My Friends Laughed Because I Didn’t Order Food. Until The Bill Came And They Demanded That I…

“Exactly,” Marcus agreed.

“If they want to eat at expensive restaurants, they should pay out of their own pocket, not exploit colleagues.”

“You did the right thing, Emma,” said Brenda firmly.

“You had to establish boundaries.”

For the first time since Friday, I felt validated. My reaction hadn’t been exaggerated.

My boundary hadn’t been unfair. I had done the right thing.

We stayed later than planned, talking and laughing. When it came time to leave, the total bill was less than $40 for five people.

We split it equally—$8 each—and there was still enough left for a generous tip. Eight dollars for a whole night of genuine fun.

The Barbecue and the Birthday Trap

Throughout the following week, our new friendship solidified. Marcus created a WhatsApp group called “Rusty Crew,” and we started planning more casual outings.

A coffee after work here, a snack there; hallway conversations naturally extended. It was incredible how different it was to have friendships without financial pressure.

When we went out, everyone ordered what they wanted and could pay for. If someone was tight one month, the others understood and adjusted plans.

If someone wanted to spend more, they paid their own bill without involving others. But things with Sarah, Jessica, and Amanda were far from over.

On Wednesday, I received a message from Sarah on WhatsApp.

“Hi Emma. We’re going to have a barbecue at my sister’s house on Saturday. It’ll be very casual. Everyone brings something. How about it?”

I stared at the message in disbelief. After a week of total coldness, after spreading lies about me, now they wanted to include me again.

“Hi Sarah. Who else is going?” I replied, curious to understand the game.

“Oh, the usual group. About 15 people. We thought of you to bring the drinks. You have good taste for these things.”

The drinks for 15 people? At a Saturday long barbecue?

I did quick calculations in my head. At least $200 in beer, soda, water, and ice.

Maybe $300 if I wanted to guarantee enough variety. It was obvious what was happening.

They had given me the most expensive responsibility of the event. Probably after laughing among themselves about how I had saved money at dinner.

But this time, I knew exactly how to play their game.

“Sure, I’d love to help with the drinks. I’ll take care of everything,” I replied with fake enthusiasm.

Sarah must have been surprised by my positive reaction because she took a while to respond.

“That’s great. The party is at 2:00 in the afternoon. I’ll send you the address.”

I spent the rest of the week planning. I researched promotions at three different markets.

I found a clearance on sodas close to expiration—still good for consumption but with a 70% discount. I got beer on sale in an end-of-lot promotion.

I bought water in 5L jugs, which was much cheaper than individual bottles. In total, I spent $52—much less than they expected—and all known brands.

Nothing could be criticized. Saturday arrived, and I loaded my car with enough drinks for a small army.

My sister’s house was beautiful—a modern style construction with a large backyard pool and a complete gourmet area.

“Wow, Emma, you really went all out,” said Amanda when she saw me unloading the drinks.

There was something in her tone that I couldn’t identify. Sarah appeared wearing a summer dress that cost more than my weekly income.

“Such efficiency. Look at the variety you brought.”

Jessica approached to help organize everything on a side table.

“Very well thought out, separating by type. It looks super organized.”

The barbecue was really good. People brought elaborate salads, gourmet sides, and artisanal desserts.

My contribution of drinks seemed almost basic next to so much sophistication, but it was fulfilling its role. Everyone was drinking, laughing, and enjoying the sun.

I talked to some people I didn’t know, took photos, and participated in activities. On the outside, everything seemed normal.

But around 4:00 in the afternoon, I went to get my purse that I had forgotten in the car. And when I came back through the kitchen, I heard voices coming from the laundry room.

It was Sarah talking quietly with two other people.

“She really showed up after all that scene at the restaurant. And she still brought the cheapest drinks she could find.”

My blood froze. I stopped behind the door, heart racing.

A female voice I recognized as Sarah’s cousin responded.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on her?”

Jessica joined the conversation.

“Hard? She caused the biggest fuss last Friday. Left us in a super embarrassing situation, and today just proves that she can’t keep up with our level.”

Sarah continued.

“Look at the brands she brought. Everything as cheap as possible.”

Amanda entered the conversation.

“It’s not our fault if she can’t afford it. But if she accepts to participate, she has to take on the responsibilities.”

Sarah’s cousin seemed uncomfortable.

“But you know she earns much less.”

“So what?” Jessica cut in.

“Everyone has their priorities. If she prioritized participating in events instead of, I don’t know, what she could manage.”

“Exactly,” agreed Sarah.

“It’s a matter of choice. We choose to invest in our social life. She chooses to make drama.”

Choice. As if I chose to earn less.

As if I chose to struggle.

“The funny thing is that she still came after all the scandals she made,” continued Amanda.

“Some people really have no sense.”

I went back to the backyard with my mind boiling. They were all there, laughing and drinking my drinks, pretending normally.

Sarah waved when she saw me.

“Hey Emma, I was missing you. Come here. We were talking about next week’s projects.”

I forced a smile and joined the group. Throughout the afternoon, I observed every interaction with new eyes.

Every seemingly innocent comment now had a second layer of meaning.

“The drinks are great, Emma,” said Jessica, raising a beer can.

“You always make good choices.”

Was it a compliment or veiled sarcasm about my promotion research? When the barbecue was ending, I helped collect things, trying to keep up appearances until I could leave.

“Thanks for all the help, Emma,” said Amanda when I was saying goodbye.

“You’re a sweetheart.”

In the car driving home, I replayed the conversation I heard dozens of times in my head. Every word, every tone, and every justification they made.

They genuinely believed they were right—that I was the problem, that I made bad choices and then created drama. To them, I was the clueless person who didn’t know my place.

Monday arrived, and I went to work with completely different energy. I no longer had the anxiety of wanting to please or the insecurity of being judged.

I knew exactly where I stood now. During breakfast, Jessica approached my desk with that fake smile I now recognized perfectly.

“Hey Emma, the barbecue on Saturday was really nice, right? Amanda was commenting on how helpful you were with everything.”

“It was great, Jess. Thanks for including me,” I replied naturally.

“We were thinking about organizing a surprise birthday party for Sarah in two weeks. Would you be up for helping with the organization?”

There it was—the next test, the next game.

“Sure. It would be an honor. What did you have in mind?”

Jessica smiled with that expression I now knew was predatory.

“We were thinking about Azure, that new sophisticated restaurant downtown. Reservation for 12 people. You could be responsible for the decoration and cake.”

Azure. I knew it by name—a high-end restaurant where dishes cost between $80 and $120.

And they wanted me to fund decoration and cake for 12 people. That would easily be $300 or more.

“How awesome. When is it again?” I asked, maintaining enthusiasm.