Every time my husband Jason and I go grocery shopping, he seems to pull the same old stunt. Without fail, as soon as we get to the checkout line and the cashier starts ringing up our items, his phone miraculously rings. “Oh, babe, I gotta take this!” he says, acting like it’s an emergency.
Then he disappears, leaving me stuck paying for everything. It was funny the first couple of times, but after a while, it started driving me crazy. Jason is a good man—he works hard, he’s funny, and he never forgets an anniversary—but this little habit of his was pushing me over the edge. It wasn’t about the money. We both work and share expenses, but it was the principle. Every time we reached the register, he’d find an excuse to vanish.
The first few times, I shrugged it off. Marriage is all about give and take, right? But after about ten times in a row, I noticed the pattern. One afternoon after we finished shopping, he pulled his usual disappearing act and returned just as I was pushing the cart out the door. “Who was that on the phone?” I asked. “Work stuff,” he said vaguely, before adding, “Thanks for handling checkout. I’ll get it next time.” Spoiler alert: there never was a next time.
Last Saturday, it happened again. We had a huge cart loaded up with groceries—cleaning supplies, meals for the week, his fancy coffee, and snacks. As we approached the register, I counted down in my head. Three… two… one… ring! Jason’s hand shot to his pocket. “Oh, babe, I gotta take this—work,” he said, already halfway to the entrance, pacing around like he was negotiating an international peace treaty. Meanwhile, I unloaded the mountain of groceries onto the conveyor belt. The cashier, a kind older woman, gave me a knowing look. You know the one—the “I see what he’s doing” look. I blushed with embarrassment but then saw the total on the screen: $347.92. My embarrassment turned into frustration.
That night, while Jason slept soundly beside me, I stayed awake, my mind racing. I decided it was time to teach him a lesson. The next night, when Jason was asleep, I grabbed his phone. I wasn’t snooping; we trust each other. I just had another mission in mind. I opened his contacts, found my name, and changed it to “Bank Fraud Department.” Then I put his phone back exactly where it was and went to bed with a grin. The next morning, we followed our usual routine—sleep in a little, have breakfast, and then head out for groceries. As we loaded the cart with everything we needed (and plenty we didn’t), my heart raced in anticipation. When we reached the checkout line, I watched Jason’s hand hover near his pocket.
I tapped my smartwatch. Right on cue, his phone rang. He pulled it out, looking relieved as he prepared to walk away again. But then he froze. “Bank Fraud Department” was calling. His face turned pale. “Aren’t you going to answer it?” I asked sweetly. He glanced at me, then at the phone, and back again. “Lauren, this…” he trailed off. I swiped to answer the call. My pre-recorded message blasted out: “Hello, Jason. We’ve detected suspicious behavior on your account. Specifically, you pretending to get a phone call every time it’s YOUR turn to pay at checkout.” Jason’s jaw dropped.
His face turned redder than the tomatoes in our cart. The cashier coughed, hiding a laugh. The couple behind us giggled. Jason said nothing. He just pulled out his wallet and paid the $389.76 without another word. As we left, the cashier gave me a subtle thumbs-up. The ride home was awkwardly quiet. Jason gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. Finally, he said, “That was low, Lauren.” I smiled sweetly. “Lower than leaving me to pay every time?”
He sighed. “Fair.” As we unloaded the groceries, he asked, “How long have you been planning that?” “Not as long as you’ve been faking your calls,” I replied. He chuckled weakly. “Okay, I deserved that.” Since that day, Jason hasn’t pulled his vanishing act again. In fact, he insists on paying now, sometimes even placing his phone on the counter to prove he’s staying put. And I always keep my smartwatch charged. Just in case.
