The Bride Demanded a Last-Minute Change. Her Lawyer Fiancé Fired the Caterer. But Karma Was Already Being Served.
The day before the wedding, everything blew up.
The bride made a sudden demand. Her lawyer fiancé backed her up and fired the caterer on the spot. But what they didn’t realize was—they were messing with someone who wasn’t going down without a fight. And karma? Oh, it was already getting ready to serve a full plate.
At the time, I was managing a catering company for my boss, Tom. He was going through chemotherapy, and he trusted me to run things while he focused on getting better. This wedding job was my first big event fully in my hands.
And wow… I learned more in three days about people than I had in my entire ten years in food service.
The contract was simple: 150 steak dinners at $50 each. Nothing fancy, just good food at a premium price.
I had handled everything—menu tastings, meetings, and signing the contract. Tom couldn’t be involved much because the chemo made even the smell of food too much for him.
So yeah, no pressure.
Everything was going perfectly. That is, until 1 p.m. the day before the wedding. I was in the kitchen watching the team prep when my phone rang.
The name “Camille” lit up the screen. My stomach instantly sank.
I had that gut feeling—the one that says, this isn’t going to end well.
As always, I hit record before answering. It was our company policy for business calls.
“Hello, Camille! How can I help you today?” I said, trying to sound cheerful and professional.
Her voice was tight, tense. “Listen, we need to change the menu.”
That alone was a red flag. But it got worse.
“Blake and I have been talking, and we want seafood now. Something elegant. Like salmon or sea bass.”
I looked around the kitchen. Six staff members were already slicing, seasoning, and preparing steaks.
“Camille, I’m so sorry, but the contract doesn’t allow changes within a month of the event. We’ve already bought and started prepping all the food.”
“Are you serious right now?” she snapped, her voice rising. “This is MY wedding! We’re paying you almost $8,000!”
“I understand that, and we really want to make your day special, but—”
“Do you understand English?” she suddenly barked. “I said we want to change the menu! What don’t you get? Are you stupid or something?”
I rubbed my forehead, trying to stay calm.
“Camille, we agreed in the contract—”
“My fiancé is a lawyer! We’ll sue you into the ground!”
And then, suddenly, a man’s voice came through the phone.
“This is Blake. Who am I speaking with?”
His voice was sharp and full of attitude. Definitely a lawyer type.
“This is Sarah, the catering manager. I was explaining to Camille—”
“Let me make something clear. This is my wedding. I get what I want. I don’t care what your contract says.”
“Sir,” I said calmly, “we’ve already bought the food. The steaks are being trimmed right now.”
“Then un-trim them!” he snapped. “We’re the clients!”
“Sir, the agreement clearly states—”
“You know what? You’re fired. We don’t want your service anymore.”
I felt frozen for a second. Then a rush of heat hit me—anger, stress, disbelief.
“Sir,” I said tightly, “as stated in the cancellation clause, if you cancel within 24 hours, you’re still responsible for paying 90% of the total.”
He laughed—a nasty, arrogant laugh.
“Good luck getting that money. We’ll hire someone else and make you pay the difference.”
And then—click. He hung up.
I looked around. The kitchen had gone silent. All six staff members had stopped and were staring at me.
“So,” said Miguel, our best line cook. “Do we stop prepping?”
I stared at the steaks, the sides being chopped, the sauces simmering.
Then I made a decision.
“No,” I said. “Keep going. Do everything as planned.”
Leila looked confused. “But… they just fired us?”
“I know,” I said. “Trust me on this one.”
Everyone gave me strange looks, but no one argued. We kept working until midnight. I sent the crew home and told them to be ready the next day.
That night, I barely slept. My stomach twisted with worry.
What if they really did hire someone else? What if I messed everything up?
At 7 a.m., my phone rang. Blake.
“Hello?” I said, voice groggy.
“You better be at the venue today,” he snapped. “Or we’ll sue you for breach of contract.”
I sat up, instantly alert.
“Sir, you terminated the contract yesterday. According to clause 9, we retain 90% of the payment. If you want catering now, it’s a new contract. Same-day service is triple the rate. Payment upfront. Menu is based on what we already have, and we reserve the right to say no.”
Dead silence.
“That’s extortion!” he finally shouted.
“No, sir. That’s called business. You can take it or leave it.”
Another long pause.
“…Fine,” he growled. “But the menu needs to be seafood.”
“No can do,” I said. “The menu is what we prepped: steak. Take it or leave it.”
“This is ridiculous! I’m a paying customer!”
“And we can refuse service if you keep yelling. So what’s it going to be? Steak for $22,000—or nothing at all?”
He sighed loudly. “Fine. Steak. But it better be perfect.”
“It always is. We’ll be there at noon. Have the check ready.”
I emailed him the invoice and loaded the vans.
We arrived on time. The wedding planner looked so relieved to see us. I saw Camille pacing back and forth in her white gown, phone glued to her ear.
Before we took out a single tray, I went up to Blake, who was sweating in a tux that probably cost more than my car.
“Before we serve anything, I need the signed contract and full payment,” I said, handing him the papers.
He scowled as he looked them over.
“This is highway robbery,” he muttered, but signed.
Then I drove straight to the bank and deposited the check.
But when I got back, I was furious.
Jen, my assistant manager, ran over to me.
“Sarah, Blake’s been threatening staff,” she whispered. “He told Miguel that if anything goes wrong, he’ll have him deported.”
“What?! Miguel was born in San Diego!”
“I know,” she said. “Miguel told him that, and Blake just laughed and said, ‘We’ll see about that.’”
Steam just about poured out of my ears.
I stormed over to Blake, who was laughing with a group of groomsmen.
“Threaten my staff again, and we leave,” I said loudly so guests nearby could hear. “Contract or not.”
“I didn’t threaten—” he started.
“Don’t. I don’t need your money that bad. Are we clear?”
He glared at me, but then gave a small, stiff nod.
The rest of the wedding went perfectly. The steaks were amazing, the service flawless.
Guests kept saying, “This food is amazing!” and “You guys are the best caterers I’ve ever seen!”
Meanwhile, Camille and Blake didn’t even look me in the eye.
Three weeks later? I got a letter. Blake was suing us—for “predatory pricing” and “breach of contract.”
I didn’t even flinch. I handed everything over to our lawyer: the signed contracts, the phone recordings (which clients agreed to in our terms), and proof of payment.
The judge looked over the case and dismissed it immediately.
Then he looked over his glasses and said, “The court doesn’t appreciate bullies. Especially ones who should know better, given their profession.”
Blake not only lost the case, he had to pay all our legal fees.
Six months later, Tom came back to work part-time. When I told him the whole story, he laughed so hard he nearly cried.
“You made more on that one wedding than I’d have made on three!” he said between laughs. “Maybe I should get sick more often!”
“Don’t you dare,” I warned him.
Last week, I got curious and looked up Camille and Blake on Facebook.
Divorced.
Not even three years after that ridiculously expensive wedding.
Guess some things don’t last… but karma? Oh, it always shows up on time.
