When Marla started a new job, she just wanted to join her colleagues and enjoy fitting into a team. As per their tradition, the team goes out for a weekly Friday lunch, which ends with an even split of the bill. But there’s one problem: Marla is paid less and cannot afford these lavish lunches. So, she teaches her teammates a lesson.
When I started working at my new job, I really wanted to get along with my coworkers. I was in a new place, and I knew that building good relationships with the people I’d be working with every day was important.
They already had their own routines, and when they asked me to join them, I didn’t want to say no. One of their regular habits was going out for lunch every Friday, and I didn’t want to be the only one not joining in.
But there was a problem.
My coworkers were making a lot more money than I was. They had been at the company for a long time and were earning high salaries, while I had just started and was barely getting by. My beginner’s pay had to cover everything—my student loans, my bills, and my rent.
Those were things my coworkers didn’t have to worry about anymore.
Still, every Friday, without fail, we went to these fancy restaurants where the cost of the meals got higher each week.
And every single time, they wanted to split the bill evenly. At first, I tried not to let it bother me. I told myself, “It’s only lunch, right?” But over time, I could feel that my money was disappearing faster than it should have.
Here’s something important: I’m a vegetarian. I usually order simple food that’s tasty and light. My meals are often salads or small dishes. But two of my coworkers, Derek and Tasha, always picked the most expensive meat options on the menu.
They ordered ribs, steak—whatever cost the most. Their meals often went over $60 each. And yet, each week, we still divided the bill equally. My $15 salad became a $35 lunch because of them.
They had enough money to afford it, so I understood why they liked to treat themselves. At first, I didn’t say anything. I thought it was just part of fitting into the team, and I didn’t want to cause any problems as the new person.
But after a few months, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was spending almost half of my weekly grocery money on these lunches, and no one seemed to notice. They would laugh, talk about their weekend plans, and toss their credit cards on the table when the check came—without even checking the amount.
“Marla,” my mom said seriously when she came to visit, carrying bags full of food for me. “You need to stand up for yourself. Do you really want to waste your money on one meal and then struggle for the rest of the month?”
“No, Mom,” I said as I grabbed a donut she had brought for tea. “But I don’t want to make things difficult since I’m still new.”
“How would you be making things difficult, Marla?” she asked. “There are just some things you can’t do because your money is tight. They were in your position once, too.”
I nodded, not wanting to make her upset by telling her I had stayed quiet about it for so long.
One Friday, after another lunch where I paid for food I hadn’t eaten, I finally found the courage to speak up.
“Hey, everyone, I was thinking,” I said casually as we waited for the check. “Maybe we could each pay for what we ordered? I’m not really eating as much as you guys, and it might be more fair.”
Derek laughed and shook his head.
“Separate bills? Come on, Marla, don’t be silly. This way is easier.”
Tasha gave me a smirk while she finished her dessert.
“Yeah, we’re not going broke here. We’re all grown-ups, right? Just split it like always, Derek.”
I held my tongue. I wanted to tell them that, actually, I was struggling. But instead, I just smiled and nodded.
“Sure. No problem,” I said.
But inside, I was angry. It wasn’t only about the money. It was how they brushed off my concern like it didn’t matter. Like my opinion wasn’t important. As if I should be lucky just to sit at the table with them.
I knew arguing wouldn’t work. So I decided to change how I handled things. If they wanted to keep splitting the bill evenly, I would join in—but I’d make sure it worked for me.
The next week at lunch, I didn’t just get my usual warm veggie and couscous salad. Instead, I ordered two starters. One for me, and one “for the table.” As always, they happily ate the mozzarella sticks without thinking.
The following Friday, I went even further. I ordered two starters and two main dishes.
More mozzarella sticks and some crumbed mushrooms. Then lasagna and a four-cheese pizza. When the food arrived, I asked the waiter to pack the pizza to-go before anyone could touch it. Nobody said anything. Or if they noticed, they didn’t speak up.
By the third week, things started to change. We sat down at our regular restaurant. I ordered two starters, two mains, and this time, a dessert too. There was a pricey vegan cheesecake on the menu, and I wanted to push it further.
“You don’t usually eat this much, Marla,” Derek said, looking confused.
“I guess I’m just hungrier these days. Must be the stress from the job.”
When the food came, I asked the server to box up one main dish and one appetizer right away. This time, Tasha raised an eyebrow as she saw the waiter give me a nicely packed to-go container.
“Wait, are you seriously taking food home now?” she asked, clearly annoyed.
Derek gave me a sharp look but stayed quiet when the check came. I noticed the tension as everyone looked at the total. My part of the meal had gone over $40, and because we were splitting it, everyone else had to pay nearly $30.
When they realized what I had done, I almost laughed.
Derek slammed his card on the table, sounding annoyed.
“Are you serious, Marla? You’ve been ordering all this stuff and taking it home? And we’re all paying for it? We didn’t even eat it! What’s going on with you?”
“I’m just following the rules we’ve always had. We split everything evenly, remember? I thought it was time I got something extra, too.”
Tasha crossed her arms and frowned.
“This isn’t some takeout service, Marla. It’s supposed to be about team bonding.”
“Yeah, but I’ve been paying for your food for weeks. Now I’m just doing what you did.”
They didn’t say anything because they couldn’t argue with the truth. They paid the check, each of them clearly upset as they tapped their cards.
By the fourth week, I knew things were different. As we sat down in our usual booth, Derek cleared his throat, sounding unsure.
“Hey, maybe we should, um, start doing separate checks from now on?”
Tasha nodded quickly.
“Yeah, it’ll probably be easier. Especially since we all order different stuff.”
I didn’t bother hiding my smile.
“That sounds fair to me,” I said.
That day, I only ordered one starter and one main dish. Simple, just like I used to. When the food came, I offered to share—just like they used to do with their big meat plates.
“Anyone want to try my halloumi sticks?” I asked.
Derek and Tasha both shook their heads, and I could tell they were annoyed. They weren’t going to touch my food, because now they knew they’d have to pay for it.
After that, things changed completely. The team gave up the idea of splitting the bill evenly. They hadn’t realized how much extra they were spending until then.
And me?
I finally got to enjoy my lunch without stress. I only paid for what I actually ate, and I could stay within my budget. Soon, I’m going to ask for a raise, and maybe then I won’t have to think so much about money.
But for now, I’m happy with my salads and green tea.
