Part 1Noodle Extortion

A new spicy noodle bar opened downstairs.

Not feeling like cooking, I dragged my boyfriend over to give it a try.

When it was time to pay, I was floored. The bill was two hundred and eighty-eight dollars.

I immediately confronted the waitress.

"I had potatoes and cabbage, not lobster and filet mignon! You've made a mistake with the price."

The waitress just rolled her eyes, her chin tilted defiantly high.

"If you can't afford it, why are you eating out? Are you trying to dine and dash?"

I had no interest in arguing with someone so unreasonable. I told her to get her boss.

But before the waitress could even respond, my own boyfriend turned on me, his voice sharp with anger.

"You eat, you pay. It's common sense. What's the big deal, bullying a young girl like this? Just pay the bill! You're so embarrassing!"

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. When I got home, I threw the bastard’s things out the door.

"Get out," I told him. "I'm done being your sucker."

—

Slumped on the sofa after work, I scrolled endlessly through a food delivery app, unable to decide what to eat.

My boyfriend, Nick, thought for a moment. "That new spicy noodle bar downstairs? Want to go check it out?" he suggested.

It solved my dilemma.

The shop was clean and simple. We were past the dinner rush, so there weren't many customers. The vegetables in the selection bar looked a little wilted, probably because we'd arrived so late.

A young waitress approached us with a bright smile. "We also have deluxe options, with fresh seafood. Would you like to try some?"

I quickly shook my head, declining.

Nick and I filled our bowls with our choices, handed them to the young waitress, and took a number to our table.

When the noodle bowls arrived, the broth looked surprisingly light. I like my food with a kick, so I called the waitress over to ask for some extra chili oil and seasoning.

She had already turned to leave.

"If it's not enough, you can always add more ingredients later," she said over her shoulder. "Any more sauce and it'll be way too salty."

Her words left me speechless for a few seconds. Before I could think of a reply, the cashier called out to her.

"Fiona, come over here and show me how to ring this up."

The waitress, Fiona, called back an "Okay!" and walked away.

Nick was already eating. He looked up from his bowl, frowning. "It tastes fine. Stop being so picky."

A knot of irritation tightened in my chest. I silently pulled out my phone, snapped a picture of my bowl and Nick's, and sent it to my friends' group chat with a warning to steer clear.

Nick finished first and went outside for a smoke. I went to the counter to pay.

And that's when it happened.

"That'll be two hundred eighty-eight dollars. Credit or debit?"

My eyes went wide. I thought I must have misheard. Did she think we'd ordered the deluxe seafood platters?

I immediately called Fiona back over.

"I had potatoes and cabbage, not lobster and filet mignon! You've got the price wrong."

Fiona’s sunny expression instantly clouded over, her face falling into a long, sour mask. I took a deep breath, trying to de-escalate.

Fiona waved the cashier away and picked up the bill herself. She glanced at it, then looked at me.

"This is the price. There's no mistake. This is what you ate."

I couldn't believe it. Was this some kind of restaurant shakedown?