Every time Jason and I go grocery shopping, his phone magically rings at checkout. “Oh babe, I gotta take this,” he says, vanishing — and leaving me to pay. It happened so often, I knew it wasn’t coincidence. It was a pattern. Last week, after another $347 bill, I’d had enough. So I made a plan. The night before our next trip, I changed my contact name in Jason’s phone to “Bank Fraud Department” and set up a fake call using a recorded message. When the time came and his phone rang at checkout,

he did his usual “I gotta take this”—until he saw who was calling. Panic. Confusion. And then, pure humiliation as my voice played through his phone:“Hello, Jason. We’ve detected suspicious behavior — pretending to get a call every time it’s your turn to pay.” The cashier,stifled a laugh. Shoppers behind us giggled. Jason turned red — and finally paid the $389 total himself. On the way home, he said, “That was low, Lauren.”I replied sweetly,“Lower than bailing at checkout for months?” He got the message. No more fake calls. Now he even insists on paying — phone on the counter, just to prove he’s cured. Justice, delivered aisle by aisle.