Frank had always prided himself on his sneaky tactics to get freebies, but his luck ran out at a high-end restaurant. What began as a simple meal turned into a public spectacle when karma finally caught up with him, teaching him a lesson he never saw coming.
My father-in-law, Frank, has always been one of those people who never miss an opportunity to scam others for their own benefit.
I’ve witnessed him do that multiple times, but I never thought I’d see the day when his tricks would backfire so spectacularly, leaving him red-faced and scrambling for an exit.
A close-up shot of an older man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
I’ve known Frank for about nine years now. I first met him when Ethan and I started dating, and Ethan introduced us over dinner at a restaurant. That was the first time I saw Frank trying to scam a restaurant.
The waiters served our food, and we began eating. I ordered pasta, Ethan got a sandwich, and Frank ordered a bowl of rice with sesame chicken.
A bowl of sesame chicken with rice | Source: Pexels
“The chicken is so delicious!” Frank said, enjoying his meal.
“Yeah, even this sandwich tastes great,” Ethan added.
I thought Frank was just appreciating the restaurant’s food and service. But no. Frank had something else in mind, and what he did next caught me completely off guard.
“Let me show you how to get more of the same meal for free!” he said before calling a waiter over to our table.
An older man in a restaurant, smiling | Source: Midjourney
“How can I help you, sir?” the waiter asked politely.
“This chicken tastes awful!” Frank said angrily, shaking his head in disapproval. “I can’t believe you’re serving such tasteless meals. The flavor is bland, and it’s not even properly cooked.”
“I’m so sorry, sir,” the waiter apologized. “I’ll get a replacement right away.”
“Hurry up!” Frank snapped. “I don’t have time to waste here. You better return with something that’s properly cooked!”
A waiter in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
The waiter looked panicked, apologizing as if he was at fault. He took away the half-eaten meal that Frank pretended to dislike, promising to return in five minutes.
Once the waiter left, Frank flashed us an evil smile like he had pulled off something impressive.
At that point, I wanted to ask Frank why he lied to get another meal for free. It wasn’t like he didn’t have money, or he was dying of hunger.
A woman looking straight ahead while having dinner with her family | Source: Midjourney
What he did was so cheap, but I believed I was not in a position to make him realize how wrong he was.
Later that night, I asked Ethan why his father did that.
“He’s always been like this,” Ethan sighed. “He thinks it’s funny and he never listens when we tell him it’s wrong. We’ve tried a million times, trust me.”
“But didn’t you see how hurt that waiter was? He really thought your dad didn’t like the food,” I protested. “This is so wrong, Ethan. So unfair.”
A woman talking to her boyfriend | Source: Midjourney
Ethan told me to let it go, and since we were just starting our relationship, I figured it wasn’t worth arguing over.
I could’ve pressed Ethan to understand how wrong Frank’s actions were, but I didn’t want something so minor to strain our relationship.
However, looking back, I wish I had told Ethan to put an end to his dad’s habit.
An older man in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
The following year, Ethan and I tied the knot, and since then, I’ve been a witness to how cheap Frank is. I’ve watched in horror as he pulled stunts to get free food, free services in hotels, and free ANYTHING, ANYWHERE!
A man shaking hands with a woman at work | Source: Pexels
During the first year of our marriage, I tried explaining to Ethan how wrong his father’s behavior was, but it led to a big argument. Ethan kept saying he had no control over Frank, while I insisted he at least talk to his dad about it.
That night, I decided to stop meddling in Frank’s business because it was useless. Little did I know, karma was about to step in and teach Frank a lesson he’d never forget.
It all started when Frank called Ethan last weekend.
A man talking to his father on the phone | Source: Pexels
“There’s a new restaurant near my workplace,” he said. “I was wondering if you and Bella could join me. I’ve heard the food’s quite expensive so I just wanna see if it’s worth the money.”
“Sure, Dad,” Ethan replied. “We’ll be there.”
Two days later, we found ourselves in the restaurant with Frank. It was one of those fancy places where the plates are tiny, the prices are outrageous, and you need a reservation just to get in.
A fancy restaurant | Source: Pexels
“This place looks nice,” I said as I skimmed through the menu. “But wow, it’s pricey.”
“Yeah, it’s super expensive,” Ethan said. “I think I’ll stick with a simple pasta.”
“Me too,” I agreed. “White sauce pasta for me. What about you, Frank?”
Frank was busy scanning the menu, his finger trailing down to the most expensive item.
“I’ll have the lobster,” he grinned.
“A lobster? Really Dad?” Ethan asked. “You’ve never ordered one before.”
A man sitting in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
“I know you’d say this,” Frank replied. “But it’s nice to try new things, isn’t it?”
“You’re right, Dad,” Ethan said before calling the waiter.
We placed our orders, but I could tell Frank was gearing up for another one of his stunts.
Soon, our food arrived, and we began eating. However, halfway through the dinner, I noticed Frank staring at his lobster. I couldn’t understand what was happening until he plucked a hair from my head and placed it on his dish.
Yep, Frank had the nerve to do that. I was too stunned to say a word.
An angry woman in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Then he called the waiter over, feigning disgust.
“There’s a hair in my food,” Frank exclaimed, pushing his seat away from the table as if the hair would fly over to him. “This is unacceptable! I shouldn’t have to pay for this filth!”
What the heck? I thought. How can he even think of doing that?
I was mortified, while Ethan looked like he was about to explode with anger.
“I’m so sorry, sir,” the waiter said. “I’ll let the manager know.”
That’s when karma made its move.
A waiter in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
The manager approached our table a few seconds later.
“We’re so sorry for the inconvenience, sir,” he apologized.
I think he was about to offer a complimentary meal when another waiter came over to our table and whispered something in the manager’s ear.
That’s when the manager’s expression changed from apologetic to stone-cold serious. He took a deep breath and said, “Sir, I need to ask you to leave.”
“What? Why should I leave?” Frank protested. “I found hair in my food and you’re kicking me out? Is this how you treat your customers?”
An angry older man | Source: Midjourney
“Sir, I’m asking you to leave because we believe you put the hair in the dish yourself,” the manager said calmly.
I can never forget the look on Frank’s face. Shocked, horrified, and caught off guard, he still tried to argue.
“How dare you accuse me of that!” he yelled at the manager. “I’ll have your job for this!”
By now, the whole restaurant was watching.
People in a restaurant | Source: Pexels
“Sir,” the manager began, “one of our staff members recognized you from another restaurant where you pulled the same stunt. We take food safety seriously here and won’t tolerate attempts to defame our business. Please leave, or we will involve the authorities.”
At that point, people around us started whispering among themselves, and some of them were even laughing. Meanwhile, Ethan and I looked at each other, wishing we hadn’t agreed to this dinner.
But it didn’t end there.
A man sitting with his wife in a restaurant | Source: Midjourney
Frank was at a loss for words and knew he couldn’t do anything to prove the manager wrong. So, he stood up and picked up his coat, preparing to leave.
“And one more thing, sir,” the manager said. “We’re sharing your photo and details with several other high-end restaurants in the area. You’ll no longer be welcome at any of them.”
Frank’s face turned pale as he realized what the manager just said.
An older man in a restaurant, looking shocked | Source: Midjourney
What bothered him more was that the entire restaurant heard him and many of them were laughing at him. At that point, he understood he could no longer pull his cheap stunts to claim free food.
Karma had defeated him.
Frank stormed out of the restaurant without saying another word, while Ethan and I sat there in silence. Once the shock wore off, I couldn’t help but laugh at what just happened.
A woman laughing | Source: Midjourney
“I never thought I’d see the day!” I said, still laughing. “Frank finally got a taste of his own medicine, and it wasn’t free.”
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe he’ll finally realize that cheating his way through life always has a cost.”
That night, I finally understood how karma works. I couldn’t help but think that sometimes, karma is just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And that moment might be right when you’re about to dig into an overpriced lobster.
Do you agree?
A lobster served in a dish | Source: Pexels
If you enjoyed reading this story, here’s another one you might like: My wedding day took a bizarre turn when our videographer pulled me aside with shocking footage. What I saw next would test my new marriage, expose a family’s dark secrets, and leave me questioning everything I thought I knew about love and trust.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher
My Husband Didn’t Save Me Any Food for Dinner While I Was Feeding Our Newborn Son
Five weeks ago, my world changed in the most beautiful and challenging ways when I became a mother. My son, with his tiny fingers and soft sighs, became the center of my universe. Yet, amid this new and overwhelming love, a shadow loomed over our little family’s happiness — my mother-in-law.
From the moment we brought our son home, she stationed herself in our living room, transforming it into her base camp. Her intentions might have been good, at least that’s what my husband believed, asserting she was here to help us navigate through these early days of parenthood. However, her presence quickly became another source of stress. She filled our home with visitors, contributing to the chaos rather than alleviating it. Despite this, I bit my tongue, choosing silence over confrontation, all for the sake of peace.
A mam and her baby | Source: Pexels
Amidst the endless cycle of feeding, changing diapers, and soothing my son to sleep, I found little time for myself, often going hours without food. My mother-in-law, claiming that she was there to cook, didn’t extend her support to actually helping with the baby. Eventually, I was exhausted and hungry, clinging to the hope that at least I wouldn’t have to worry about meals.
A woman cooking | Source: Pexels
Last night shattered that last vestige of appreciation I had for her so-called help. After a long evening spent breastfeeding, I emerged from the nursery, expecting to find a plate saved for me, only to be met with indifference from my husband and outright disregard from his mother.
The coldness in her voice as she informed me there was no food left because she assumed I wasn’t hungry cut deeper than any physical hunger I felt. In that moment, my frustration boiled over. The argument that ensued was heated and bitter, revealing the deep fissures in our family dynamics.
An empty plate | Source: Pexels
My husband’s defense of his mother, coupled with his outrage at my reaction, made it painfully clear that I was alone in this struggle. On top of it all, he even expected me to wash the dishes as well. Feeling utterly unsupported and unseen, I made the decision to leave, seeking refuge in my mother’s home. The calm and care I found there stood in stark contrast to the turmoil I left behind.
An upset woman | Source: Pexels
Yet, even here, where I thought I would be safe, the conflict followed. My husband’s relentless calls and messages, each more accusatory than the last, painted me as the villain in this scenario. His inability to understand my perspective, to see the toll his mother’s presence and his lack of support took on me, was disheartening. The narrative he spun to his family, that I was keeping our son from him over a trivial matter like food, only added to my sense of isolation.
An angry guy | Source: Pexels
As I tried to navigate through these swirling emotions, the bond with my son remained my anchor. His innocent dependence on me, his warmth, and his trust, fortified my resolve to seek a better environment for us both, even if it meant standing against the expectations and demands of my husband and his family.
A woman and her baby | Source: Pexels
In the quiet of my mother’s house, with my son cradled close, I pondered our future. The path forward seemed daunting, fraught with difficult conversations and decisions. Yet, in the face of this adversity, I knew I had to advocate for myself and my son, to strive for a life filled with the love, respect, and support we deserved.
A woman enjoying a cup of coffee | Source: Pexels
In a moment of sheer desperation, I reached out to the one person I hadn’t considered before — my father-in-law. Through tear-blurred eyes and with a trembling voice, I poured out my heart, detailing every strain and stress that had pushed me to my limit. To my surprise, he didn’t just offer words of comfort; he took immediate action.
A man on a phone call | Source: Pexels
Within the hour, we were standing together at my house’s doorstep, his usually gentle demeanor replaced with a stern resolve that I had rarely seen. He didn’t spare a moment for pleasantries, bypassing me to confront the heart of the turmoil — his son and wife, seated obliviously in front of the TV. The air grew heavy with anticipation as he declared, “This ends now,” a simple yet powerful decree that commanded attention.
An older man | Source: Pexels
He turned to my husband first, his voice a mix of disappointment and authority, “You will wash the dishes every night from now on. Your wife needs your support, not your neglect.” The shock on my husband’s face was palpable, a visible sign that the weight of his father’s words had struck a chord.
Then, without missing a beat, he addressed his wife, my mother-in-law, with a clarity and firmness that left no room for negotiation. “And you, it’s time to go home. Your ‘help’ here is doing more harm than good.” The impact of his words on her was immediate; the usually unflappable woman was reduced to a silent, stunned figure, her protests dying before they could even begin.
An upset older woman | Source: Pexels
With the air still echoing his pronouncements, my father-in-law turned to me, a softness returning to his gaze, “Now, let’s go get you a proper meal.” That dinner was a welcome pause in the storm where understanding and compassion filled the gaps worn by weeks of tension. It was a balm to my frayed nerves, a gesture of solidarity that I had sorely missed.
Woman enjoying a meal | Source: Pexels
Back home, the reality of my father-in-law’s intervention began to take root. My husband, confronted with the undeniable truth of his neglect, took to the dishes — a symbolic act of taking responsibility not just for the cleanliness of our home, but for the well-being of our family. It was a turning point, one that reshaped the dynamics of our household.
A happy woman | Source: Pexels
The changes were gradual but undeniable. My husband emerged as a more present and supportive partner, actively participating in the care of our son and the myriad tasks that keep a home running smoothly. My mother-in-law’s presence in our home, once a source of constant stress, became a rare and much more welcome occurrence. Her visits, now infrequent, were no longer invasions but genuine attempts to connect and contribute positively to our family life.
A happy family | Source: Pexels
This transformation, sparked by the bold yet necessary intervention of my father-in-law, brought about a sense of peace and respect that had been missing. The support I had longed for was finally manifesting, not just in the physical help around the house but in the emotional solidarity that now characterized our family. It was a stark reminder of the power of understanding and the profound impact of taking a stand for what’s right.
A man washing dishes | Source: Pexels
In the end, the turmoil that had once seemed insurmountable became the catalyst for a deeper connection and appreciation among us all. My husband’s efforts to amend his ways and my mother-in-law’s adjusted approach to her visits painted a hopeful picture of our future — a future where support, respect, and love were no longer scarce commodities but the foundation of our home.
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Here’s a similar story about a MIL who threw her DIL’s food out.
My MIL Threw Away All My Food from the Fridge – I Responded on Her Birthday
Living under the same roof with my mother-in-law had always been a test of patience, especially given the cultural chasm that lay between us. But I never anticipated that her disdain for my South Asian heritage would escalate to the point of her disposing of all my cooking supplies, a deliberate act that felt like a direct assault on my identity.
Kebabs roasting | Source: Pexels
My culinary practices, deeply rooted in my culture, were more than just about sustenance; they were a vibrant thread connecting me to my family, my heritage, and my very sense of self. The food I prepared was a celebration of my lineage, each dish a story of my ancestors, flavored with tradition and memories. So, when I discovered my pantry emptied, it was as if those connections had been callously severed.
A rice dish with various furnishings | Source: Pexels
This incident was the peak of ongoing tensions. Since my mother-in-law moved in, there had been a noticeable shift in our household dynamics. My husband, caught between his love for the diverse flavors of my cooking and his mother’s criticisms, found himself in an unenviable position of mediator. Despite his best efforts, the harmony we once enjoyed had eroded, leaving in its place a palpable strain that threatened to unravel the fabric of our family.
Various spices | Source: Pexels
Her criticisms weren’t new to me. From my eating habits to the aromatic spices that perfumed our home, she spared no opportunity to express her disdain, her comments a constant echo of disapproval. My husband’s attempts to bridge this gap, to explain the richness and beauty of my culture, often fell on deaf ears, his words dissolving into the air, leaving no impact.
Jards in a pantry | Source: Pexels
The day the pantry stood bare, my world tilted. The realization that she had acted on her contempt by discarding not just the ingredients but a piece of my identity was a profound shock. Her justification, that it was for the sake of her son’s dietary preferences, was a blatant dismissal of my existence, my culture, and the choices of her own son.
A woman doing grocery shopping | Source: Pexels
Faced with the daunting task of replenishing my supplies amid the challenges posed by the quarantine, I returned home from an unsuccessful attempt at grocery shopping, only to be met with her audacious questioning about dinner. It was a moment of clarity for me; I understood then that silence was no longer an option. Her actions were not just a personal attack but a challenge to my place in this family and to my identity. I was determined to not let her narrative define me.
A woman cooking | Source: Pexels
With a newfound resolve, I embarked on a culinary strategy aimed at showcasing my heritage in a manner that was impossible to ignore. My mother-in-law’s upcoming party presented the perfect opportunity. Instead of the traditional American cuisine she had anticipated, I introduced subtle infusions of Indian flavors into each dish, transforming the menu into a silent but powerful statement of my culture.
A dinner party | Source: Pexels
The reaction was immediate and unanimous; the guests were enchanted by the unexpected flavors, their compliments a chorus of approval that filled the room. For the first time, my mother-in-law was forced to witness the embrace of my heritage by her own friends, a reality that challenged her prejudices head-on.
People enjoying a dinner party | Source: Pexels
This breakthrough moment at the party served as a turning point. The praise from her guests prompted a reluctant reevaluation of her biases, leading to a begrudging acknowledgment of her misplaced animosity. The realization that her resistance was rooted in deeper biases and that her son’s happiness was intertwined with the acceptance of his wife’s culture marked the beginning of a shift in our relationship.
People talking and laughing at a table full of food | Source: Pexels
Although the journey towards full acceptance and understanding remained fraught with challenges, the decision for my mother-in-law to move out signaled a new chapter for our family. It was a change that brought with it a breath of fresh air, allowing for healing and the promise of a more harmonious future.
People enjoying a meal | Source: Pexels
The experience, painful as it was, underscored the transformative power of food as a bridge between cultures. It taught us the importance of embracing diversity and the beauty of opening our hearts and homes to the stories and traditions that food can tell, paving the way for acceptance and mutual respect.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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