For years, I’d been part of a close-knit college group of friends, eight of us in total. The dynamics were generally good, but there were always two individuals, Samantha and Arnold, who had a habit of freeloading off the rest of us.
Whenever we went out for meals, they would order the most expensive dishes and then conveniently “forget” their wallets, leaving the rest of us to pick up the tab.
Last weekend, Jason, one of the friends who often hosted our gatherings, reached out to invite me to a casual dinner. When I asked if Samantha and Arnold would be there, he responded curtly, “Just get over yourself and come for once. Stop being such a baby about it. We’re all tired of your complaints.”
His response irked me, but I decided to go. I figured if they wanted to play their usual game, I’d give them a lesson they wouldn’t forget.
I arrived at the restaurant, which had a cozy, intimate atmosphere. As the group gathered, everyone ordered their meals. Most people chose moderate options, spending around $40 each. Samantha and Arnold, true to form, ordered the most lavish dishes on the menu. Samantha picked a $200 seafood platter, and Arnold went for a top-shelf steak that was nearly as pricey.
When it was my turn to order, I made a point of seeming particularly indecisive and scrutinized the menu. The others were already eyeing my choices, anticipating what I might order. To their shock, I finally made my decision: I ordered a single appetizer — the most affordable option on the menu.
The appetizers were reasonably priced, so my total came to just $15. I noticed the puzzled looks from the group, especially from Samantha and Arnold, who were expecting me to order extravagantly like usual.
When the bill came, as predicted, Samantha and Arnold tried their usual trick. They claimed they couldn’t cover their share and turned to the rest of the group to pitch in. But this time, the rest of the group was different.
I took a deep breath and spoke up. “I’m not paying for their share. If they want to order high-end meals, they should be prepared to cover their own expenses.”
The room went silent. Samantha and Arnold exchanged uneasy glances. Jason, realizing the potential tension, tried to smooth things over, but I stood firm. “I’m serious. This isn’t fair to the rest of us who budget for these outings. If they can’t afford it, they shouldn’t order it.”
The discomfort was palpable. After some heated back-and-forth, Samantha and Arnold reluctantly paid for their own meals, albeit with grumbling and muttered complaints. The rest of the group paid their fair share, and the evening wrapped up in an awkward silence.
As I left the restaurant, I felt a mix of relief and satisfaction. I knew I’d stirred the pot, but sometimes, a little discomfort is necessary to drive home a point. The next day, Jason sent a group message, acknowledging that maybe we needed to rethink how we handled these situations.
Though the incident didn’t resolve all the issues, it did set a precedent. Samantha and Arnold became a lot more cautious about their spending, and while it didn’t erase all their freeloading habits, it made the group dynamics a little fairer. For me, it was a win — a chance to stand up for myself and assert that fairness and respect should be a given, not an exception.