My husband, who earns less than me, insisted I take a second job because he thought my remote work wasn’t as exhausting as his. He’s a mechanic with more days off, yet refused to get a second job himself, saying he’d miss bowling with friends. Frustrated, I decided to take a second job — but one that would teach him a lesson. I became a bartender at his favorite bowling alley, right where he spends his free time!


In our home, I make more money, and that had never been a problem—until recently. My husband, Tom, started pressuring me to get a second job, insisting that I wasn’t as tired as he was because I worked from home.

“You don’t even leave the house, Lisa. You can’t be as exhausted as I am,” he would say. Tom, a mechanic who runs his own shop, took several days off each week while I worked long hours at a computer.

I found his reasoning ridiculous, but the conversation persisted. He kept pushing for a second job, especially when we decided to upgrade our car. “You need to get that second job,” he insisted during dinner one night, while cutting into his steak. I asked him why he didn’t take on extra work, given that he had more time off.

“Because then I’d miss bowling with my friends!” he said, as if that was the most logical answer in the world.

Seriously?

Annoyed but curious, I decided to take action. Instead of resisting, I agreed to find a second job—just not the kind of job Tom would expect. I applied for a position at the bowling alley where he and his friends spent their free time. I wanted to teach him a lesson, to show him that his suggestion might not be as innocent as he thought.

On the night of my first shift, which happened to coincide with Tom’s bowling night, I put on the uniform: a tight, short dress that left little to the imagination. I was curious how Tom would react to seeing me there, working in an outfit I knew he wouldn’t approve of.

When he walked in, his eyes locked onto me instantly. His face went pale, then flushed with anger.

“What the hell, Lisa?” he stormed over, glaring at me. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m working, Tom,” I replied with a smirk. “You wanted me to get a second job, remember?”

“This isn’t what I meant!” he yelled, his voice full of frustration. But I calmly retorted, “Well, I’m getting great tips.”

He clenched his jaw but went back to his bowling game, glancing at me every few minutes. The tension was palpable, and I was certain that the real argument would come after my shift ended.

Midway through the night, Ursula, the manager, approached me. “Is he bothering you?” she asked, nodding toward Tom.

Confused, I asked what she meant. Ursula sighed. “That guy has been seducing waitresses here for months. One even had his child recently.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My husband, Tom, was involved with the waitresses? And one had his baby? This was the real reason he was pushing me for a second job—to pay for child support.

Furious, I stormed over to Tom, slapping him hard across the face in front of everyone.

“You’re a disgusting human!” I screamed. “One of the waitresses had your baby?”

His face went pale as he tried to explain, but I wasn’t having it. “I don’t care,” I said through tears. “You will pack your things tonight. Tomorrow, I’ll be filing for divorce.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked out of the bowling alley, my heart shattered. I had no idea who I had been married to all these years.


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