Living with Taryn started out fine. She was friendly, sociable, and seemed responsible. But over time, her true colors started to show. She had a knack for asking me to pick up expensive groceries—gourmet cheeses, exotic fruits, imported chocolates—with the promise of paying me back. Those payments, of course, never materialized. Every time I asked her about it, she’d brush it off with a breezy, “Oh, I totally forgot! I’ll get you next time.”
“Next time” never came.
The last straw was when she handed me a long, extravagant list for an upcoming party she was hosting. Premium wines, caviar, artisanal bread, the works. She handed me cash for “some” of it but made it clear she’d “owe me for the rest.” Knowing her pattern, I decided this was the perfect opportunity to teach her a lesson she wouldn’t forget.
—
I went shopping, but instead of picking up the luxurious items Taryn had requested, I bought budget alternatives that looked strikingly similar. For the premium wines, I grabbed cheap bottles with fancy labels. Instead of gourmet cheese, I bought pre-sliced sandwich cheese and carefully rewrapped it in wax paper. The “exotic fruits” were swapped for bruised, discounted produce, and the caviar was nothing more than a small jar of budget fish roe.
I spent hours re-packaging everything to make it look as upscale as possible. The wines were decanted into glass bottles, the cheeses were arranged artfully on a platter, and the fruits were polished to look shiny and fresh. Everything looked picture-perfect.
—
The night of Taryn’s party, I laid out the food as she requested, and she couldn’t stop gushing. “Oh my God, this looks amazing!” she exclaimed. Her guests arrived, impressed by the “spread,” and Taryn basked in the compliments, bragging about her refined tastes.
But as the night wore on, the truth started to unravel. One guest took a sip of the wine and wrinkled his nose. “This tastes… off,” he muttered. Another commented that the cheese seemed suspiciously waxy, while someone else found seeds in the “exotic fruits.” The final blow came when a guest enthusiastically tried the “caviar,” only to loudly declare, “This isn’t caviar. It’s cheap fish eggs!”
Taryn’s face turned red as she realized her “luxurious” spread was a total sham. She pulled me aside, her voice hissing with anger. “What the hell, Alex? What did you buy?”
I smiled sweetly. “Exactly what you asked for—well, close enough. I just didn’t think you’d notice since you never bother to pay me back.”
Her jaw dropped, but she couldn’t argue. She’d been caught.
—
After the party, Taryn sheepishly handed me the full amount she owed for past grocery runs. “I guess I deserved that,” she admitted, looking genuinely embarrassed. From then on, she started doing her own shopping and never asked me for another favor.
The lesson? If you can’t pay for the gourmet life, don’t expect someone else to foot the bill. And as for me, I learned that standing up for yourself can sometimes be as satisfying as the finest truffle cheese.
