My roommate kept asking for fancy groceries, always promising to pay me back but never doing it, and it was driving me crazy. The last straw came when she wanted a bunch of expensive stuff for her party. I decided to teach her a lesson, and oh, did I!
I never thought I’d find myself planning payback on a roommate, but here we are. It all started about a year ago when Maeve and I moved into our cozy little apartment in the city.
At first, everything was great. We split chores, had movie nights, and even went out for drinks a few times. But then, slowly, the problems began to show.
Maeve was one of those people who seemed good at getting others to do things for her. She had this way of asking that made you feel bad for even thinking of saying no.
It started small.
“Hey, Finley, could you grab some milk on your way home? I’ll pay you back,” she’d ask. No big deal, right? But then it grew.
See, part of the problem is that Maeve has pricey tastes.
“Finley, could you pick up some of that fancy truffle cheese for me? It’s for a study snack. I’ll pay you back, I swear!” Spoiler alert: she never did.
At first, I brushed it off. Maeve was busy, or at least she claimed to be. She was always complaining about her tough study schedule, how she was stuck at home buried in books. But I knew the truth.
While I was out working hard at my job, she was home throwing parties and hanging out with her friends.
One evening, after a really tiring day at work, I came home to yet another request. Maeve was lounging on the couch, scrolling through her phone.
Maeve and I had been roommates for about a year. At first, she seemed like the perfect roommate: thoughtful, easy-going, and always willing to help out. I guess I took advantage of that a bit too much.
She barely looked up as she said, “Hey, Finley, can you pick up some things for my party this weekend? You know, cheeses, nice fruits, imported chocolates, and some good wine. The list is on the fridge.”
That was it! It wasn’t just the money; it was the idea of it all. She was using me, and I was tired of being the fool.
I stood there, holding my keys, feeling a mix of tiredness and anger bubble up inside me.
“Sure, Maeve. I’ll get right on that,” I replied, my voice full of sarcasm that she, of course, didn’t notice.
That’s when I decided to get clever. If Maeve wanted fancy items, she was going to get them, just not how she thought.
I headed to the store with Maeve’s list in my hand. Fancy wines, gourmet cheeses, exotic fruits, imported chocolates.
I chuckled to myself as I pictured the look on her face when she realized what I was up to. Instead of going to the upscale grocery store, I went straight to the discount aisle.
First up, wine. Instead of the fancy, imported bottles Maeve loved to show off, I grabbed the cheapest boxed wine I could find. It was the kind of wine that made you wince just thinking about it.
Next, I went to the cheese section and picked up a pack of processed cheese slices. You know, the kind you put on a kid’s sandwich—definitely not what she had in mind.
Then came the fruits. I skipped all the exotic stuff and grabbed the most basic, plain apples and bananas I could find. No one was going to be impressed by these.
Finally, I walked down the candy aisle and found some off-brand chocolates. Perfect.
I headed home, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. When I walked in, Maeve was still sprawled on the couch. She glanced up briefly.
“Did you get everything?” she asked, her tone showing she couldn’t care less about the answer.
“Yep, got it all,” I replied, setting the bags down on the counter. I couldn’t help but smirk as I watched her barely glance at the contents before dismissing me with her usual, “Thanks, I’ll pay you back later.”
“Sure, no problem,” I muttered, my heart pounding with anticipation. The stage was set.
That’s when I saw Finley, leaning against the kitchen doorway, a smug look on her face. When she made that snarky comment about my party, I lost it.
Party night arrived, and I made sure to stick around to see the fallout. Maeve was in full hostess mode, all smiles and fake modesty as she bragged to her friends about the “fancy” spread she’d put together.
I leaned against the kitchen doorway, sipping my drink and waiting for the show to start.
It didn’t take long. The first sign of trouble came when she started pouring the wine. Her guests exchanged puzzled looks, their noses wrinkling as they took tentative sips.
One guy couldn’t hide his disgust. “Uh, Maeve, are you sure this is the right wine?”
Maeve’s smile faltered. She grabbed the box, her eyes widening in horror as she realized it was the cheapest stuff available.
“I don’t understand,” she stammered. “It must have been mislabeled.”
She quickly moved on, trying to save face.
“Let’s have some cheese, shall we?” She unwrapped the processed slices, and her guests burst into laughter.
“This is the gourmet cheese?” one girl asked, struggling to keep a straight face.
Maeve’s cheeks flushed red. She was clearly embarrassed but tried to play it off. “Oh, you know, it’s all about the presentation,” she said, her voice strained.
The final blow came when she offered the “imported chocolates.”
One guest took a bite and immediately spit it out. “This tastes like cardboard!”
The party atmosphere quickly fizzled. Her friends, trying to be polite, murmured excuses and started to leave. The energy died out, and Maeve was left standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by cheap snacks and awkward silence.
I couldn’t resist adding a little twist.
“Wow, Maeve, your party is really something,” I said, barely able to keep the laughter out of my voice. “Everything okay?”
Maeve’s Perspective: You know, it’s funny how you think you know someone until they pull a fast one on you.
Finley and I had been roommates for about a year. At first, she seemed like the perfect roommate: thoughtful, easy-going, and always willing to help out. I guess I took advantage of that a bit too much.
I’d often ask Finley to pick up things for me. Honestly, I didn’t think much of it. I was busy with my studies and needed help.
Plus, I always promised to pay her back. I mean, who keeps track of a few dollars here and there, right?
Then came the day of my big party. I wanted everything to be perfect. I had written Finley a list of fancy items, gourmet cheeses, exotic fruits, imported chocolates, and some top-shelf wine.
She didn’t seem thrilled, but she agreed to get them. I barely glanced at what she bought, just trusting she got it right like always.
But she didn’t this time, and my party was ruined.
My friends, trying to be polite, made excuses and left. I was embarrassed, standing alone in the wreckage of what was supposed to be my perfect evening.
That’s when I saw Finley, leaning against the kitchen doorway, a smug look on her face. When she made that snarky comment about my party, I lost it.
“What the hell, Finley? You got the wrong stuff on purpose!” I shouted, my voice shaking with a mix of fury and humiliation.
Finley didn’t even flinch.
She just shrugged, her expression calm and innocent. “Oh, did I? Must have mixed things up. But don’t worry, you can just pay me back for what I did buy, whenever that day actually comes.”
Her words hit me like a slap. I opened my mouth to argue, but nothing came out. She was right. I did owe her, and not just for this time.
As I stood there, processing her words, a pang of guilt twisted in my gut. Deep down, I knew I’d been taking advantage of her kindness for months.
Unable to defend myself, I turned on my heel and stormed off to my room, slamming the door behind me.
I avoided Finley for the next few days, too embarrassed and angry to face her. But as the days passed, the anger faded, leaving behind a heavy weight of guilt.
The atmosphere in the apartment shifted. Finley went about her days with a newfound confidence. She didn’t need to say anything—her actions spoke louder than words. She was done being my doormat, and I had to respect that.
From that day on, I never asked Finley to shop for me again. I started taking responsibility for my own needs, learning to manage my time better and shop for myself. It was a hard lesson, but a necessary one.
In the quiet moments alone in my room, I reflected on what happened. I realized how easy it had been to take advantage of Finley’s kindness and how wrong it was. She’d taught me a valuable lesson about respect and boundaries, one I wouldn’t forget.
As the weeks turned into months, the dynamic between us changed. We weren’t as close as before, but there was a new understanding. I’d learned to respect her space and her generosity, and I like to think she saw a change in me too.
Sometimes, it takes a bit of humiliation to see the truth about yourself.
Finley’s actions were a wake-up call, and I’m grateful for it. I had been entitled and thoughtless, but now I was determined to do better. And in the end, that’s all anyone can really ask for—the chance to learn and grow from their mistakes.