Do Well, Be Well

After the department dinner, Helen from HR dropped a payment request in the group chat.
[Last night's dinner came out to $850. Please send me $45 each.]
Then, she specifically tagged me.
[@Laura, that includes you, don't forget!]
I thought shed made a mistake. After all, I hadn't even been there.
I sent a polite reminder, but Helen completely lost it.
[We booked your spot. You think you don't have to pay just because you didn't show up?]
[If you don't pay up, your colleagues will have to cover your share!]
I quietly posted the real receipt from their dinner at my family's restaurant.
"After the discount, the total was two hundred and fifty dollars. Helen, are you trying to rip everyone off?"

1
I wasnt feeling well, so I skipped the department dinner last night.
The moment I got to the office this morning, I saw the message from Helen in the group chat.
[Last night's dinner came out to $850. Please send me $45 each.]
Helen was in charge of HR for our department, and rumor had it her husband was a company shareholder. Naturally, no one dared to cross her.
The payment notifications started popping up one by one.
I figured it had nothing to do with me and was about to put my phone away when it buzzed again.
Helen had tagged me.
[@Laura, you too, don't forget!]
?
I wasnt even there.
Thinking shed simply forgotten, I replied in the chat to gently remind her.
I never expected her to explode. She launched into a full-blown tirade right there in the group chat.
[What's that supposed to mean?]
[The dinner was priced per head. I booked everything in advance.]
[It's your problem that you didn't show up, but that doesn't mean you're exempt from paying!]
[Are you really so broke you'd try to skip out on forty-five bucks?]

2
Helen's words were utterly merciless.
My face flushed hot with embarrassment.
I had messaged her privately yesterday to explain I couldn't make it. Shed told me it was no problem, that the restaurant charged by the dish, not per person.
What changed overnight?
A colleague sitting next to me leaned over and whispered, "Laura, you're new to this department. You really don't want to get on Helen's bad side."
But this wasn't my fault. And more than that, what she said was just plain nasty.
I took a screenshot of our conversation from the day before and posted it in the group.
I tagged her directly.
[Helen, yesterday you said it was fine. Why the change of heart today?]
[If you had told me upfront, I would have just paid it.]
[Are you that hard up for my forty-five bucks?]
The moment the message went out, I could hear a collective gasp ripple through the open-plan office.
Several people gave me subtle thumbs-ups.
Honestly, I didnt want to make a big deal out of it, but she started it. And I was holding back my harsher thoughts. Id seen a video from the dinner last nighta few simple, family-style dishes on the table, not even a single bottle of wine. How on earth did that cost over eight hundred dollars?
The chat went silent.
I ignored it, tossed my phone aside, and focused on my work. I wasn't worried about getting fired for pissing her off.
I expected Helen to stomp over to my desk any minute.
But it wasn't until the lunch break that she finally appeared, stilettos clicking, designer bag swinging, her face a mask of fury.
"Who do you think you are?" she hissed. "When did I ever say you didn't have to pay? Who knows if that screenshot is Photoshopped? And even if I did say it, it was only because I felt sorry for the new girl! Now the entire department has paid except for you. What makes you so special? You think you're better than everyone else?"

3
Looking at her perfectly made-up face and designer outfit, I realized something.
No wonder it was so quiet this morning. She hadn't even been in the office yet.
Her outburst startled everyone from their lunch break. They saw who it was and immediately went back to staring at their screens, fuming but silent. A few shot me resentful glances.
Seeing that I wasn't responding, Helen assumed I was scared. She planted her hands on her hips, looming over me.
"Pay me the dinner fee right now, and then you will apologize to me in front of the entire department! Otherwise, I'll make sure your life in this office is a living hell!"
It was a blatant threat. A fresh-faced rookie might have buckled immediately.
But I wasn't a rookie.
I'd been with this company for ten years. Most of my old colleagues had either been laid off or transferred. As a long-term employee with a permanent contract and a documented workplace injury on my record, I was practically untouchable. The company couldn't fire me without a massive headache.
I wasnt scared at all.
In fact, the thought of what was coming thrilled me.
"Fine, I'll pay," I said.
A smirk spread across Helen's face. "That's more like it"
I cut her off. "On one condition. You have to admit, right here and now, that you can't survive without my forty-five dollars. The second you say it, I'll transfer the money. Deal?"
The smirk on Helen's face froze.
When she finally processed what I'd said, she slammed her hand on my desk.
"Laura! How dare you mock me?!"
Her voice was so shrill it almost cracked. She was genuinely furious now.
Then, a cunning look crossed her face as an idea seemed to strike her. She calmed down and turned to address the rest of the office.
"Since Laura refuses to pay for the dinner, her share will be split among the rest of you."
"Everyone, please send me an extra ten dollars."

4
My face hardened.
She was clearly trying to strong-arm me into paying. Ten dollars wasn't much, but I knew it would make my colleagues resent me. Over time, that resentment would turn into isolation and ostracism.
But if I gave in this time, there would be a next time, and a time after that. Working my butt off for peanuts was hard enough; was I supposed to use my own salary to line the pockets of some power-tripping manager?
I couldn't swallow this insult.
I sent a direct message to the top boss.
[Mr. Roberts, I have a question. Is it company policy to charge employees for department events they didn't attend?]
[When was this rule implemented?]
He didn't reply, probably in a meeting.
But my colleagues couldn't hold back any longer. Murmurs of complaint filled the air.
"Why should we have to? It's not our fault she didn't pay."
"Exactly! What are we, her personal piggy bank?"
Even the colleague who had warned me earlier physically shifted her chair away from me.
Seeing that her plan had worked, Helen shot me a smug, satisfied look. It was a look that said, You're way out of your league, kid.
Then she gave me her ultimatum: transfer the money by the end of the day.
This time, I said nothing.
But something about all this felt very wrong.
Later that afternoon, still fuming, I went to the fire stairwell to cool off. Just as I was about to leave, I heard the sound of high heels approaching. On a whim, I ducked around the corner of the landing.
It was Helen. She stopped just out of sight, talking on her phone, her voice dripping with smug satisfaction.
"Just you wait. She'll be packing her bags within a month!"

5
Her conversation continued.
"Report me? Who'd dare? Those idiots would rather lick my boots!"
"And that restaurant last night was a great find. Cheap and good. The whole thing was just over a thousand bucks."
She hung up, then scoffed into the empty air, her voice full of contempt.
"Trying to fight me? She really needs to take a look in the mirror."
I stayed hidden in the corner until long after she had left.
So, this was never about the forty-five dollars. It was about forcing me to quit.
That settled it. There was no way I was letting this go.
Her last comment sparked an idea. If she wanted to turn my colleagues against me, let's see who was better at playing that game. I refused to believe everyone in this office was born without a spine.
Back at my desk, I pulled up the video of the dinner again, trying to spot the restaurant's name. I went through it frame by frame. Whether by design or chance, there were no logos or signs visible.
Just as I was about to give up, my eyes landed on the dinnerware.
Wait a second.
Those plates... why did they look so familiar? They looked just like
I quickly opened my photo album and found the design for the custom plates Id ordered for my parents' restaurant.
It was a perfect match.
So, the restaurant where they had their dinner was mine?

6
I immediately called my mom to confirm.
"Oh, right! A group of about a dozen people came in yesterday, said it was a company dinner."
"Their boss was so cheap! So many people, and they only ordered the least expensive dishes. Then she insisted on a twenty percent discount before she'd pay. The total only came to two hundred and fifty dollars! And they packed up every last scrap of leftover food!"
"Oh, and she called today asking me to issue a fake receipt for eight hundred and fifty. Your father told her to get lost."
I breathed a sigh of relief. Good for Dad.
Just to be sure, I had my mom pull the restaurant's security footage. It was them, my colleagues, without a doubt.
I told my mom what had happened today. She was furious and immediately sent me a copy of the itemized bill from last night.
"You go get 'em, sweetheart! Don't you worry! If things go south, you can always come home. Mom and Dad will take care of you!"
Her words warmed my heart, but quitting was out of the question.
This was now a battle between me and Helen.
As the workday was ending, she popped up in the group chat again.
This time, she posted a picture of an invoice and tagged me.
[@Laura, here's the restaurant invoice, just so you can't claim I overcharged you.]
[But if you can really live with yourself while your colleagues cover for you, then be my guest!]

7
The moment her message appeared, every eye in the office turned to me.
Some were curious, some were angry, some were contemptuous.
Then, she added one more line.
[And don't even think about running to Mr. Roberts. He has no time for employees who refuse to be team players!]
It all clicked. That's why I never got a reply to my message at noon.
But I was more curious about something else. Who was Helen on the phone with in the stairwell? Who wanted me gone badly enough to resort to these tactics? There were only a few possibilities.
I shook the thought from my head as my colleagues started complaining again.
"Laura, your fight with Helen is your business. Can you please not drag the rest of us into it?"
"Yeah, you can tell she wasn't from our department originally. She's clearly not one of us."
"Don't be so selfish. We're not obligated to pay your share."
This time, I didn't say a word.
Instead, I opened the main company group chat.
The one with all several hundred employees.
I forwarded every single message from Helen, along with a picture of the real, itemized bill from the restaurant, and a picture of her forged invoice.
Then I tagged all the senior managers.
[To management: I'd like to ask if you are aware that a member of our HR department is using team dinners to skim money off the top and is also creating fraudulent invoices?]

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