Every time we go grocery shopping, without fail, my husband Jason suddenly gets a “very important work call” right as the cashier starts scanning our items. “Oh, babe, I gotta take this!” he says, disappearing before I even see the total. And like clockwork, I end up paying. But last Saturday, I decided enough was enough—it was time to turn the tables.
Jason is a great guy. He works hard, makes me laugh, and somehow remembers our anniversary without reminders. But he also has one persistent quirk: whenever we reach the checkout line, his phone mysteriously rings. At first, I let it go. We’re a team, after all. But by the tenth time, standing alone at the register with a $347.92 bill, I started to feel more like the finance department than a partner.
One weekend, after he rejoined me in the parking lot post-“call,” I asked, “Who was that?” He waved it off. “Work stuff. I’ll get it next time.” But “next time” never came.
So, I got creative.
The next week, I prepared in advance. While Jason snored peacefully, I borrowed his phone and changed the contact name for my number to something that would catch his attention: “Bank Fraud Department.” Then, I recorded a message—just for him.
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