My sweet grandmother wanted nothing more than a quiet birthday dinner at her favorite diner. At 85 years young, she deserved to celebrate however she pleased. But our family had other plans – plans that involved turning her special day into their personal gourmet feast at the most expensive steakhouse in town.
I should have known something was up when I overheard my cousins whispering about how I’d “naturally” cover the bill since I “had no kids” and “worked at a bank.” Their scheme became painfully clear as they ordered bottle after bottle of wine, premium steaks, and every appetizer on the menu – all while Grandma happily nibbled on her modest meal.
When the $800 check arrived, the performance began. Suddenly everyone had financial emergencies – except for the gold watches and designer bags I saw them flaunting. The real kicker? They actually left Grandma alone at the table when they “went to get the car,” abandoning her like yesterday’s leftovers.
Little did they know I’d recognized the restaurant manager as my old college friend. While they snuck out the back, I made sure their contact information was properly recorded. The look on their faces when collection notices started arriving? Priceless.
Grandma still got her special birthday – complete with a complimentary dessert and staff serenade after the others left. And next year? We’re having a lovely, peaceful dinner – just the two of us.
