When it comes to desserts, there are three kinds of people: sugary-dessert people, fruit-dessert people and no-dessert people. I’m a sugary-dessert person, and like most sugary dessert people, I don’t get the other kinds of dessert people at all. I can almost understand no-dessert people. But fruit-dessert people? Fruit as a dessert seems like a completely wasted opportunity. If a molten chocolate lava cake is on the menu, why would you possibly order fruit? It just defies reason.
I had all this in mind when my husband and I finished dinner with one of his clients and the client’s wife. The dinner was perfectly nice. The conversation was lovely. But when it came time to order the desserts, my husband and I got a sugary dessert, because, hello, lava cake (!), while the husband got fruit, and the wife got nothing.
“Just coffee for me,” she said to the server. And then to me, “I’m trying to cut out sugar.”
I nodded respectfully at her choice to be a no-dessert person.
When my cake arrived, I went to dig in. But before I could get my fork into the cake, the no-dessert lady reached over with her fork, took a giant swipe of my cake, and then plunged it into her mouth. No, “Do you mind if I…” or, “May I have a taste of your…” She just went in with fork ablazing and cakejacked my cake. I was floored.
“Ummmm,” she swooned. “This is yummy.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said under my breath. “I haven’t tried it.”
I glanced at my husband who had his fork up in mid-air, ready to have his taste. He took one look at me and lowered his fork.
“Oh, honey,” said the no-dessert lady who was rapidly becoming someone-else’s dessert lady to her husband. “This is so good. You have to try it!”
With that she plunged her fork into my cake a second time, and then fed her husband my cake off her fork.
“Oh yeah, that’s good lava cake,” he replied licking his lips.
I went to say something but I honestly was at a loss for words. I was astounded that someone would actually have the audacity to pilfer my dessert, not one, but two times, and before I’d even had any. I wondered if I had a look about me that said, “Sure, go ahead, take my cake.”
The bigger issue, though, was not that she had shoplifted my cake, twice, but that I really couldn’t say anything about it. This was the wife of my husband’s client. She might be a cake-napper, but she was still the cake-napping wife of a client.
Fortunately, before I could say something, the client’s wife excused herself to go the bathroom and the client stepped out to make a call. Impulsively, I reached out, picked up the salt shaker, and dumped a generous amount of salt in her coffee.
My husband stared at me appalled.
“What are you doing?!?” he hissed.
I shrugged. “I’m giving her her just desserts.”
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