My stingy cousin forced me to slog through ten hours at his wedding for pocket change—so I gave him an experience he’ll never forget

When my cousin Brandon hired me as his wedding photographer for pocket change, he thought he was getting a steal. By the end of the night, I gave him and his bride a memory they’ll never forget. And it wasn’t the kind they wanted framed.

I never thought my love for dogs would lead to the biggest family drama of my life. But here we are.

I’m Alice, and I’ve been a professional dog groomer for the past five years.

It’s not just a job for me. It’s my passion.

There’s something magical about transforming a scruffy, anxious pup into a confident, beautiful dog. The before-and-after shots are incredible, and that’s where my photography hobby started.

Every client gets the full treatment. After I finish grooming, I take professional-quality photos of each dog.

Honestly, I’ve gotten pretty good at it over the years. The lighting, the angles, the timing… it’s all part of my brand.

I post the polished results on Instagram and have built a decent following. Dog owners love seeing their babies look like models, and I love making them feel special.

But here’s the problem with being decent at photography: people always assume a camera equals “photographer.” My family especially loves to praise my “amazing talent” whenever they see my Instagram posts.

“Alice, you’re so gifted!” my aunt would say at family gatherings. “These photos look like they belong in magazines!”

I always took it as a compliment. I mean, who doesn’t like being told they’re good at something? That was until my cousin Brandon reached out to me.

Brandon is my aunt Sarah’s son, and we’re not exactly close. We see each other at Christmas dinner and maybe a birthday party here and there. Pleasant enough conversations, but nothing deep. He’s always been the type to charm his way through life, and honestly, I never paid much attention to him.

So, when Brandon and his fiancée Maya got engaged last spring, I was surprised when they reached out to me out of the blue.

“Alice! We love your work so much,” Maya gushed over the phone. “You’re so talented with that camera. And listen, we just don’t have the budget for a professional photographer right now.”

My stomach dropped a little. I could already see where this was going.

“It would mean a lot to us,” Brandon chimed in. “It’s just for a few hours. And we’ll totally pay you. Like, $250?”

$250? I thought. That’s nothing for a wedding.

“Guys, I really appreciate you thinking of me, but I’m not comfortable shooting weddings,” I said. “I shoot dogs, not people. Definitely not once-in-a-lifetime events where there are no do-overs.”

But Maya kept pushing. Her voice got that edge that makes you want to hang up the phone.

“Come on, Alice. You already take photos all day anyway. It’s not like it’s that different. And we honestly can’t afford anyone else right now. You’d be saving us. Family helps family, right?”

That night, I sat at my kitchen table with my dad, picking at leftover Chinese takeout.

Dad and I have always been close.

He’s been my best friend since Mom passed away when I was 22. We talk about everything, and I mean everything.

“So, Brandon and Maya want me to photograph their wedding,” I told him, explaining the whole conversation.

Dad put down his chopsticks and looked at me thoughtfully. “$250 for a whole wedding? That’s pretty low, sweetheart.”

“I know, right? But they’re saying they’re broke.”

“Well,” Dad said slowly, “they are family. And if they’re really struggling with money, maybe it’s something you could do as a favor. Brandon is your cousin, after all.” He paused. “But it’s completely up to you, Alice. Don’t let anyone pressure you into something you’re not comfortable with.”

I appreciated that Dad wasn’t pushing me either way. He just laid out the facts and left the decision to me.

I went to bed that night feeling torn. Part of me wanted to help family, but another part of me knew I was getting in over my head.

The next morning, I stared at my phone for ten minutes before finally texting Brandon and Maya.

“Okay, I’ll do it. But I want to be clear. I’m a dog groomer, not a wedding photographer. I’ll do my best, but no guarantees.”

Maya’s response came back immediately. “OMG THANK YOU!!! You’re amazing! This is going to be perfect!”

Perfect. Right.

The weeks leading up to the wedding, I tried to prepare myself. I watched YouTube tutorials about wedding photography, practiced with different lighting, and even bought a backup battery for my camera.

I wanted to do right by them, even if the pay was insulting.

But what they didn’t tell me was that they had money. They were just being cheap. I learned that on the day of the wedding.

***

The venue was gorgeous. Brandon and Maya had rented this beautiful veterans’ hall with high ceilings and elegant decorations. As I walked in that Saturday morning at 11, I couldn’t help but notice the elaborate floral arrangements everywhere. Hundreds of white roses and peonies. The kind that cost serious money.

“Those flowers must have cost a fortune,” I mentioned to Maya’s maid of honor while setting up my equipment.

“Oh yeah,” she laughed. “Maya spent like three grand on flowers alone. And don’t get me started on the custom cocktail menu. They hired a special bartender just for signature drinks.”

Three thousand on flowers? I thought. Custom cocktails? But they couldn’t afford a real photographer?

From 11 in the morning, I was on my feet constantly. Maya had me photographing every single detail, including her hair appointment, her makeup session, her jewelry laid out on the bed, her shoes, and her dress from 15 different angles.

“Make sure you get the back of the dress too!” Maya commanded from her makeup chair. “And the detailing on the sleeves!”

“Got it,” I said, trying to stay professional.

But Maya barely acknowledged my efforts. Instead of thank yous, I got orders barked at me all day.

“Don’t shoot from that angle, my arms look fat!”

“Why are you still behind me? Go get the shot from the balcony!”

“Make sure you get tons of pictures of ME. We don’t need so many of Brandon’s side of the family.”

“Ugh, crop my mom out if you can. She’s wearing the wrong dress.”

Each command felt like a slap.

By 4 p.m., I was exhausted.

The veterans’ hall had no air conditioning, and with over a hundred guests packed inside, the temperature had to be pushing 110 degrees. My shirt was sticking to my back, my feet were killing me, and I hadn’t had so much as a sip of water.

I hadn’t been offered a seat, let alone refreshments. While everyone else enjoyed cocktail hour, I was crouched behind bushes getting “candid” shots of guests mingling.

At 5 p.m., when the catering staff started bringing out the dinner, the smell of barbecue and fresh bread made my stomach growl loudly. I approached Brandon quietly.

“Hey, I’m fading a little here,” I said. “I just need 20 minutes to grab a plate and drink something.”

Brandon looked at me with complete seriousness. “You’re working, Alice. Photographers don’t eat at weddings. If you want to eat, you’re done for the day.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Maya appeared beside him. “If it’s too hard for you, maybe you should stick to your dog pictures.”

I couldn’t believe what I’d just heard.

“So, you’re saying I can’t eat, drink, or sit down?” I asked as my voice rose. “And you still expect me to work through the rest of the night?”

“You’re being dramatic, Alice,” Maya rolled her eyes. “$250 is generous for someone who isn’t even a real photographer.”

That was it. That was the moment something snapped inside me.
I looked around the room and saw a few guests watching our exchange.

One older couple, friends of Brandon’s parents, gave me a pitying smile. Another woman whispered to me as she passed by.

“Sweetheart, you don’t deserve this. Go take care of yourself.”

Her kindness almost made me cry right there. But instead, I turned back to Brandon and Maya and asked one last time.

“You’re absolutely sure you want me to keep going like this? No food, no water, no breaks?”

Brandon nodded firmly.

“Or you can leave if you can’t handle it,” Maya said with a shrug.

So, I pulled out my camera right in front of them and all of their guests. Then, I started deleting files.

I erased every single photo I had taken that day. All of them. Gone.

Maya’s eyes widened. “Alice! What are you doing?”

“Exactly what you told me to do,” I said calmly, continuing to delete. “I’m leaving because I can’t handle being treated like garbage by my own family.”

“WHAT THE HELL?!” Maya screamed. “YOU RUINED MY WEDDING!”

At that point, the music stopped, and every single person in that hall turned to look at us.

“YOU PSYCHO! YOU OWE US!” she continued shrieking.

Brandon stood there in complete shock, unable to speak.

I finished deleting the last photo and popped out the memory card. I handed it to Brandon with a smile.

“You offered me $250 to work like a dog without food, water, or basic human respect. Well, congratulations! I’m not your photographer anymore.”

And I walked out.

The silence behind me was deafening, broken only by Maya’s continued wailing about her “ruined” wedding.

My phone started buzzing before I even reached my car. I got so many text messages from the wedding guests.

“Good for you. I saw how she was treating you. Don’t feel bad for a second.”

“You deserved so much better. No one should be treated like that – family or not.”

“We were all rooting for you. Honestly, I wish I could’ve walked out too.”

“That took guts. Maya had it coming.”

The messages kept coming all night.

Apparently, Maya cried so hard she “ruined her false lashes” and spent the rest of her reception in the bathroom. She called me a “traitor” to anyone who would listen and hasn’t spoken to half the family since.

Brandon tried calling me the next week, demanding I pay for a replacement photographer for their “do-over” photos.

“Maybe you should’ve used that flower money for a real photographer in the first place,” I told him before hanging up.

And Dad? Oh, he was so proud of me.

“Sometimes family isn’t about blood,” he said. “It’s about respect. And they showed you none.”

He was right. Absolutely right. I’m so glad I stood up for myself and didn’t let them continue disrespecting me.