I sighed, unloading the cart while the cashier, an older woman with kind eyes, gave me a knowing look. When I saw the total—$347.92—I knew I had to take action. That night, as Jason slept, I set my plan in motion. I took his phone, changed my contact name to “Bank Fraud Department,” and placed it back as if nothing had happened.
The next morning, we went through our usual routine and headed to the store. As expected, Jason’s hand moved toward his phone as we neared the register. It was time.
I tapped my smartwatch, making his phone ring.
RING. RING.
Jason glanced at the screen, his face turning pale when he saw “Bank Fraud Department” calling. He hesitated, then held the phone out to me.
“Aren’t you going to answer?” I asked, barely suppressing a grin.
He stammered, looking at the growing line behind us. I swiped to answer, and a pre-recorded message I had set up played loud and clear:
“Hello, Jason. We’ve detected unusual activity on your account—specifically pretending to receive phone calls every time it’s your turn to pay at checkout.”
Laughter rippled through the line behind us. Even the cashier coughed to cover a chuckle. Jason’s face turned red as he quickly pulled out his wallet and paid. Total: $389.76.
The cashier gave me a discreet thumbs-up. “Need help with the bags, sir?” she asked with a teasing tone.
Jason muttered, “No, I got it,” grabbing as many as he could carry.
The car ride home was quiet. Eventually, Jason sighed. “That was low, Lauren.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You mean lower than vanishing every time it’s your turn to pay?”
He opened his mouth but had no argument. “How long have you been planning this?”
“Not as long as you’ve been planning your phone calls.”
He winced. “Okay, maybe I’ve been avoiding it a little.”
“A little?” I laughed. “Jason, you’ve turned skipping the bill into an art form.”
He finally smiled. “Alright, I get it. No more fake calls.” He paused. “But I have to admit, that was pretty clever.”
“Thank you,” I said, bowing dramatically. “I learned from the best.”
We both laughed as we unloaded the groceries. For the first time in a while, it felt like we were a team again.
Since then, Jason hasn’t pulled his disappearing act. In fact, now he insists on paying—and sometimes even places his phone on the counter to prove a point.
I still keep my smartwatch charged, just in case.