I’ve waited tables at an upscale downtown restaurant for a decade, but nothing stunned me like the night Jack swaggered in with eight loud friends and expected his wife, Lora, to cover their $800 bill—again. They used to be sweet. Now Jack treated her like a walking wallet.
Lora arrived late, exhausted, and when the check came, she quietly refused to pay. Jack shoved it toward her anyway. She ran to the restroom in tears, venting on the phone about how she earned more than him yet paid for all his outings.
That was the last straw. I helped her come up with a plan: she’d pretend to get an urgent call and leave.
When she walked out, I told Jack his table was double-booked and he needed to clear out or take everything to-go. His friends bailed immediately. Jack was left alone—stunned, embarrassed, and stuck with the entire bill.
The next day, Lora returned, slipped me $100, and said I didn’t just save her money—I helped her find the courage to walk away for good.
