Every time we went out for breakfast or lunch, it was the same routine. She’d pat her pockets, sigh dramatically, and say, “Ugh, I left my wallet at home.” At first I didn’t mind covering. We’re coworkers. Friends, even.

But after the third or fourth time, it got old. Especially since she never offered to grab the next one or pay me back on time. I’d have to Venmo request her—sometimes more than once—and half the time, she’d pay me back weeks later. A couple times? I forgot altogether. She didn’t remind me. Of course.

This morning she asked, all cheerful, if I wanted to grab pancakes at that diner near the office. My stomach said yes, but my patience said hell no.

So I grabbed my wallet, slid it into my bag, and we went. Sat down, ordered, and just as the check came—surprise—she gasped. “Oh no! I left my wallet in my desk again!”

And I said, “Oh, no! I actually forgot mine too.”

Her face froze. I could almost hear her brain buffering.

She stared at the check. Then at me. Then said, “So… what do we do?”

I shrugged and said, “Guess one of us has to go get a wallet.”

And then I just sipped my coffee like I had all the time in the world.

She blinked. “Well… my desk is locked. I don’t have my keys.”

“Oh, that’s unfortunate,” I said. “My bag’s upstairs too, but I left it in the break room.”

That part wasn’t even a lie. I’d planned ahead. I’d stashed my bag safely back at the office just in case she tried anything slick. I wanted to see what she’d do when her little trick didn’t work.

She gave this tight little laugh, like we were sharing a joke, but I could see the panic creeping in behind her eyes.

“Well, I guess we could wash dishes,” she said, trying to be funny.

“Guess so,” I replied.

I don’t think she expected me to stay so calm.

She fiddled with her napkin, glancing around the diner like she was hoping someone else might offer to step in and save her. But the place was busy, and everyone was minding their own business.

“I’ll just… run to the office real quick,” she mumbled, finally grabbing her coat. “Be right back.”

I nodded. “Take your time.”

She came back fifteen minutes later, wallet in hand, cheeks red like a tomato.

Paid the bill, barely looked at me the rest of the walk back.

Now, you’d think that would’ve been the end of it, right?

A lesson learned. But oh no—some people don’t learn unless the universe throws the whole book at them.

The next week, we had a team lunch. Our manager, Linda, had just gotten back from maternity leave, and it was supposed to be a small welcome-back thing. The whole floor was invited—just sandwiches and cake in the conference room.

As we were all grabbing plates, my coworker—let’s call her Tasha—was going around telling everyone she’d “organized the whole thing.”

She hadn’t.

That had been me and another coworker, Ben. We’d stayed late the night before to order the food, decorate the room, even set up a slideshow with baby pictures Linda had emailed us.

But Tasha?

She popped in at the last minute with a balloon and suddenly acted like the hostess.

At first, I was too stunned to say anything. Then Linda looked at her and said, “Thank you so much, Tasha. This means a lot.”

Tasha beamed like she’d won Employee of the Month.

I don’t know what got into me. Maybe it was the pancakes. Maybe it was all the little things over the past few months. But I leaned over to Ben and whispered, “Let’s just let her have this one—for now.”

Ben raised an eyebrow but nodded.

That night, we submitted our expense forms. I included receipts for the food, decorations, and even the silly little slideshow app we’d paid $6.99 to download.

Tasha?

She submitted a $45 receipt—for a balloon bouquet.

Then she had the audacity to ask HR if she could get reimbursed “as the lead on the event.”

Well, that didn’t sit right with me.

So I emailed HR. Politely. Just to clarify who had actually been in charge of the event planning and provided the main receipts.

I CC’d Ben.

And wouldn’t you know it—HR pulled her expense report, flagged it, and sent an email to our manager.

A day later, Linda pulled me aside.

“She tried to take credit for your work,” she said, frowning. “And tried to get reimbursed for items that weren’t even approved.”

I shrugged. “She probably just got carried away.”

Linda smiled. “Well, we’ll take care of it. But thank you for speaking up.”

Tasha didn’t talk to me for the rest of the week. And honestly, it was kind of peaceful.

Now here’s where it takes a turn I didn’t expect.

The following month, we had our mid-year reviews. Nothing dramatic—just a check-in with management about performance and goals.

I was sitting across from Linda, expecting the usual “keep it up, you’re doing great” chat.

But instead, she said, “We’re moving you onto the events and culture committee. I think you’d be a great fit. Organized, thoughtful, fair.”

I blinked. “Really?”

She nodded. “And we’d like to give you a small bonus for your efforts last quarter. I know it wasn’t part of your role, but you handled things with grace.”

I left that meeting stunned. All I’d done was tell the truth and keep my cool.

Tasha, on the other hand, didn’t get such good news.

I heard through the grapevine that her expense reimbursements were put on hold indefinitely, and she was asked to attend a “professional conduct workshop.” Which, from what I gather, is HR speak for “stop scamming your coworkers.”

She started eating alone after that.

I felt bad—kind of.

But here’s the thing: it wasn’t just about money. Or even credit. It was about respect.

When someone keeps taking without giving, without acknowledging, without learning, they stop being a friend. They become a drain.

It’s not about being petty. It’s about drawing the line.

The real twist? A couple weeks later, she quietly handed me an envelope. No words, just slid it across my desk and walked away.

Inside were receipts. Ones I’d long forgotten about. Old coffee runs. That salad I covered back in March. Even a sticky note that said “Sorry for being a pain.”

No cash, just proof she’d kept track. And wanted to make it right.

Maybe she needed to sweat a little. To get passed over. To be called out.

But it worked.

I didn’t become her best friend again. But I didn’t hold a grudge either. Sometimes people need a reality check, and sometimes you’re the one holding the mirror.

And if you’re wondering—we did have pancakes again.

Only this time, she paid.

Life has a way of balancing itself out if you let it.

Ever had someone take advantage of your kindness until you had to push back? Share your story if you’ve been there. And if this gave you a little satisfaction, give it a like—it helps more people see it.