Shortened Version (without losing the core story or tone):
I should’ve known something was off when we arrived at the Belmont Estate—stunning venue, but no valet in sight. Jake parked the car himself, and we walked up in our fancy outfits, only to be grabbed by Sarah, the bride, who was clearly panicked.
“Thank God you’re here!” she said, dragging us aside. Soon, she and her fiancé Tom dropped the bomb: the wedding staff had bailed. No caterers, no bartenders, no cleaners. Their solution? Put the guests to work.
They handed us task lists. Mine included setting up chairs, serving appetizers, and cleaning bathrooms hourly. Sarah chirped, “Just a little favor!” We reluctantly agreed—mistake number one.
The ceremony was lovely. The reception prep? Not so much. Sarah turned into a drill sergeant, barking orders while her family sipped champagne. One guest even scolded me for mishandling centerpieces. Meanwhile, Jake and I sweated through tasks while being told to fold napkins into swans.
In a brief water break, the overworked “helpers” regrouped. We realized there were no staff replacements coming—and we were still expected to give expensive gifts. That’s when we decided: no gifts. Our “services” were our gift.
Later, as Sarah and Tom prepared to open presents, I stood up and told them we’d be keeping our money in exchange for our work. Sarah exploded. In her fury, she stumbled—right into the wedding cake.
Covered in frosting, she shrieked while we laughed (yes, we laughed), then walked out—25 guests-turned-workers, dignity and wallets intact.
In the parking lot, someone suggested drinks. Real drinks. Made by actual staff. Best wedding escape ever.
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