The “Invisible Wallet” Saga: Amy Edition
My SIL Amy (F26) is the type of person who stays at your house, uses your expensive shampoo like it’s water, and then asks, “Eh, why we never go eat at that new Michelin star place?” Every time she comes visit, my bank account starts sweating.
The pattern always the same one. We reach the restaurant, she orders the Wagyu beef and the $20 cocktail, then suddenly—“ALAMAK!” She starts patting her pockets like she’s doing a TikTok dance.
“Aiya, I think I left my wallet in the car. Sis, you help me settle first can? I PayNow you later!”
That “later” never comes, leh. It’s been three years. I think her “later” is waiting for the next GE. She even had the cheek to tell me, “Actually ah, you earn so much more than me, why you so perhitungan (calculating)? Treat your own family also must count meh?” Excuse me? My husband is her brother, but she specifically wants me to pay. Hello, I am your SIL, not your Sugar Mummy.
Last night, she booked this super atas French place where the water also costs $12. Before we left the house, I gave her the ultimate “Sister-in-Law Stare” and said, “Amy, tonight separate bills ah. Don’t say I never warn you.”
She just rolled her eyes and said, “Ya lah, ya lah, so ‘gek siao’ (dramatic).”
As we were walking out to the car, I remembered that one episode of Two and a Half Men. I told them, “Wait, I forgot my phone!” and ran back inside. I went straight to her guest room and—BINGO. Her wallet was sitting right there on her bag, looking very lonely. I “kidnapped” it and tucked it deep into my handbag.
The dinner was glorious. She ordered the truffle everything. When the waiter brought the bill, the tension in the air was thicker than the mushroom soup.
Amy started her Oscar-winning performance. She opened her empty handbag, gasped, and looked at me with those puppy eyes. “Omg… I forgot my wallet again! Sibeh suay (so unlucky). Sis, can you—”
Before she could finish, I reached into my bag, pulled out her sparkly Kate Spade wallet, and slammed it on the table like a mahjong tile. “EH, COINCIDENCE LEH! This wallet… is it yours?”
The whole restaurant went quiet. Even the waiter was trying not to laugh.
Amy’s face went from pale to “Chilli Padi” red in two seconds. She didn’t even say thank you! She started screaming that I was “low-class” for touching her things and that I invaded her privacy.
I just took a slow sip of my wine and said, “Privacy is expensive, Amy. Tonight, it costs $250. You want to pay by cash or card?”
My husband was just staring at his dessert like it was the most interesting thing in the world. Safe to say, the car ride home was very, very quiet. I think I finally cured her “Invisible Wallet” disease, but now I’m the “Evil Witch” of the family.
Worth it.