifying blood pressure spikes and the bizarre encounter in the waiting room, the baby was perfectly healthy. The ultrasound showed excellent movement, appropriate fluid levels, and absolutely no signs of fetal distress.
When Sarah and Tom finally emerged from the clinical area to collect their belongings, Nurse Rebecca was waiting for them near the desk. She flashed a massive smile and gave them a thumbs-up. True to her word, she had already filed a comprehensive incident report and spoken directly with the head of hospital security. Linda Morrison had been officially, permanently banned from entering the maternity ward floor. Furthermore, if she caused any disruption during her dermatology appointment, she would be formally trespassed from the entire hospital property.
Three weeks later, following a period of strict bed rest and careful monitoring, Sarah and Tom returned to Memorial Hospital. This time, there was no waiting room drama. Surrounded by the excellent care of the medical staff, Sarah delivered a beautiful, perfectly healthy baby girl. She weighed 7 pounds, 6 ounces, and possessed a thick, full head of blonde hair, looking exactly like her mother.
They decided to name her Hope. After three grueling years of infertility struggles, terrifying third-trimester medical complications, and navigating the sheer insanity of a literal ‘Karen’ in a hospital waiting room, hope was exactly what had carried them through the darkness.
The Digital Reckoning: TikTok and Viral Justice
While Sarah and Tom were privately focusing on the arrival of their daughter, the bizarre waiting room encounter was taking on a massive life of its own in the digital sphere.
The young woman by the vending machines, recognizing the potent societal value of the footage she had captured, uploaded the video to TikTok later that same evening. She kept the caption simple, accurate, and highly searchable: “Karen tries to kick pregnant woman out of maternity ward waiting room.”
The internet is a vast, unpredictable ocean, but there are certain types of content that act as digital lightning rods. The video contained all the perfect elements for viral explosion: undeniable entitlement, an innocent victim, a ridiculous premise, and the immensely satisfying arrival of a no-nonsense authority figure who delivers swift, uncompromising justice.
By the time the sun rose the next morning, the algorithm had worked its magic. The video exploded. Within forty-eight hours, it had amassed a staggering 4.3 million views, generated over 800,000 likes, and sparked tens of thousands of comments.
The comment section became a digital town square where people gathered to collectively roast Linda’s unparalleled audacity. Users marveled at the sheer cognitive dissonance required to walk into a maternity ward and demand the removal of pregnant women. Healthcare professionals flooded the comments, praising Nurse Rebecca’s textbook de-escalation skills and begging the hospital to give her a raise. Expectant mothers shared their own stories of vulnerability in public spaces, creating a wave of solidarity for Sarah.
Ironically, Linda’s parting threat actually came true. The local news did pick up the story. However, it was not the sympathetic, victim-focused coverage she had desperately demanded. Channel 7 News ran a special segment exploring the rising tide of entitled, aggressive behavior directed at healthcare workers and patients in medical settings. They played the viral clip, blurring faces for privacy, and used Linda as the prime, glaring example of exactly what not to do in a hospital.
The news station even managed to secure a brief interview with Nurse Rebecca. Standing in her scrubs outside the hospital, she calmly and professionally explained that maternity wards are carefully curated safe spaces designed to protect expectant families during highly vulnerable moments. She reiterated that Linda’s actions were a severe breach of hospital protocol and basic human decency. Sarah and Tom were contacted by producers but politely declined to be interviewed; they had no interest in chasing internet fame. They simply wanted to focus entirely on their newborn daughter, Hope.
Real-World Consequences and the ‘Karen’ Phenomenon
The viral fame was not without severe, real-world consequences for the antagonist of the story. According to the ever-reliable hospital grapevine, Linda Morrison did exactly what she threatened to do. The following day, she attempted to file a massive, formal grievance with the hospital’s administration board, claiming she had faced targeted discrimination and severe emotional distress at the hands of the nursing staff.
Unfortunately for Linda, hospitals possess highly functional legal departments and comprehensive security camera networks. The legal team reviewed the incident report, analyzed the waiting room security footage, and collected official statements from the bewildered elderly couple and the other witnesses.
Not only did the hospital swiftly and permanently dismiss her ridiculous complaint, but they issued a harsh counter-measure. Linda was sent a formal, certified letter from the hospital’s legal counsel warning her that any further harassment of patients, staff, or visitors would result in an immediate, permanent ban from utilizing any facility within the hospital’s entire medical network.
But the digital consequences were far more severe. The internet is highly proficient at crowdsourced investigation. Within days of the video going viral, users had tracked down Linda’s public digital footprint. They found her Facebook profile. They found her place of employment. Most damningly, they uncovered her extensive, legendary history on review sites like Yelp.
It quickly became apparent that the hospital incident was not a one-off bad day; it was an established lifestyle of professional complaining. Internet sleuths discovered that Linda had a long, documented history of making the lives of service workers miserable. They found one-star reviews she had left for local restaurants complaining that the ambient background music was “too aggressive.” They unearthed complaints she had formally lodged with her local Homeowners Association (HOA) demanding her neighbor take down their Christmas lights because they were “too festive and distracting.” They even found social media posts detailing a legendary meltdown she had orchestrated at a local Target when the teenage cashier refused to accept a blatantly expired coupon for an item that wasn’t even on sale.
The internet did what the internet does best: it turned her into a permanent meme. Comedic creators on TikTok filmed hilarious reenactments of the hospital scene. One musically inclined user even composed and produced a viral acoustic song titled “Linda’s Lament,” detailing the tragic tale of a woman who hates pregnant bellies but voluntarily hangs out in maternity wards. The public shaming was brutal, relentless, and undeniably hilarious.
The Broader Societal Impact: Navigating Public Spaces and Empathy
While it is incredibly easy to laugh at the absurdity of Linda Morrison’s behavior, the viral incident highlights a much deeper, more concerning societal trend. It exposes the dark underbelly of how therapeutic language is increasingly being weaponized by individuals to exert control over public spaces.
Linda claimed she was “triggered” by the sight of pregnancy and demanded accommodation for her “mental health.” Mental health struggles, phobias, and genuine triggers are incredibly real and highly valid experiences that deserve societal compassion and personal accommodation. However, personal triggers are exactly that—personal. It is the responsibility of the individual to manage their triggers, not the responsibility of society to bend to their every whim, especially in spaces explicitly designed for the thing they are avoiding.
Voluntarily walking into a maternity ward while claiming to be triggered by pregnancy is the logical equivalent of a person with a severe fear of heights purchasing a ticket to the top of the Empire State Building, riding the elevator to the observation deck, and then angrily demanding that everyone else vacate the premises because they feel dizzy. It is not a request for reasonable accommodation; it is pure, unadulterated manipulation disguised as vulnerability.
Sarah and Tom handled the bizarre confrontation with vastly more grace and dignity than Linda deserved. They did not immediately resort to shouting. They attempted to be polite and understanding, giving a stranger the benefit of the doubt until it became crystal clear that she was not a person in genuine distress, but rather a bully seeking submission.
Furthermore, the incident shines a brilliant spotlight on the quiet, everyday heroism of healthcare workers like Nurse Rebecca. Nurses are currently navigating an incredibly demanding, high-stress profession that has been stretched to its absolute limits. On top of monitoring complex medical conditions and saving lives, they are increasingly forced to act as public mediators, stepping in to shield their patients from the rising tide of public entitlement. The fact that Nurse Rebecca was able to shut down a screaming tantrum with such surgical efficiency, maintaining her fierce professionalism while fiercely protecting Sarah’s emotional well-being, is exactly the kind of energy the world desperately needs.
The ultimate moral of this story extends far beyond simply laughing at a viral ‘Karen’ video. It is a powerful reminder regarding the boundaries of public spaces and the limits of individual entitlement. Your personal discomfort does not grant you the authority to police the existence of other human beings, especially when those humans are occupying spaces specifically designated for them. Maternity wards are sanctuaries for pregnant people. If the reality of human reproduction makes you uncomfortable, the solution is remarkably simple: do not go to the maternity ward. Wait in your car. Sit in the cafeteria. Handle your complex emotions like an adult, rather than demanding the world shrink to accommodate your unreasonable demands.
For all the expecting parents out there navigating the terrifying, beautiful, and stressful journey of bringing new life into the world, you deserve to feel absolutely safe and completely supported in medical spaces. You are engaging in the incredible, taxing process of growing a human being, and that vulnerability deserves nothing but the utmost respect and fierce protection from society at large.
So, the next time you witness someone being unfairly harassed in a public space, channel your inner Nurse Rebecca. Step forward. Speak up. Do not allow bullies to dictate the rules of engagement simply because they are the loudest voices in the room. And if you ever find yourself on the receiving end of a Linda Morrison-style meltdown, remember that you have every right to stand your ground.
The Karens of the world may be incredibly loud, and they may occasionally hijack our waiting rooms, but they are vastly outnumbered by decent, empathetic humans who still understand the value of basic courtesy and common sense. This wild story ended with the birth of a beautiful, healthy baby girl, a well-deserved hospital ban for an entitled bully, and a viral video that will echo across the internet forever as a digital monument to the fact that actions have consequences. Sometimes, those consequences just happen to include becoming the internet’s favorite cautionary meme.
