An 86-year-old TikTok sensation’s viral “Was it crispy?” moment was used by a brand without permission or payment. This incident sparks a crucial debate about creator rights and corporate ethics in the age of memes.

The digital landscape, for all its boundless creativity and spontaneous virality, is increasingly becoming a minefield for corporate entities eager to tap into its pulse.
What begins as an innocent, heartwarming moment shared online can, in the blink of an eye, transform into a contentious battleground over intellectual property, fairness, and the fundamental right to be compensated for one’s own image and words.
This is the stark reality now facing 86-year-old Annie Korzen, an accidental TikTok sensation, whose charming query, “Was it crispy?”, has inadvertently ignited a fiery debate about corporate ethics in the age of memes.
Korzen’s journey into online stardom began in 2021 with a simple, unscripted video.
In it, she innocently asks a cameraperson if they’ve ever had a Krispy Kreme doughnut, and upon confirmation, follows up with the now-iconic, almost philosophical, “Was it crispy?”
The candid exchange, devoid of any slick production or elaborate setup, resonated deeply with millions.
It was authentic, endearing, and undeniably viral.
Even Krispy Kreme itself acknowledged the clip’s charm, commenting on its “iconic” status.
This unexpected fame led Korzen to pen a book, “The Book of Annie,” detailing her life from a television acting career to her newfound digital influence, cementing her status as a genuine internet personality.
Fast forward to July 1st, and the innocence of that viral moment was abruptly shattered.
Maxibon ice cream in Australia, in a bid to promote a collaboration with Krispy Kreme, released a TikTok advertisement that prominently featured clips of Korzen’s original video.
The text overlay declared, “we kinda snapped with this one ngl,” a phrase dripping with the casual confidence of a brand believing it had perfectly captured the zeitgeist.
But beneath the veneer of trendy marketing lay a significant oversight, or perhaps, a calculated gamble: Maxibon had neither credited nor paid Korzen for the use of her image and words.
Korzen’s response was swift, yet remarkably composed.
On July 27th, she commented directly on Maxibon’s ad, stating simply, “I am not paid or credited with being in this ad. What’s up with that?”
Later, in an August 4th TikTok video on her own account, she elaborated, articulating her frustration with a calm dignity that belied the gravity of the situation.
“There is a collaboration between Maxibon and Krispy Kreme, and they have put up a video using me, using my image, using my words to sell their product,” she explained.
“I am not credited. I am not paid for it.”
Crucially, Korzen stressed that her aim was not to incite “bullying” or “harassment” of the brands, but rather to advocate for “fairness and credit and compensation and respect.”
Her caption underscored the point: “This isn’t just wrong—it’s likely illegal. I’m open to working with brands, but using my original content without credit or pay is unacceptable.”
This incident is not an isolated one; it’s a symptom of a larger, ongoing struggle within the digital realm.
Memes, by their very nature, are designed for replication and widespread sharing, leading many to believe they exist in a public domain, free for the taking.
However, when a brand, especially one with significant commercial interests, appropriates a meme that directly features an identifiable individual, the lines between fair use and intellectual property infringement become dangerously blurred.
Legal experts often advise that using a meme is acceptable only if it doesn’t interfere with the creator’s ability to monetize their content.
In Korzen’s case, a brand using her viral moment to sell a product without permission or payment undeniably interferes with her potential to earn from her own creation, setting a worrying precedent.
The legal landscape is slowly catching up to the rapid evolution of internet culture.
The “Success Kid” meme case in 2022 serves as a stark reminder: a jury found a political campaign liable for using the meme without permission, awarding the original photographer a minimum payment.
This precedent highlights that while memes circulate freely, their commercial exploitation without consent is a different matter entirely.
Brands, in their quest for “authenticity” and “relatability” by “snapping” with online trends, often overlook the fundamental rights of the creators who inadvertently provide them with viral gold.
This oversight isn’t just ethically questionable; it carries significant legal and reputational risks.
The public’s reaction to Maxibon’s actions has been swift and overwhelmingly supportive of Korzen.
Comment sections on both Maxibon’s ad and Korzen’s videos are awash with outrage and calls for justice.
“Get a lawyer and get your money,” one user advised.
Another insightfully pointed out, “An agency made that ad. They gambled on you not knowing you’re entitled to compensation.”
The sentiment is clear: consumers are increasingly aware of creator rights and are unwilling to tolerate what they perceive as corporate exploitation.
Threats of boycotts, such as “I’m glad I’ve never had a Maxibon, and never will until they CREDIT AND PAY ANNIE!!”, underscore the potential damage to a brand’s image when it fails to respect the very culture it attempts to leverage.
As of now, Maxibon, or its parent company Peters Australia, remains silent, having not responded to media inquiries.
This silence, in itself, speaks volumes.
It’s a testament to the ongoing power imbalance between large corporations and individual creators, but also a stark warning that the digital public is no longer a passive audience.
Annie Korzen’s gentle but firm stand has become a rallying cry for fairness in the chaotic, often uncredited, world of online content.
Her story serves as a crucial reminder that while the internet may feel like a free-for-all, the fundamental principles of respect, credit, and compensation must always apply, especially when corporate profits are on the line.
The question for brands now is not just “Was it crispy?”, but “Was it ethical?” and “Was it legal?”
The answer, in this case, appears to be a resounding “No.”