My Husband Took Me To A Luxury Steakhouse For Our 10th Anniversary. When The Waiter Came, He Ordered A $100 Meal For Himself But Told Me I Couldn’t Eat Because I Was Unemployed And Broke. Then A Couple At The Next Table Handed Me A Mysterious Business Card.
The Anniversary Dinner Humiliation
When the waiter asked for my order at our anniversary dinner, my husband said, “She’s not eating. She didn’t contribute to the bill. I’ll have water.”
I said to the confused waiter while my husband, Paul, handed back my menu to him without letting me look at it. We were at the steakhouse he’d picked for our 10th anniversary, and he’d made reservations without telling me there would be conditions attached.
The waiter stood there awkward, holding his pad. “Ma’am, would you like to see the menu?”
Paul answered for me. “She’s fine. I’ll have the ribeye, medium rare, with loaded potato.”
He ordered a $100 meal while telling me I couldn’t eat. “Sir, is the lady not dining?”
The waiter looked concerned. Paul smiled like this was normal. “She didn’t bring any money, so she doesn’t get to order. That’s how restaurants work, right? You pay, you eat.”
He said it loud enough for nearby tables to hear. An older couple looked over, shocked. “Paul, please, it’s our anniversary.”
He laughed and showed the waiter his phone. “Look at our bank accounts. Hers has $14; mine has 12,000.”
He’d separated our finances 6 months ago without discussing it. “She wants to be independent so she can independently pay for her own meals.”
The waiter shifted, uncomfortable. “I could bring some bread for the table.”
Paul shook his head. “Bread is for customers. She’s just sitting here.”
He turned to me. “You should have thought about dinner before you quit your job.”
I’d been laid off, not quit, but Paul had been telling everyone I chose to be unemployed. “I was laid off, Paul. The company downsized.”
He waved his hand, dismissive. “Successful people don’t get laid off. You weren’t valuable enough to keep.”
Public Spectacle
The couple next to us was openly staring now. The woman looked horrified. Paul noticed and spoke louder. “I’m teaching her about consequences. No contribution means no consumption.”
He pulled out cash and fanned it on the table. “See this? This is what work looks like.”
The waiter tried again. “Perhaps a small salad?”
Paul grabbed the money back. “Did you not understand? She has no money means she gets no food. It’s simple economics.”
He looked at me. “Maybe being hungry will motivate you to find work faster.”
I’d applied to 40 jobs that week. “You told me not to take the retail position because it was beneath us.”
Paul laughed, harsh. “That was before I realized you’re professionally worthless. Now any job would be an improvement.”
The woman from the next table walked over. “Excuse me, miss, would you like to join us? We have an extra seat.”
Paul stood up, angry. “She’s my wife. She sits with me.”
The woman looked at him, disgusted. “You’re starving your wife in public.”
Paul pulled out his phone again. “I’m teaching financial responsibility.”
He showed her something on the screen. “This is her spending from last month: $60 on groceries.”
The woman looked confused. “She bought food for your home.”
Paul nodded. “With my money. Then she has the audacity to say she’s broke.”
He turned back to me. “You spent my grocery money, so now you can watch me eat.”
The waiter left to get the manager. Paul didn’t notice because he was pulling up more bank records. “Look: January, she spent $30 on gas. February, $40 on medication.”
He showed everyone around us all my money. “But now suddenly she needs dinner.”
My medication was for anxiety, which had gotten worse since Paul became like this. That was when we shared accounts. “Paul, you said household expenses were both our responsibility.”
He sat back down. “That was before you became a financial burden.”
