The Potluck Scam: Twenty Times the "Compensation"
And since Mandy, the new girl in accounting, offered to have everyone chip in for groceries, I didn't have the heart to say no.
On my last day of work, we had one final get-together at my house.
Mandy was all smiles.
"Clara, you're seriously an amazing cook," she said. "As a little thank you, we each sent you seventy-five bucks."
But the next day, she sent me a message.
"Clara, running an unpermitted food business is illegal. Not only can they shut down your home, but since the total value of transactions is over fifteen hundred dollars, you'll have to pay a fine of twenty times that amount."
"But since we're all colleagues, we won't report you. We can handle this privately."
"Just give us the twenty times fine as compensation."
That's when I realized it. Up to that final dinner, the total amount of money they had all chipped in for groceries was exactly one thousand five hundred and one dollars.
1
Mandy had barely started her job in accounting, but she was already showing off her new designer handbag to everyone in the office.
My coworkers oohed and aahed, telling her how rich she must be. It was exactly the reaction she wanted.
She covered her mouth with her hand, giggling.
"Oh, you guys will be able to afford one soon, too," she said.
She set the expensive bag on her desk and then wrapped her arms around mine, her voice turning pleading and sweet.
"Clara, I heard you're resigning. We should have one last get-together, right? I mean, who knows when we'll ever get to taste your amazing cooking again."
I told her it was no problem and asked everyone to make a list of what they wanted to eat so I could prep. I planned a huge feast: her favorite sweet and sour pork ribs, a whole roasted salmon, slow-braised short ribs, and a few light vegetable dishesall things they'd raved about before. It was a lot of work, but it was the last time.
When she heard me agree, she gave me a huge hug.
"You're the best, Clara! With skills like yours, you could totally be a professional chef!"
I smiled, still a little uncomfortable with her being so touchy-feely, and gently eased away.
My best friend, Kate, picked me up from work that day and saw the menu I'd jotted down in my phone's notes. She knew all about my dinner parties for my colleagues and couldn't help but lecture me.
"You're about to leave, why are you still bothering with them?" she grumbled. "It's not like you need the grocery money. It's so much work, and what if something goes wrong? They'll just blame you."
Kate owned a restaurant, so shed seen her fair share of people trying to scam free meals. She was worried I'd get taken advantage of.
"After you quit, come stay with me for a few days. Just relax. Stop being everyone's free personal chef."
I figured it was just one last dinner, a nice way to say goodbye to my colleagues. What could possibly go wrong? I promised Kate it would be the absolute last time.
The next morning at work, Mandy rushed over to my desk.
"Clara, Clara! I told everyone about the party!" she announced. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to catch the attention of a few nearby coworkers, who all chimed in about how excited they were for the weekend.
Then, Mandy sent me the menu. It was long.
"I already asked everyone what they wanted, so you can just follow this list. No need to stress about it!"
My eyes widened when I saw Lobster Thermidor on the list. My smile faltered.
"Mandy, some of these dishes are really complicated, and the ingredients are not cheap"
Before I could finish, Mandy's face fell into a pout.
"Clara, are you saying you think we're just a bunch of freeloaders?"
I immediately denied it.
She looked at me with puppy-dog eyes.
"It's just... after you leave, we won't get to eat your food anymore. We wanted to try some new things," she wheedled. "Don't worry, we'll all chip in for the groceries, just like always."
I felt cornered. I finally gave in.
"Okay, but this time, you'll all need to send me the money first. I'll refund you whatever is left over."
A corner of Mandy's mouth twitched. She was still smiling, but her tone had an edge to it.
"And here I thought we were all good friends. Guess it was just one-sided."
I frowned. Usually, a dinner party cost maybe twenty or thirty dollars per person for groceries. This time, it was going to be in the hundreds. I wasn't about to front that kind of cash.
"Money's just a bit tight for me right now," I said simply. "I probably don't have enough to cover all the ingredients myself."
Her expression changed to one of understanding. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I totally misunderstood. I'll definitely come over early on the weekend to help you out!"
That night, Mandy was active in the work group chat, asking about food allergies and telling everyone to send me the money. Seeing their excited messages, the uneasy feeling in my gut started to fade.
On the weekend, Mandy showed up late, saying something had come up. I didn't think much of it.
Everyone had a wonderful time.
At the end of the night, when I tried to refund them the leftover money, they all refused. Instead, each of them transferred another seventy-five dollars directly to my bank account.
Mandy beamed, telling me it was just a little token of their appreciation.
I was genuinely touched.
But later that night, after I'd finished cleaning the kitchen and finally sat down to rest, I got a notification. Mandy had added my personal phone number to a new group chat. It was called "The Final Withdrawal."
2
When I first started the job, I'd foolishly used my personal number for work. Kate had chewed me out for it, so I got a new number just for professional use. Everyone at work had contacted me on that number for years.
Why would she suddenly add my old, personal number to a group called "The Final Withdrawal"? I wasn't expecting any kind of deposit.
I figured maybe she'd forgotten I didn't use this number anymore and added me by mistake. I was about to message her privately when a file popped up in the chat.
It was a detailed spreadsheet documenting every single dinner party, the number of attendees, the cost of groceries for each meal, and screenshots of every single transfer they'd ever sent me.
I hadn't realized it, but over the past three years, my colleagues had come to my place for dinner more than forty times. There were holiday celebrations, promotion parties... every time, everyone had a blast and would always say, "Let's do this again soon!"
I felt a wave of nostalgia. Sometimes, workplace friendships could be truly heartwarming.
Then, Mandy started sending a flurry of voice messages.
"According to federal law, it's illegal to engage in food service operations without a license."
"If the total value of goods exceeds fifteen hundred dollars, the fine is twenty times that amount. That's the basis for our compensation claim against Clara."
Her voice was dripping with a smug, cruel satisfaction that made my mind go completely blank.
One sixty-second voice note after another kept popping up.
"Not only do we get back all the grocery money we ever gave her, but we'll each walk away with a few thousand dollars extra."
"Think about it. Fifteen hundred bucks in a savings account for three years earns you pocket change. But invested with Clara? We've hit the jackpot."
"You all should be thanking me. If it wasn't for my idea, you wouldn't be seeing any of this money."
She then coached them on how to pressure me into paying. She sent a barrage of links to food industry regulations.
"Familiarize yourselves with these. Don't mess this up when it counts. We even paid her extra on that last dinner just to push the total over the fifteen-hundred-dollar mark."
I numbly scrolled to the bottom of the spreadsheet. The grand total of all their contributions over three years.
0-0,501. The number was so precise, so deliberate. It felt like a shard of ice piercing my heart.
"Don't worry, what she did is a clear violation. She's legally liable. The twenty-times compensation is just the start. If this goes to the Health Department, they could seize her home."
"She'll pay. She has to."
Soon, others started typing. These were the same colleagues who had always been so warm and friendly to my face.
"If it wasn't for this payout, I would've stopped chipping in ages ago. Twenty bucks a person? I can get a decent lunch for fifteen."
"Mandy, you're a genius. A true accountant, always looking out for our bottom line."
"Not like that snake Clara. Charging us so much for that last dinner? She was trying to rip us off. Well, she's about to regret it!"
I couldn't believe it. The kind, friendly people I thought I knew were hiding these ugly, twisted faces.
The most laughable part? They had been planning this from the very beginning. For three years.
They were now gleefully comparing how many dinners each of them had attended, calculating how much compensation they were owed.
Watching them celebrate their victory, a chilling cold spread through my limbs. My heart felt like it was bleeding.
They were the ones who had suggested the dinners. They were the ones who had offered to split the cost of groceries.
I had never cut corners. I always chose fresh, healthy ingredients. A meal like the ones I prepared would have cost a fortune at a restaurant, but I only ever charged them about twenty dollars each, just enough to cover the food. I never even charged for my labor.
Then they got bolder, making more and more demanding requests, and I did my best to accommodate them.
One colleague, who not only attended every single dinner but also always hitched a ride with me, spoke up.
"Mandy, are you sure we can get twenty times the amount? That's like, thirty thousand dollars."
Mandy's voice note was quick and confident.
"Don't worry. I've done my homework."
She posted screenshots of every single transfer.
"All we have to do is stick to the story: she was running a business for profit, and these were payments for her catering services."
"Besides, remember how I told you all to add a note to every transfer?"
"She can't deny it. Even if she takes this to court, we have the upper hand."
It hit me then. Every time they sent me money, they'd always added a little note: "Meal Payment" or "Catering."
I thought it was just to help me keep track of the money.
I never imagined it was another piece of their trap.
The chat went quiet for a moment. Then, someone asked hesitantly.
"Mandy, isn't this a little... harsh? Maybe we could ask for just a few times the amount. Twenty seems like a lot. We all used to be friends."
Mandy's reply was swift and vicious.
"Whose side are you on? This is for all of us!"
"You were all for it when I first brought it up."
"Trying to be the good guy now? A little late for that, don't you think? Anyone who backs out now will have to deal with me."
No one else objected.
The truth of their three-year deception was laid bare before me, bloody and raw.
A cruel joke mocking my own stupidity.
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