Can We Get Our Food Packed to Go?” — A Visit I’ll Never Forget

“Will you pack the food for us to take away?” – The Unforgettable Visit

Sometimes, life throws you encounters that leave you questioning whether it was a joke or reality. Just like the recent visit from my husband’s colleague’s family—an incident I now recall with a shiver down my spine and a firm resolution never to invite “vaguely familiar nice people” into my home again.

We live in Manchester. I’m a bit of a homebody, and we have a cosy flat—small but full of character. We’ve got one daughter, Lottie, and that’s more than enough to keep our days lively. My husband is sociable, works in a project team, and often shares work stories—who said what, what jokes were made, who covered for whom. One name kept popping up: Andrew—a cheerful, energetic bloke, seemingly reliable. Always ready to help, cover a shift, or step in for a colleague. Naturally, my husband was fond of him. So when he mentioned that Andrew and his family wanted to drop by, I didn’t object. Though it did surprise me—we weren’t exactly close before.

Then, one evening, they showed up at our doorstep—Andrew, his wife Olivia, and their youngest daughter. The girl was around Lottie’s age, and I was glad the kids could play together. At first, things seemed fine. Olivia struck me as pleasant, smiling, agreeable… until she started talking. And all she talked about was one thing: kids, kids, kids. They had three, and according to her, the world owed them everything—the government should pay more, employers should grant leave on demand, and grandparents should babysit morning till night.

I listened, nodded, but inside, I was seething. I nearly blurted out, “Did you ever stop to think about the responsibility before having three?” We’ve got one child, and we know exactly what it costs—financially, emotionally, physically. So we decided one was enough for now. But they had three. And everyone else was to blame—the economy, the council, the grandparents, the school… Everyone except the people who decided to expand their family.

I kept quiet. I don’t like confrontations in my own home. Besides, the kids were playing peacefully, and my husband seemed pleased he’d arranged the gathering. As a good hostess, I’d prepared—roasted chicken, a couple of salads, a hot dish, even a homemade pie. I set the table, greeted them warmly. Though I did more listening than eating. The guests, too, hardly touched the food, and I wondered—maybe they were shy?

How wrong I was.

As dinner wound down and I mentally celebrated the leftovers—no cooking tomorrow—Olivia, sipping her squash, turned to me.

“So, you’ll pack this for us to take, right? The chicken and salads… We didn’t eat much on purpose—wanted to take it home. Can’t be bothered cooking this weekend.”

For a second, silence hung in the room. I was stunned. I couldn’t believe she’d said it out loud. Without hesitation. Without a hint of joking. She fully expected to leave with containers full of our food!

I’d never packed leftovers for anyone—it wasn’t the done thing. You bring food to guests. But for a guest to demand takeaway? And with the air of someone stating the obvious?

I glanced at my husband. He looked away. Knew how awkward this was. I forced a smile.

“Pack it? Well… I don’t have containers, just bags…”

Olivia beamed. Andrew stayed diplomatically quiet. I scraped the leftovers into two bags, handed them over. The whole time, one thought rang in my head: Never again.

After they left, my husband said, “Maybe that’s just how she is… Three kids, no time…”

I just gave a bitter laugh.

“Listen, I don’t care what people are used to. I won’t ever get used to guests like that.”

From that night on, my door stays shut to those who arrive empty-handed but full of demands. Especially those who treat my kitchen like a free takeaway.

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Can We Get Our Food Packed to Go?” — A Visit I’ll Never Forget