Introduction

In this heart-pounding episode of the MaakselPrep Podcast, meet Karen, a millennial living the high life in a luxury city condo—until a week-long power outage turns her world upside down. From waking up to no coffee or cell service to facing hunger, isolation, and rising violence in her gentrified neighborhood, Karen’s story exposes the dangers of normalcy bias and unpreparedness. As her haven becomes a trap, hear her regrets and lessons learned in this vivid tale of societal unraveling. Visit MaakselPrep.com for gear to fortify your life, and like, share, and subscribe for more stories that prepare you for the unexpected.

Episode Transcript

View from the Top: Karen’s Story

Hey, it’s Karen. I’m sitting here in my condo, and it’s day seven of this power outage. I never thought I’d be telling a story like this, but I want to share what I’ve been through—what I’m still going through. Maybe it’ll help someone out there. Maybe it’ll help me make sense of it all.

I live in a luxury condo in the heart of the city—a high-income millennial’s dream. Fitness center, pool, coffee shop, bike room, co-working space, movie room, even a dog wash. My boyfriend, Mark, and I moved in a few months ago, thrilled with the amenities and the vibe. It’s in a rough part of town, sure, but with great restaurants and very diverse. The building has good security, a concierge and keycard access. I always felt safe inside, like the world outside couldn’t touch me, wasn’t relevant. Preparedness? Never crossed my mind. Why would it? I had Grubhub, just-in-time delivery, and a fridge full of luxury foods. I worked hard for it.

That all changed a week ago.

Day 1: The Morning After

I woke up to silence—no AC hum, no night light. My phone wasn’t charged, Ipad dead. I tapped it, annoyed, then realized the power must’ve gone out overnight. Mark was still snoring—we’d been at a roof deck party, drinking and laughing, perhaps too buzzed to notice the lights flickering.

I shuffled to the kitchen, craving my usual coffee. The machine was lifeless. Downstairs, the coffee shop was shut, a sign scrawled: “Closed due to power outage.” I groaned. No coffee, no eggs—just cereal with lukewarm milk. Mark woke up, shrugged. “It’ll be back soon,” he said. I nodded, hopeful. A minor glitch, right? Normalcy bias, they call it—assuming things will always stay fine because they always have. I didn’t think twice about what might be happening. Empty pantry, dead phones….

But hours passed. No power. No cell service. No internet. The TV was a brick, the speakers silent. I felt cut off, irritated. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered. Mark suggested checking the management office, but it was locked, deserted. The city outside looked weird—dark, quiet, confused. Still, I thought, It’s temporary. It has to be.

Day 2: Cracks in the Facade

Day two, still no power. The faucet trickled—barely enough to fill a bottle. Friends in the building packed up, heading to family out of state. “Come with us,” they urged. “Nah,” I said, “we’ll ride it out.” Mark agreed. We thought we were tough, that the city would bounce back. Classic denial—assuming our bubble couldn’t burst.

But the streets turned tense. I saw people lugging bags, heard rumors of looting. From our window, I watched a group smash a store window. My stomach knotted. We decided to ration or food. A few cans of soup, avocados, bananas and crackers. At least we had a few bottles of wine I thought. But it hit me: we had no stockpile. Nothing if this draws on. No plan. I’d always scoffed at “preppers”. Now I envied those that stocked up.

Day 3: The Heat and the Hunger

The condo became a sauna—humid, suffocating. I missed my AC, my phone, my routine. Hunger gnawed at us. The fridge was a warm tomb, food spoiled. Outside, I saw a fight over bottled water—shouting, fists. Gunshots echoed later. “We’ll be fine,” Mark said, but his eyes betrayed him. I wasn’t so sure anymore. “Should we try and get out? Perhaps leave after dark? But where would we go?”

Day 5: Mark’s Gone

Mark left on day five. “I’ll find food,” he promised, kissing me. “Stay safe.” I watched him go, fear clawing at me. He didn’t come back. Hours stretched into night. I was alone, jumping at every creak. Neighbors wouldn’t answer their doors—many had fled. The building felt like a ghost town. The roof deck empty.

Day 7: The Nightmare

Now it’s day seven. No food, no water, no Mark. I’ve seen things—violence in the streets, people with bats and knives. The concierge is long gone, no real security apart from glass doors. Last night, I heard glass shattering downstairs. Perhaps someone trying to break in. I barricaded my door with a chair, useless as it is. I don’t own a gun, never thought I’d need one.

I’m out of everything. No way to call for help. I saw a man get jumped for a backpack yesterday—shocking, brutal. This isn’t the city I knew, or is it? I hear screams now, footsteps in the hall. They’re coming up the stairs, pounding on doors. Desperate voices shout for food, water… Shouting for bodies, distraction, anything they can get there hands on. I’m shaking, hiding, regretting.

I regret it all. Ignoring the world around me. Relying on delivery. Relying on fragile systems. I could afford stocking up, having some food. I regret thinking the condo’s security would save me. I was so naive, so caught up in my perfect life—coffee runs, rooftop parties, luxury. Now it’s gone, and I’m stuck in this apocalyptic mess. A victim in this new world…

No, I’m not a victim, I’ll get through this. I’ll survive. Hide for now and make it out tonight. I’ll change. When this is over it will be different. I’ll be prepared, I’ll be informed, I’ll be ready. I’ll learn to protect myself.

I hear them at my door now, knocking, yelling. I clutch my dead phone.

Don’t wait like I did. Normal can vanish fast. Get ready—because when it’s gone, it’s too late.

Useful Links & Resources

• Emergency Food
• Water Storage
• Backpack
• Powerbank