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Physical Address
304 North Cardinal St.
Dorchester Center, MA 02124

Every workplace has its quirks. Some offices deal with people who microwave fish. Some deal with people who love meetings a little too much. And sometimes, like in my case, you deal with coworkers who get wrapped up in their own logic so tightly that they don’t even realize they’re making no sense at all.
Recently, I had a run-in with a coworker that left me scratching my head. It wasn’t a dramatic confrontation or office politics gone wild. No, it was simply about lunch—something so mundane that you wouldn’t think it could cause confusion. But somehow, the situation unfolded in a way that made me step back and think about how people operate under stress, convenience, or habit. And it highlighted something I’ve noticed many times throughout my working life: that sometimes people speak before they think, and in doing so, they expect everyone else to go along with their version of logic.
This is the story of the day a simple lunch turned into an unnecessary puzzle of payments, urgency, and a surprising insistence that made absolutely no practical sense.
I’m not the type of person who brings lunch to work every single day. Some days I’m prepared, other days I’m scrambling to figure out where I can grab a bite. It just depends—on my schedule, my mood, how early I woke up, or whether I felt like cooking the night before.
But on this particular day, ironically, I did bring lunch from home. I walked into the office, set my things down, and settled in, not thinking twice about it. It was a pretty standard morning, the kind where nothing seems out of the ordinary. Emails, meetings, work tasks—it was business as usual.
Then my coworker approached me.
She asked, somewhat urgently, if I could help her get food that day. At first, I thought she meant literally pick up food with her or help choose a place, but then it became clear: she needed someone to pay for her lunch.
My first thought was: Oh, maybe she forgot her wallet or something. That’s not a big deal. We’ve all been there.
But things got confusing very quickly.
She explained that she had asked another employee—someone we both know, someone in the same department, someone who sits physically near her—to help her get lunch. So far, so good. That seems reasonable.
But then she said she couldn’t access her Venmo because her phone wasn’t working. Again, understandable. Technology fails us all.
Then came the twist.
She wanted me to pay the other employee back on her behalf. Immediately. Right that moment. Her reasoning? If I paid him back, she would then owe me instead of him. She insisted on making that switch as if it was some kind of urgent financial emergency.
I remember just standing there thinking, Wait. How does that change anything?
Because at the end of the day:
Nothing about the situation changed. If she owed him, she owed him. Switching the debt to me didn’t erase the fact that she couldn’t pay anyone back at that moment.
Her proposal, in my mind, didn’t solve anything—it just rearranged the same problem in a different direction.
This is where things got a little strange. She kept insisting.
She wanted to pay someone back right away—even though she couldn’t. She wanted to settle the debt instantly—even though she had no way to transfer money. And she wanted me to step in as some sort of financial intermediary, even though the person she owed money to wasn’t going anywhere.
It made absolutely no sense. And the more she tried to explain, the less logical it seemed.
It was as if she believed that owing her coworker was a crisis, but owing me was totally fine—even though the underlying issue was the same. Her Venmo didn’t work. She couldn’t send money regardless of who fronted the cost.
But somewhere in her mind, it was urgent—down to the minute urgent—that she repay the original employee right away. Never mind the fact that we all work on the same team. Never mind that she sees him every single workday. Never mind that he wasn’t even bothered by the situation.
It was a classic example of how people sometimes create their own imaginary deadlines and pressures, building a mountain out of a molehill.
In her mind, she needed to “clear” the debt immediately—even if the circumstances didn’t allow for it.
This situation made me think about something deeper: how uncomfortable some people are with the idea of owing money, even tiny amounts, even to people they see every day.
Some people treat it casually:
“Hey, I’ll get you next time.”
Done.
Some people keep a detailed mental ledger of every dollar and cent.
And then there are people like my coworker—people who feel distress when they owe someone anything, no matter how small or how temporary.
I get it. Money can be awkward. Debts can feel like burdens. Maybe she didn’t want to feel indebted to the coworker who helped her. Maybe she didn’t want him thinking she wasn’t reliable. Maybe she was worried that he’d forget she owed him and be upset later.
Who knows?
But what I learned is that people view money differently. And sometimes, their sensitivity about it creates unnecessary drama out of simple situations.
Even after she explained her reasoning, I still couldn’t wrap my head around it.
If she owed him and couldn’t pay that moment, why did it matter whether she owed him or me? If she needed time to get her Venmo working, wouldn’t the solution be the same either way?
It reminded me of situations where someone panics and reacts emotionally before thinking things through. When people get flustered, logic becomes optional. They just want to feel better in the moment, even if the solution isn’t actually a solution.
By insisting I insert myself into the exchange, she wasn’t solving anything—she was just shifting the uncertainty onto me.
And honestly? I had no interest in becoming the substitute person waiting for repayment.
One thing I’ve learned over the years—both in my personal life and at work—is that people often talk without processing. They grab onto the first idea that makes them feel in control, then defend it as if it’s the only viable option.
That’s exactly what happened here.
She wanted to resolve the matter now, even though “now” wasn’t possible for her. So she tried to create a workaround that sounded efficient in her head but didn’t hold up in reality.
I think we’ve all witnessed moments like this:
Emotion takes over, and logic takes a back seat.
This wasn’t about money. It wasn’t about lunch. It was about her discomfort and her need for immediate closure—even if that closure was artificial.
Politely, I rejected her request.
I told her that paying off the other employee made no sense because she would still owe money either way. And realistically, it would be easier if she just paid the original employee back when her phone was working again.
She didn’t argue, but she clearly still felt anxious about the situation.
But I held my ground because sometimes you simply have to let people sit with the reality of their own logic. You can’t always swoop in and fix their discomfort, especially when doing so just shifts the burden onto you.
The funny part?
The entire situation was resolved the very next day. Her phone started working. She paid the employee back. No drama. No lingering issues. No resentment.
Literally no harm, no foul.
And looking back, it makes the whole episode feel even more unnecessary.
Even though this was a small, low-stakes event, it made me reflect on something we often overlook in daily life:
And when emotion drives decisions, things can get confusing:
At the end of the day, my coworker wasn’t wrong for wanting to pay people back. That’s actually admirable. But the urgency, the insistence, the convoluted workaround—those stemmed from the uncomfortable feeling of owing someone money and wanting control over the situation.
Her intent was good. Her execution? Confusing.
And honestly, that’s just human nature.
What I took away from this experience is that not every tiny problem needs an immediate solution. Some issues naturally sort themselves out—like a glitchy phone, a Venmo login that randomly breaks, or a $10 lunch debt between colleagues who see each other every day.
Sometimes, the best thing you can do is step back, breathe, and recognize that waiting a little doesn’t actually hurt anyone.
And when a coworker insists on a roundabout solution that makes no sense, sometimes the kindest thing you can do is gently decline and let them realize it on their own.
In the end, the lunch was eaten, the debt was paid, and life moved on. The only thing left behind was a funny reminder that people don’t always think before they speak—and that even the simplest workplace moments can turn into unexpected lessons in communication, logic, and patience.