The department dinner had barely ended when the new intern dropped a message in the group chat. An "afternoon coffee schedule," no less, and she'd tagged me by name:

"Hey Matilda Chavez, you make the most money and get the biggest bonuses in the department, so from now on you're in charge of our daily afternoon coffee run."

"Starting today, everything needs to be ready by 3 PM. Milk tea, coffee, pastries, the works. Minimum $50 per person. I'll decide the specific orders."

I stared at those lines and laughed out of sheer disbelief.

I'd always kept a low profile at work. All I'd done was mention at dinner that I'd finished paying off my mortgage, and this girl had latched onto it, trying to turn me into the department's personal ATM.

I typed two words in the group chat: Dream on.

The next afternoon, a delivery guy showed up at my desk with a mountain of drinks and pastries, asking me to pay.

……

I stared at that coffee schedule in the group chat again, so furious I actually laughed out loud.

A brand-new intern who'd been here all of five minutes had overheard one sentence at a department dinner and decided she was in charge of everyone's lifestyle.

I had zero interest in engaging with someone like that. I'd already shut it down in the chat. But the second lunch break ended, Mercedes Brady came sauntering over to my desk with a cup in hand, her face a picture of wide-eyed innocence.

"Matilda, you saw the message in the group chat, right?"

"The afternoon coffee run is all yours from now on. You make so much more than the rest of us. This kind of money is nothing to you."

She said it loud enough for the entire floor to hear. The moment the words left her mouth, every head in the vicinity swiveled toward me, eyes gleaming with the unmistakable thrill of spectators at a car wreck.

"Oh, and it needs to be ready by 3 PM."

"Milk tea, 70% sugar. Coffee has to be made with oat milk. And don't cheap out on the pastries. Minimum $50 a head."

"I've already collected everyone's preferences. I'll send you the list in a bit."

She rattled it all off like she was spending Monopoly money, not mine.

I looked at her, genuinely baffled. How did an intern who hadn't even made it past probation develop skin this thick?

All I'd done was casually mention at last night's dinner that I'd used my most recent paycheck to clear my mortgage, and today she had the nerve to climb right over me with it.

Even more ridiculous was the way she talked. An unpaid intern issuing orders like she owned the company.

I rolled my eyes and didn't bother sugarcoating it.

"Mercedes, you're an intern and you're worried about the department's coffee order? Sounds like you don't have enough actual work to do."

"Instead of scheming up ways to spend my money, maybe put that energy into your job. Otherwise you won't have to worry about coffee runs because you won't be here long enough to drink one."

I figured that would be enough to make her back off, at least a little.

Instead, her expression darkened and her voice shot up a full octave.

"Matilda, seriously? It's just a few afternoon drinks."

"You already paid off your mortgage. What are you hoarding all that money for? Treating your coworkers to a coffee now and then isn't going to kill you."

"Besides, I'm doing this for team morale. Everyone's working themselves to death around here. You pitch in a little so people can enjoy themselves, and that's a problem?"

By the end of her little speech she'd puckered her lips into a wounded pout, the picture of a selfless do-gooder crushed by my heartless penny-pinching.

A few colleagues who'd never liked me nodded along on cue.

Conrad Dickerson, the guy who never once paid for his own coffee but always had a cup in hand, let out a chuckle.

"Come on, Matilda, don't be so tight-fisted. We're all on the same team here."

A woman at the next desk chimed in right behind him.

"Mercedes is just trying to be nice. You make a little more than the rest of us. Would it really hurt to look out for everyone?"

I almost laughed.

Just like that, Mercedes had talked her way into rebranding my paycheck as the department's communal slush fund.

I'd be the one footing the bill and doing all the work, and somehow Mercedes would get all the credit for being thoughtful.

I was about to speak up when the department manager poked his head out of his office, wearing an expression of fatherly concern that made my skin crawl.

"We're all colleagues here, Matilda. Don't make this ugly."

"Besides, Mercedes was only thinking of you. You earn more than most of us. Treating everyone to a coffee run wouldn't even dent your paycheck."

My stomach turned.

My salary was higher than most, sure, but higher than a department manager's? Not a chance.

I was done wasting my breath. I slammed my laptop shut, kept my face blank, and said one thing:

"If anyone wants coffee, they can buy their own. I'm not paying."

What I didn't expect was the delivery guy showing up the next afternoon, arms loaded with two overstuffed bags, asking,

"Are you Matilda Chavez? Twenty-eight drinks. You paying by app or cash?"

Twenty-eight drinks. All Starbucks.

The delivery guy's voice carried across the entire open-plan office.

Heads swiveled. Conrad was the fastest, craning his neck until he spotted the logo on the bags. His eyes lit up like a kid on Christmas morning.

I stared at those two bulging bags, and the anger looped all the way past fury and came out the other side as dead calm.

"I didn't order these. Whoever did can pay for them."

The delivery guy blinked.

"The person who placed the order said Matilda Chavez is covering it. Said it's her treat."

Before I could respond, a saccharine voice floated up from behind me.

"Oh, they're here already?"

I turned around. Mercedes, of course.

She stood with her arms crossed, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

"Come on, Matilda. The drinks are already here. All you have to do is settle the tab. You're not really going to make this poor delivery guy run back for nothing, are you?"

Her words were wrapped in politeness, but her tone dripped entitlement, as if spending my money were the most natural thing in the world.

I stared at her, cold and unblinking.

"Who told you I agreed to this?"

Mercedes blinked, all wide-eyed innocence.

"Everyone's been waiting. I figured last night was just you blowing off steam. You wouldn't seriously embarrass the whole department over a few dollars, would you?"

The words barely left her mouth before several colleagues had already torn open the bags.

I almost laughed. The bill hadn't been paid and they were already helping themselves. Did they really take me for a pushover?

I pressed my hand down on the bag, and my voice dropped to ice.

"You want afternoon coffee? Fine. Whoever drinks, pays. But don't pin it on me. I'm not covering a single cent."

The smug grin slid right off Mercedes's face. She hadn't expected me to shut her down in front of the entire office without leaving her an inch of dignity.

Her eyes narrowed, glaring at me.

"Matilda, seriously? It's barely a thousand bucks. What fraction of your salary is that? Do you really need to nickel-and-dime everyone like this?"

"Be generous for once. Think of it as building goodwill. Don't throw away an opportunity like that."

I nearly choked on a laugh at her twisted logic.

So refusing to bankroll their coffee habit made me cheap, and somehow I was supposed to thank her for the privilege?

I turned straight to the delivery guy.

"I didn't place this order, and I'm not paying. Find whoever ordered it and collect from them. If they won't pay, call the police."

Mercedes's expression flickered, and a thin edge of threat crept into her voice.

"Matilda, have you lost your mind? Calling the cops during work hours? Are you trying to ruin someone's career?"

"We all work in the same department. We see each other every single day. You humiliate everyone today, how do you plan on showing your face tomorrow? And just so you know, I placed this order as a department event. The manager already signed off on it."

I narrowed my eyes.

"The manager signed off on it?"

Mercedes's confidence swelled back.

"I told him this morning. He even said I was great at boosting team morale, and that someone with your salary should've been treating everyone ages ago. If you refuse to pay now, it's not just my face you're slapping. It's the entire department's."

The words barely left her mouth before a colleague next to me, someone I'd always gotten along with, tugged at my sleeve.

"Matilda, just let it go. Mercedes isn't someone you want to cross. Her cousin's in admin, and the manager has her back. If you make an enemy of her today, she'll never let it rest."

"Why don't you just pay this time? Think of it as spending a little to avoid a lot of trouble."

It was my money. Since when did anyone else get a say in how I avoided trouble?

I thanked her for the concern, but I didn't waver for a second.

"I'll say this one last time. I didn't place that order, and I'm not paying a single cent."

"Whoever wants a drink can scan the code and pay for it themselves. Stop using my salary to make yourselves look generous."

The office went dead silent. The people who'd been scrambling to rip open the packaging a moment ago pulled their hands back like they'd been burned, lips curling in distaste.

"Who'd even want one? Eighty bucks for a coffee? That's insane."

Mercedes's face cycled between white and green. A few seconds passed, and then she laughed.

"Fine, Matilda. You've got backbone. Let's see if you're still this tough tomorrow."

The next morning, the break room was unusually crowded.

Mercedes spotted me and raised her voice on purpose.

"Some people love bragging about how they've already paid off their mortgage, but they can't even treat the team to an afternoon coffee run. Yesterday the whole department lost face because of her. I honestly can't figure out what goes on in her head."

Someone chimed in immediately.

"So what if she makes good money? With that kind of stinginess, who'd respect her?"

A cluster of them huddled together, snickering under their breath.

I set my bag on my desk and walked straight over.

"Are you done?"

The break room fell quiet. Mercedes didn't look the least bit guilty. If anything, she let out a deliberate sigh.

"Matilda, don't get the wrong idea. I'm not singling you out. I just think we're all in the same department, seeing each other every day. There's really no need to take things this far."

I looked at her, and the words came out dry as bone.

"Far? Spending my money to buy yourself goodwill. Now that's taking things far."

Mercedes's expression flickered.

"Matilda, that's a pretty ugly thing to say. I was trying to do something nice for the team. Everyone's been working hard, and I thought it'd lift the mood. But you? You made a scene in front of the delivery guy and embarrassed the entire department."

A few of the colleagues who'd been tearing into those bags yesterday jumped right in.

"Seriously, it was such a small thing. Why blow it up like that?"

"I ended up spending an extra hundred bucks, and my husband chewed me out for wasting money when I got home!"

I almost laughed from the sheer absurdity.

Nobody forced them to drink a thing. They didn't get their freebie, and suddenly they were the victims.

"So what you're all saying is, I owe you an apology?"

Conrad put on his best peacemaker face.

"Matilda, no need to be so harsh. Mercedes meant well. You're doing better than most of us. Would it kill you to look out for the team once in a while?"

I rolled my eyes.

"Then why don't you look out for them? Your numbers were the highest in the department last month."

Conrad's mouth opened and closed. Nothing came out.

Another woman picked up the slack without missing a beat.

"That's completely different. Conrad's got a family to support, a wife and kids. Not like you. Thirty years old and still single. If you're not the one treating, who should be?"

A cold weight settled in my chest.

In their eyes, being thirty and unmarried made me the easiest target in the room.

Mercedes watched the crowd rally to her side, and the triumph in her eyes was barely contained.

"Matilda, why put yourself through this? You already offended the whole department yesterday. If you still won't admit you were wrong today, the only person who's going to suffer is you."

"Trust me. All it takes is one word from me about you not being a team player, and the manager will make sure your performance bonus and your client list both take a hit this quarter. And when that happens, not a single person here will have your back."