Pets n Story

For years, my affluent in-laws had mastered the dine-and-dash: they’d conveniently “forget” their wallets at dinner to dodge their portion of the bill. They even assumed they could pull the same stunt on my mom, expecting her to be an easy target. However, they hadn’t counted on her having a plan of her own, and this time, their trick spectacularly backfired.

I grew up with strong family values—loyalty, honesty, and the belief that true character is shown by what you give, not what you have. Despite not being wealthy, my parents were always ready to help others and pay their fair share. Then I married Dan, and I got my first real glimpse into his family’s odd habits. They had every luxury money could buy—stunning homes, high-end cars, and vacations that looked like they belonged in magazines—but when it came time to pay at restaurants, they consistently managed to skip out on the bill.

I still remember one dinner when Dan’s parents disappeared midway through the meal, leaving behind a $300 charge, while his father theatrically excused himself with a phone call. Frustrated, I told Dan, “They did it again—your dad always claims an urgent call, and it’s always the same excuse about a forgotten wallet.” Dan just sighed; this was a long-standing family routine, complete with extravagant orders, pricey wines, and perfectly timed alibis. No one, neither friends nor business contacts, ever dared challenge them.

Then came an invitation: Dan mentioned that his mom was hosting a 60th birthday dinner at an upscale Italian restaurant downtown and insisted my mom attend. “She wants to get to know you better,” Dan explained, though I suspected it was a setup—my mother-in-law had never really cared to bond with my mom, and I sensed trouble immediately.

Dan and I had already planned a weekend getaway in Mexico, so when I called my mom to warn her about the in-laws’ tactics of ordering the most expensive items and disappearing at the bill, I was taken aback by her cheerful greeting: “Hi, sweetie! How are you?” I quickly explained their usual routine, but she just laughed and reassured me, “Oh, honey, don’t worry—I’ll handle it.”

Still, I couldn’t shake my worry, convinced she was walking into a trap. That night, as Dan and I stayed at a bed-and-breakfast three hours away, I anxiously kept checking my phone for any news from her. The next morning, I received a text: “Had a lovely evening. Call me when you get home.” My heart raced as I dialed her number.

Her tone was light and amused as she recounted the evening. Dan’s parents had arrived at the restaurant impeccably dressed—my mother-in-law even wore jewelry that could finance a small country—and they were seated at the best table. “They ordered everything on the menu,” she said in amazement. While they enjoyed exotic appetizers, uncorked expensive wines, and even a wagyu steak adorned with gold flakes, I cringed at the thought of the looming bill.

As expected, when the check arrived, calamity struck. My mother-in-law suddenly remembered she’d left her purse at home, while my father-in-law mumbled about retrieving his wallet from the car. One by one, they all vanished under the guise of urgent calls or forgotten duties, leaving my mom with a bill of over $1500. I nearly shouted into the phone, “Mom, you didn’t pay that, did you?”

Calmly, she explained that after ordering dessert—a chocolate soufflé and the priciest port—a waiter was called over to speak with the manager, Robbie. To my surprise, Robbie, an old friend from her teaching days, was both amused and willing to help. Together, they hatched a plan. Robbie called Dan’s family and politely informed them that they’d left without paying, warning that if they didn’t return to settle the bill, he would have to report it as a dine-and-dash. My mom even put the call on speakerphone so I could hear Dan’s father’s sputtered excuses, only for Robbie to reply, “We’ll be expecting you back shortly.”

Predictably, they returned red-faced and embarrassed—as if their designer pants were on fire. Robbie then added a 25 percent “inconvenience fee” to the bill, bringing the total to just over $2000. I sat there stunned before bursting into laughter, exclaiming, “Mom, you’re my hero.”

The next morning, my mother-in-law called to thank my mom for attending, making sure to remark, “Just so you know, we always pay our own way at family dinners. Always have.” The nerve! In the months that followed, whenever we dined with Dan’s family, my mother-in-law would loudly announce at the start of the meal, “Everyone, we’re paying separately tonight,” prompting knowing glances between the waiters, Dan, and me. My mom had not only thwarted their scheme but had also taught them an expensive lesson they wouldn’t soon forget.