My roommate’s constant demands for gourmet groceries with promises of repayment that never came were pushing me to my breaking point. The final straw was when she asked for a whole list of premium items for a party. I knew I had to teach her a lesson, and boy, did I ever!
I never thought I’d find myself plotting revenge against a roommate, but here we are. It all started about a year ago when Taryn 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 cracks began to show.
Taryn was one of those people who seemed to have a knack for getting others to do things for her. She had this way of asking that made you feel guilty for even thinking of saying no. It started small.
“Hey Kelly, could you grab some milk on your way home? I’ll pay you back,” she’d ask. No big deal, right? But then it escalated.
See, part of the problem is that Taryn has expensive tastes.
“Kelly, 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. Taryn was busy, or at least she claimed to be. She was always whining about her demanding study schedule, how she was stuck at home buried in books. But I knew the truth. While I was out busting my butt at work, she was home throwing parties and lounging around with her friends.
One evening, after a particularly grueling day at work, I came home to yet another request. Taryn was perched on the couch, scrolling through her phone. She barely looked up as she said, “Hey Kelly, 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 principle of the thing. She was taking advantage of me, and I was done playing the fool. I stood there, clutching my keys, feeling a mix of exhaustion and frustration bubble up inside me.
“Sure, Taryn. I’ll get right on that,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm that she, of course, didn’t catch.
That’s when I decided to get creative. If Taryn wanted premium items, she was going to get them, just not in the way she expected.
I headed to the store with Taryn’s list clutched in my hand. Premium wines, gourmet cheeses, exotic fruits, imported chocolates. I chuckled to myself as I imagined the look on her face when she realized what I was about to pull off. Instead of hitting up the upscale grocery store, I went straight to the bargain aisle.
First up, wine. Instead of the fancy, imported bottles Taryn loved to show off, I grabbed the cheapest boxed wine I could find. It was the kind of wine that made you cringe just thinking about it.
Next, I made my way to the cheese section and picked up a pack of processed cheese slices. You know, the kind you slap on a kid’s sandwich—definitely not what she had in mind.
Then came the fruits. I bypassed all the exotic stuff and grabbed the most common, bland apples and bananas I could find. No one was going to be impressed by these.
Finally, I strolled 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, Taryn was still sprawled on the couch. She glanced up briefly.
“Did you get everything?” she asked, her tone implying 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 typical, “Thanks, I’ll pay you back later.”
“Sure, no problem,” I muttered, my heart pounding with anticipation. The stage was set.
Party night arrived, and I made sure to stick around to see the fallout. Taryn was in full hostess mode, all smiles and false modesty as she bragged to her friends about the “premium” 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, Taryn, are you sure this is the right wine?”
Taryn’s smile faltered. She grabbed the box, her eyes widening in horror as she realized it was the cheapest swill 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.
Taryn’s cheeks flushed red. She was clearly mortified 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 deflated. Her friends, trying to be polite, murmured excuses and started to leave. The momentum fizzled out, and Taryn was left standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by cheap snacks and awkward silence.
I couldn’t resist twisting the knife a little.
“Wow, Taryn, your party is really something,” I said, barely able to keep the laughter out of my voice. “Everything okay?”
You know, it’s funny how you think you know someone until they pull a fast one on you. Kelly and I had been roommates for about a year. At first, she seemed like the perfect roommate: considerate, easy-going, and always willing to help out. I guess I took advantage of that a bit too much.
I’d often ask Kelly 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 Kelly a list of premium 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 mortified, standing alone in the wreckage of what was supposed to be my perfect evening. That’s when I saw Kelly, 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, Kelly? You got the wrong stuff on purpose!” I shouted, my voice shaking with a mix of fury and humiliation.
Kelly 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 had 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 Kelly 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. Kelly 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 Kelly 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 had happened. I realized how easy it had been to take advantage of Kelly’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.
Kelly’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.
