A coworker kept asking me to grab her coffee on the way in, but she never paid me back. One day, I brought her an empty cup and the receipt…
Liza and I worked in neighboring departments, and since we took the same route from the metro to the business center, I always stopped by a coffee shop in the mornings for a cappuccino.
One day we ran into each other at the entrance.
“Oh, you’re heading to the coffee shop?” Liza said. “Listen, could you get me a latte, please? I’m running late for the morning meeting and don’t have time to stop in. I left my card in my jacket at the office, but I’ll transfer the money to you right away.”
A coworker was asking for a favor, and it was only about $0.74. I bought it, brought it to her, and she took the cup with a grateful smile and rushed off to work.
She never transferred the money that day. “She probably forgot,” I thought. It felt awkward to remind a grown woman with a good salary over such a small amount, so I decided to let that little debt go for the sake of keeping a good relationship.
But two days later, the same thing happened again.
“You’re going there anyway, so grab me a raf too, okay? I’ll send you the money for last time and this time together, so I don’t have to make two transfers.”
And again I bought it. Saying “no” felt harder than just tapping my card at the terminal. After all, we were coworkers.
A month went by, and Liza no longer even asked whether I was going to the coffee shop. She would just message me: “Coconut milk for mine today, pls.”
During that time, she paid me back exactly once, for one cup. Meanwhile, she already owed me for seven or eight, and every time she had some excuse:
“Oh, the bank app froze.”
“Listen, I only have large bills, I’ll break one later and pay you back.”
“I’ll send it tonight from home, the internet is better there.”
But evening would come, and no payment notification ever showed up.
I started getting angry. I felt like a personal courier who was also subsidizing the service. Meanwhile, she was buying herself new dresses, ordering lunch delivery, and talking about her vacation. So clearly, she had money.
My patience finally ran out on Tuesday. As usual, I stopped for coffee. My phone buzzed: “Grab a croissant with the coffee too, I didn’t have breakfast.”
No “please,” no “hello,” just an order for the service staff.
I stood at the counter, looking at the barista.
“One cappuccino for me,” I said. “And, if you would, one empty cup with a lid. And please ring up the receipt separately.”
I walked into the office. Liza was sitting at her desk, chatting with someone on the phone. When she saw me, she waved, cutting the conversation short.
“Oh, finally, I’m falling asleep here.”
The office was quiet. Coworkers were tapping at their keyboards, someone was drinking tea. I walked up to Lena’s desk, placed the cup in front of her, and beside it put the long receipt rolled into a tube, with the total for the month already marked in pen.
“Your coffee,” I said loudly.
Liza grabbed the cup and automatically lifted it to her lips, but immediately stopped. It didn’t feel right. She took off the lid and looked inside. The cup was empty.
“I don’t get it,” she said, looking up at me. “Did you drink it, or spill it?… Continued in the comments.
Lisa and I worked in neighboring departments, and our routes from the metro to the business center were the same, so every morning I would stop by a coffee shop for a cappuccino.
One day we ran into each other at the entrance.
“Oh, are you going to the coffee shop?” Lisa said. “Listen, grab me a latte, please. I’m running late for the morning meeting and don’t have time to stop by. I left my card in my jacket at the office, but I’ll transfer you the money right away.”
A coworker was asking for a favor, and it was only a little over two dollars. I bought it, brought it to her, and she took the cup with a grateful smile and rushed off to work.
She never sent the money that day. She must have forgotten, I thought. I felt awkward reminding a grown woman with a good salary about two dollars, so I decided to let that small debt slide for the sake of a good relationship.
But two days later, it happened again.
“You’re going there anyway, right? Grab me a raf coffee, okay? I’ll send you the money for last time and this time together, so I don’t have to transfer it twice.”
And once again I bought it. Saying no felt harder than tapping my card on the terminal. We were coworkers, after all.
How long could this go on?
A month passed. Lisa no longer even asked whether I was going to the coffee shop. She would just text me in the messenger: “Get mine with coconut milk today, pls.”
During that time, she paid me back exactly once — for one cup. Meanwhile, by then she already owed me for seven or eight, and every single time she had an excuse.
“Oh, Sber is glitching.”
“Listen, I only have large bills on me. I’ll break one and pay you back.”
“I’ll send it tonight from home, the internet is better there.”
But evening would come, and there would be no notification of any transfer.
I was getting angry. I felt like a personal courier who was also paying out of pocket for the privilege of doing the job. Meanwhile, she was buying herself new dresses, ordering food delivery for lunch, talking about her vacation. So she clearly had money.
My patience finally snapped on a Tuesday. As usual, I stopped for coffee. My phone buzzed:
“Grab a croissant with the coffee too, I didn’t have breakfast.”
No “please,” no “hi,” just an order to the service staff.
I stood at the counter looking at the barista.
“One cappuccino for me,” I said. “And, if you would, one empty cup with a lid. And please ring up the receipt separately.”
“Where is it?”
I walked into the office. Lisa was sitting at her desk, chatting with someone on the phone. When she saw me, she waved, cutting herself off mid-conversation.
“Oh, finally, I was about to fall asleep.”
The office was quiet. Coworkers were tapping on keyboards, someone was drinking tea. I walked over to Lena’s desk, placed the cup in front of her, and beside it I laid a long receipt rolled into a tube, on which I had already highlighted the monthly total with a marker.
“Your coffee,” I said loudly.
Lisa grabbed the cup and automatically lifted it to her lips, but immediately stopped — the weight was wrong. She took off the lid and looked inside. The cup was empty.
“I don’t get it,” she said, looking up at me. “Did you drink it, or spill it?”
“No,” I answered calmly, looking her straight in the eye. “I didn’t buy it.”
“What do you mean?” Her voice went higher. “I asked you for it, I was counting on it!”
“Lena,” I said, trying to keep my voice level and free of hysterics, “that cup contains exactly as much coffee as you paid for over the past month.”
She flushed red with anger.
“Are you kidding me? You’re putting on a circus over a few pennies? I told you I’d pay you back!”
And then I pulled out my trump card — a printout from my banking app, where I had highlighted all the purchases from that coffee shop over the month when I had bought two drinks instead of one.
“These aren’t pennies,” I said, pointing at the total. “This is $28.31 — that’s ten cups of coffee and two desserts. Coffee will appear in your cup the exact moment that amount lands on my card. Until then, enjoy your meal.”
I turned around and walked back to my desk. A minute later my phone buzzed. It was a bank notification: a deposit of $28.31.
How much is peace of mind worth?
Of course, the situation did not pass without consequences. The office, as usually happens, split into two camps.
The first group came up to me in the smoking area or the kitchen.
“Honestly, good for you. She borrowed money from me half a year ago ‘until payday’ and now avoids looking me in the eye.”
“You put her in her place. She’s gotten used to riding into paradise on other people’s backs.”
Others whispered that I was hysterical, petty, and that “I could have just reminded her — why humiliate a person like that?”
“So what, the girl forgot. It happens to everyone. Why make such a show out of it?”
But from that day on, Lena stopped “forgetting” her wallet. More than that, she stopped talking to me altogether, limiting herself to a dry nod.
And that was the best outcome I could have hoped for. You could say I bought my peace of mind for the price of one empty cup.
I can also make it read more naturally for an American audience by rounding the money to about $2.50 and about $28 throughout.