Cecelia had reached her breaking point with two freeloading members of her tight-knit group. Initially refusing a dinner invite, a brilliant plan struck her mind. She agreed to join while her friends were unaware of the lesson she was about to teach them. What happened next left everyone speechless.
Hey, everyone! I’m Cecelia, and I’ve got a story for you that’s been a long time coming.
I’ve always been an overachiever. In school, I was that girl who wouldn’t settle for anything less than an A.
A girl sitting in her classroom | Source: Pexels
Now, at 27, I’m killing it as an accounts manager at a big firm in the city. My job pays well, and I’m proud of how far I’ve come.
But this story isn’t about my career; it’s about my friends.
We’re a group of eight who’ve been tight since college. We’ve been through thick and thin together, and I love them all… well, almost all of them. There are two people in our group who I just can’t seem to respect anymore: Samantha and Arnold.
Why? I’ll explain that later.
A group of friends singing songs | Source: Pexels
First, let me tell you about how I’ve always been there for my friends. Take Betty, for example. A few months ago, she called me in tears.
“Cecelia, I hate to ask, but I’m in a bind,” Betty sobbed over the phone. “My car broke down, and I need $200 for repairs. I won’t get paid until next week, and I can’t miss work. Could you…”
I cut her off before she could finish. “Of course, Betty. I’ll transfer the money right now. Pay me back when you can, okay?”
A woman talking on her phone | Source: Pexels
Betty was so grateful and true to her word. She paid me back as soon as she got her paycheck.
It’s moments like these that make our friendship so strong.
A few weeks later, Harry needed help moving. He called me on a Saturday morning, and he sounded stressed.
“Hey, Cecelia. My moving truck is here, but my friends who were supposed to help bailed on me. Any chance you’re free today?”
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
I laughed. “Harry, you know I can’t lift anything heavier than my laptop. But I’ll be there in 20 minutes with coffee and donuts for everyone. And I’ll help organize and unpack. Okay?”
“You’re a lifesaver, Cece. Thanks!”
That’s just how our group works. We’re there for each other, no questions asked.
But then there’s Samantha and Arnold. I’ve never been in a situation where they needed my help, but our experiences at group dinners have been… well, horrible is putting it mildly.
Women having lunch together | Source: Unsplash
No one in the group talks about it openly, but we’ve all noticed what these two are up to.
Picture this: we’re out for lunch, and everyone’s scanning the menu, looking for something tasty but reasonably priced. Then there’s Samantha and Arnold, zeroing in on the most expensive items.
After ordering, they’ll turn to whoever’s closest and start their sob story.
“Oh, work’s been so slow lately,” Samantha will sigh. “I don’t know how I’m going to make rent this month.”
A woman talking to her friend in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Arnold’s favorite line is, “Man, my student loans are killing me. I barely have enough for groceries.”
And then, when the bill comes, they’ll conveniently forget their wallets or claim they can only chip in a few bucks. The rest of us end up covering their extravagant meals.
They’ve pulled this stunt with everyone in the group, and I’ve had enough. I decided I wasn’t going to go out for dinner or lunch with Samantha and Arnold ever again.
I refuse to be used like this.
A close-up shot of a woman’s face | Source: Midjourney
So, last weekend, Jason called to invite me to a casual dinner with the group.
“Hey Cecelia, we’re thinking of grabbing dinner at that new place downtown on Friday. You in?” he asked cheerfully.
I bit my lip. “Who’s coming?”
“It’s just me, you, Betty, Harry, Samantha, and Arnold. Liz and Ben aren’t in town.”
I groaned inside. “Jason, I don’t think I can make it if Samantha and Arnold are going to be there.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line.
A man talking on the phone | Source: Pexels
“Come on, Cece. Don’t be like that. It’s just dinner.”
“It’s never just dinner with those two,” I retorted. “I’m tired of paying for their five-star meals while I eat a side salad.”
“Just get over yourself and come for once,” he snapped. “Stop being such a baby about it. We’re all tired of your complaints.”
I was about to decline again when an idea struck me. A slightly wicked, definitely petty, but oh-so-satisfying idea.
A woman talking to a friend on the phone | Source: Midjourney
“You know what? I’ll be there,” I said, trying to keep the mischief out of my voice.
“Really?” Jason sounded surprised but pleased. “Great! I’ll see you Friday at 7.”
As I hung up, I couldn’t help but smile. This was going to be interesting.
Friday night rolled around, and I arrived at the restaurant right on time. Everyone was already there, chatting and laughing.
I slid into the booth next to Betty, across from Samantha and Arnold.
Friends talking in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“Cecelia!” Samantha cooed. “So glad you could make it. Isn’t this place fabulous?”
I forced a smile. “It’s lovely.”
The waiter came to take our orders. Most of the group ordered reasonably priced meals, around $25 each. Then it was Samantha and Arnold’s turn.
“I’ll have the Wagyu steak, medium-rare,” Samantha purred. “And a glass of the 2015 Cabernet, please.”
Arnold nodded approvingly. “Make that two, and add the lobster tail to mine.”
I could see Jason’s eyes widen slightly. Their orders were easily $150 each.
A man sitting in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
When it was my turn, everyone was looking at me. Here’s the catch: I just pointed to a $3 iced tea on the menu and sent the waiter away.
Jason looked at me, confused. “Aren’t you hungry, Cecelia?”
I shrugged. “Lost my appetite, I guess.”
Betty and Harry exchanged glances, then quickly changed their orders to just drinks as well.
We chatted about work and life while waiting for the food. Soon, the waiter arrived with the meals.
A serving of steak with vegetables | Source: Pexels
Samantha and Arnold’s plates looked like something out of a food magazine. Perfectly seared steaks, glistening lobster tails, and colorful vegetable garnishes.
“Oh my,” Samantha said, eyeing her plate. “This steak looks a bit overdone. And is this asparagus? I’m not a fan.”
Arnold nodded in agreement. “The lobster seems a bit small. I hope it’s worth the price.”
I caught Betty rolling her eyes and had to stifle a laugh.
Meanwhile, Jason said, “Well, my burger is great! How’s your drink, Cecelia?”
A man sitting beside his friend in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
I grinned. “Delicious. Best $3 I’ve ever spent.”
As the meal wound down, the waiter brought over the check. Arnold grabbed it and announced, “Okay, let’s split this six ways, shall we?”
That was my cue. I stood up and smiled sweetly at the waiter.
“Actually, we’ll be splitting this three ways. Jason, Samantha, and Arnold had meals. The rest of us just had drinks, which we’ve already paid for at the bar.”
Everyone was stunned.
Silence.
A woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Then, I saw Arnold squint his eyes in confusion and widen them as he understood what would happen next. His face flushed red in anger.
“But… but we always split the bill,” he sputtered.
I shook my head. “Not tonight. It wouldn’t be fair for us to pay for meals we didn’t eat, would it?”
Samantha tried to argue. “Cecelia, don’t be ridiculous. We’re all friends here.”
“Exactly,” I replied. “And friends don’t take advantage of each other.”
A woman talking to her friend | Source: Midjourney
In the end, they couldn’t argue with my logic.
Jason, who had only ordered a $35 meal, ended up with a $115 bill. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he saw that receipt.
I slid a $5 bill toward the center of the table for the tip, said my goodbyes, and walked out feeling lighter than I had in months.
The next morning, my phone was buzzing with messages. Samantha and Arnold were livid, calling me mean and blaming me for their high bill.
A woman using her phone | Source: Midjourney
I couldn’t help but laugh. Their steaks alone cost more than what they ended up paying!
Meanwhile, Jason’s messages were a mix of frustration and begrudging respect.
“You could have just not come instead of pulling that stunt,” he wrote. “But I get why you did it. Maybe it’s time we had a group talk about dinner etiquette.”
I felt a twinge of guilt about Jason’s bill, but I knew this had been a long time coming.
A restaurant bill | Source: Midjourney
Sometimes, you have to stand up for yourself, even if it means rocking the boat a little.
As for Samantha and Arnold? I’m hoping they learned their lesson, but only time will tell.
One thing’s for sure, I won’t be joining any group dinners with them anytime soon. Unless, of course, separate checks are agreed upon in advance!
Do you think I did the right thing?
A woman standing in a house | Source: Midjourney
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: Excitement for their weekend getaway turned into frustration as Sarah’s friends dodged paying their share of the $2,000 cabin rental. Little did they know, she had a plan to make sure they didn’t get away with it.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
Here’s Why I Refused to Take Care of My Mother with Disability– Story of the Day
My mother had a clear favorite her entire life, while I was raised by my grandparents mostly. When she got old and sick, I helped financially but refused to do more than that for a crucial reason.
While most good parents would tell you that they don’t have a favorite, my mother was not ashamed to tell me that my brother, Stanley, was her golden boy. My father walked out of our family because caring for two children became too much.
In the end, my mother blamed me for it. “He wouldn’t have left if I hadn’t gotten pregnant with you,” she told me one day. I was just a child at the time and only wanted my mother’s love.
“But that’s not my fault,” I replied. “I didn’t ask to be born.”
“Don’t talk back to me! I’m the parent, and you’re the kid, so shut up,” she finished. We would have similar conversations through the years whenever she was mad at me. Finally, my mother sent me to live with my paternal grandparents.
They felt so bad that our father had walked away from our lives that they took me in and gave me all the love I never received at home. That’s how I learned that the word family has lots of meanings.
All I heard about my mother and brother over the years was that she helped him with everything. He got into some trouble with the police, and my mother paid all his legal fees. Eventually, she had to sell her house and pay for his apartment.
Stanley was spoiled and couldn’t hold down a job, but my mother coddled him. Meanwhile, my grandparents didn’t have much money, but they gave me everything they could. I had to work to afford my college and my home.
I learned a whole ton of responsibility, and when I graduated, I got a pretty decent job. That’s where I met my husband, Lawrence. We had two daughters whom I cherished equally. When my grandparents got sick, I was there for them until the very end.
They gave me their house, and one of my daughters moved there when she got married. Unfortunately, my husband died shortly after her wedding. She asked me to live with her, but I wanted to stay in our home.
I didn’t hear from my brother or my mother for many years. They didn’t care about me at all, so why should I care about them? But one day, Stanley called. “Hello?” I answered the phone.
“Hey, Brooke. It’s Stanley. How are you?” my brother said through the other line.
“Oh, hey, Stanley. Long time, no speak. I’m fine. How about you?” I replied.
“Yeah, it’s been a while. Listen, I’m calling because Mom broke her hip. I need your help,” Stanley continued.
“Oh, that’s too bad. Is she ok?” I asked.
“She’s fine. It’s just that the hospital bill will be pretty expensive, and I need help paying for it. She’s our mother after all,” he explained.
“Oh, well. Ok. Give me the details, and I’ll send some money,” I told him. My husband and I had accumulated decent savings, so I could afford to send Stanley some money for whatever our mother needed.
“That’s great, Brooke. Thank you. I’ll talk to you later,” Stanley said and hung up. I didn’t feel any obligation to my mother, but I wasn’t heartless. I sent him the money and forgot about it until a week later when my brother called again.
“Hey, Brooke!” Stanley started.
“Hey. How did everything go?” I asked.
“The operation for her hip went well, but the doctor just told me she’s going to need tons of rehab and round-the-clock care. I was wondering when you could come to pick her up?” my brother asked.
“What do you mean pick her up?” I probed, confused.
“I told you. She needs someone to take care of her. I’ve been by her side our whole lives. It’s time you take responsibility, Brooke. I can’t watch her,” Stanley added.
“Excuse me? Responsibility? Mom sent me to live with our grandparents because she hated me, and you were her golden boy. She essentially abandoned me,” I snapped.
“Please. Stop the melodrama. You need to step up because she needs you. She gave you life. You owe her,” Stanley demanded.
“No. I don’t owe her anything. I needed my mother when I was growing up, and she refused. She gave all her love to you, so you will need to figure out something. I gave you money for her hospital bills out of the goodness of my heart, but I won’t be her caretaker,” I told him.
“YOU’RE HORRIBLE, BROOKE! HOW CAN YOU DO THIS? I CAN’T WATCH HER!” Stanley started screaming through the phone.
“Honestly, I don’t care, Stanley. You don’t get to call me horrible. I was a kid when she abandoned me, and my grandparents became my REAL PARENTS. Don’t call me again!” I finished and hung up the call.
Stanley tried calling, texting, e-mailing, and more for several days, but I blocked him. He also tried contacting my daughters, but they refused to listen to him. They knew my history with that side of the family.
Of course, Stanley and my mother bad-mouthed me to anyone who would listen. I have been severely judged for my decision, but I didn’t listen to their criticism. After all, no one ever judged my mother for what she did to me.
What can we learn from this story?
- Caring for your loved ones is important. While Brooke’s choice is controversial, it’s easy to understand her point of view, given her background.
- Forgiveness is divine. Sometimes, you have to be the bigger person. Caring for your parents when they’re old is a big duty, both financially and emotionally. Someone has to do it.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
If you enjoyed this story, you might like this one about a mother who left her disabled daughter at an orphanage.
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