The Dinner Payback That No One Saw Coming
Hi there! I’m Cecelia, and this story? Let’s just say it was long overdue.
If you’ve ever been taken advantage of by people you once trusted, then you’ll understand exactly how I felt. I’ve always been the kind of person who gives 110%—in school, in work, and especially in my friendships.
I don’t like drama, but I do believe in fairness. And two of my so-called friends had been crossing the line for way too long.
Let me explain.
I’m 27 years old now, working as an accounts manager at a big firm in the city. I’ve worked hard to get here, and I’m proud of it. But this story? It’s not about my career. It’s about a group of friends I’ve had since college.
There are eight of us in total. We’ve shared everything—breakups, jobs, birthdays, even vacations. I love this group… well, almost all of it.
Because two of them? Samantha and Arnold? Yeah, they’ve turned into freeloading leeches.
Now don’t get me wrong—when a friend’s struggling, I’m always the first one there.
Like that time when Betty called me in tears.
“Cecelia,” she cried over the phone, “I hate asking, but my car broke down and I need $200 to fix it. I won’t get paid till next week. I just— I can’t miss work.”
Before she even finished, I said, “Betty, don’t even worry. I’m sending it now. Just pay me back when you can, okay?”
She was so thankful. And true to her word, she paid me back a week later.
Then there was Harry. He called me early one Saturday morning, sounding frantic.
“Cece, the moving truck’s already here, but the people who said they’d help just bailed. Is there any chance you’re free?”
I laughed. “You know I can’t lift anything heavier than my handbag, but I’ll be there in 20 minutes—with coffee and donuts. I’ll help you unpack.”
“You’re a legend,” he said, already sounding calmer.
See, that’s what real friendship looks like. We help each other. No games, no guilt.
But Samantha and Arnold?
Oh, they’ve got their own little trick.
Whenever we go out to eat as a group, they magically transform into broke royalty. Everyone else orders something modest. But not them.
Samantha always scans the menu like she’s a food critic and says things like, “I deserve something nice after the week I’ve had,” before ordering the most expensive thing on the list. Then Arnold will sigh deeply and mutter, “These student loans are killing me, man. But you only live once, right?” as he adds a lobster tail and a glass of expensive wine.
And when the bill comes? Surprise! Samantha “forgot” her wallet again. Arnold will dig around in his pockets and go, “I only brought $10… sorry.”
And then the rest of us? We’re left picking up their bill.
They’ve done it again and again. And no one talks about it directly. Everyone just groans silently and forks over the money. But I’d had it.
So when Jason called last week to invite me to a group dinner, I was already shaking my head.
“Hey, Cecelia! We’re going to try that new spot downtown Friday night. You in?”
“Who’s coming?” I asked, already bracing myself.
“Just me, you, Betty, Harry, Samantha, and Arnold. Liz and Ben are out of town.”
I sighed. “Jason, I really don’t want to come if Samantha and Arnold are going to be there.”
There was a long pause. Then Jason said sharply, “Oh come on, Cece. Don’t start. It’s just dinner.”
“No,” I said, feeling the heat rise in my chest. “It’s never just dinner with them. I’m tired of paying for their steak and wine while I get a side salad and tap water.”
He snapped, “Stop being a baby about it. We’re all tired of your complaining.”
That stung. I almost hung up right there. But then… an idea hit me. A brilliant, mischievous little plan.
“You know what? I’ll come,” I said, keeping my voice calm.
Jason sounded surprised. “Really? Great! Friday at 7.”
He had no idea what was coming.
Friday night came. I dressed simply, nothing flashy. I wanted to fly under the radar. When I arrived, everyone was already at the table, chatting and laughing. I slid into the booth beside Betty.
Samantha beamed at me. “Cecelia! So glad you came! Isn’t this place gorgeous?”
I gave her a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s nice.”
The waiter came to take our orders. Most of the group chose meals under $30. Then Samantha spoke.
“I’ll have the Wagyu steak,” she said sweetly. “Medium-rare. And the 2015 Cabernet.”
Arnold added, “Make that two. And throw in the lobster tail. Gotta treat myself.”
Jason raised an eyebrow at their $150 meals but said nothing.
Then it was my turn. I handed the menu back and smiled.
“I’ll just have the iced tea. Thanks.”
Jason blinked. “You’re not eating?”
“Not hungry,” I said. “Just here to catch up.”
Betty caught on quick. “Actually, I’ll change mine to just a soda.”
Harry followed her lead. “Same here. I’ll grab something later.”
The table got quiet, but no one said anything.
The food came out, and oh—Samantha and Arnold’s plates looked like a five-star chef’s dream. Glazed vegetables, buttery lobster, and thick, juicy steak.
Samantha sniffed. “Hmm. This steak looks overcooked.”
Arnold frowned. “And the lobster’s kinda small. For that price? Eh.”
Betty muttered, “Unbelievable,” under her breath.
We all sat chatting as they slowly polished off every bite. Then, the check came.
Arnold snatched it up and smiled. “Alright! Let’s split this six ways!”
I stood up calmly, placed my napkin on the table, and looked directly at the waiter.
“We’ll actually be splitting it three ways,” I said with a polite smile. “Jason, Samantha, and Arnold ordered food. The rest of us just had drinks, which we paid for at the bar.”
Boom. Silence.
Arnold looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Wait—what? We always split!”
“Not tonight,” I said. “We didn’t eat your $300 dinner, so we’re not paying for it.”
Samantha looked shocked. “Cecelia, don’t be ridiculous. We’re friends.”
“Exactly,” I replied coolly. “And friends don’t use each other.”
Jason looked like he wanted to melt into the floor. His burger had cost $35. Now he was stuck with over $100 to cover from their orders.
I tossed a $5 bill on the table for the tip and said, “Have a good night.”
Then I walked out, feeling free—like I had just taken off a heavy backpack I’d been carrying for years.
The next morning? My phone exploded.
Samantha texted: “Wow. That was seriously mean. What kind of friend humiliates people like that?”
Arnold added: “You made us look stupid, and we STILL had to pay a ton. Thanks a lot.”
I actually laughed. Their wine alone cost more than what they paid. Welcome to consequences.
Jason messaged me too. His was a mix of guilt and realization.
“You didn’t have to come just to make a point. But… maybe we do need to talk about how we handle dinners.”
And you know what? He’s right.
Sometimes, standing up for yourself means making people uncomfortable. It means not staying silent anymore. It means saying, “Enough.”
As for Samantha and Arnold? I hope they learned something.
But until I hear the words “separate checks,” I won’t be dining with them again.
Not sorry. Not even a little.