My in-laws are the kind of rich people who treat generosity like a performance—one that ends the moment the check arrives. For years, they had this infuriating little routine: they’d invite us out to these lavish dinners—think five-star steakhouses, rooftop sushi bars, places with $20 cocktails and gold-flaked desserts—and then, without fail, suddenly “forget” their wallets. Every single time.
At first, my husband and I thought it was an honest mistake. Once, maybe twice—we covered the bill, no big deal. But it kept happening. Over and over again. A $300 tab here, a $450 one there. Once, we paid nearly $700 for a dinner we didn’t even choose. It became painfully clear: they weren’t forgetting anything. They were freeloading. And we were the suckers footing the bill.
We started avoiding dinners with them unless it was absolutely unavoidable. But then one weekend, while my husband and I were out of town, they decided to invite *my* mom to a luxurious birthday dinner. High-end seafood place, custom wine pairings—the whole nine yards. When I found out, I immediately warned her. I told her how they operate, how they always find some excuse to vanish right before the check comes.
She just smiled and said, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’ve got this.”
Apparently, they didn’t hold back. They ordered wagyu steaks, multiple bottles of wine, caviar, and that ridiculous dessert they light on fire. When the meal was winding down, the familiar routine began. One had to “run to the car,” another had an “urgent call,” someone else suddenly had to deal with a “babysitter emergency.” One by one, they slipped away, leaving my mom at the table alone with a bill north of $1,500.
But my mom? She didn’t flinch.
Instead, she calmly asked to see the manager—who, as fate would have it, was one of her former students from when she was a high school teacher. She explained the situation, and he was more than happy to help. He dialed my in-laws right then and there, put the call on speakerphone, and informed them, quite sternly, that if they didn’t return to settle their tab immediately, the restaurant would be filing a police report for dine-and-dash.
You better believe they came sprinting back—furious, embarrassed, trying to save face. And the manager? Oh, he was just getting started. He slapped a 25% “inconvenience fee” on top of the bill for wasting his staff’s time. My mom didn’t pay a dime.
Best part? Ever since that night, my mother-in-law has a new motto anytime we go out to eat: “We’re all paying separately!” She says it loudly. Repeatedly. Like a chant.
Lesson *definitely* learned.