It was a crushing experience for me when my spouse made fun of my cuisine by putting on a PowerPoint presentation in front of our family. But I decided to plot my reply rather than strike out at the situation.

Nearly five years had passed since Thane and I had tied the knot, and on the majority of days, we got along well. Cooking was something I enjoyed doing and I believed I was fairly good at it.

I had been the family’s chef for many years, and if we had a gathering, I would spend hours preparing handmade lasagna, roasts that were precisely seasoned, or elaborate salads with dressings that I had created myself. Having a love for it was something I was really proud of.

On the other hand, Thane was the kind of person who could hardly take quick ramen.

All of his few efforts at cooking often resulted in his ordering takeout or, on one occasion, a pan of spaghetti that was overcooked because he forgot to add water. In spite of the fact that he lacked skill, he had an air of unwavering self-assurance over everything, even cooking.

Our family got together for a get-together at my mother’s place on the previous Saturday. As is customary, I was in charge of preparing the main course.

My day was filled with activities like as marinating chicken, putting together lasagna, and preparing a colorful salad. As soon as everyone took their seats, they were ready to consume their food, and the compliments began to come flooding in.

Then, as everyone started digging in, I saw Thane flashing me a peculiar grin that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I made an effort to disregard it, mistakenly supposing that he was thinking of a personal joke. Then, however, he cleared his throat and introduced himself by saying, “You know, I’ve been keeping track of your cooking.”

I laughed, thinking that he was making fun of me. “Oh, you’re right? How about that?

He proceeded by saying, “I managed to put together a small slideshow.” Although I assumed he was kidding, he was not. Taking out his phone, he connected it to the television that my mother had, and then he launched a PowerPoint presentation that was named “Enhancing Our Home Dining Experience.” The silence at the table continued, and I sat there, dumbfounded.

The first thing he said was, “Here we go, folks,” and he sounded as if he were delivering a lecture. Slide 1: An Excessive Amount of Garlic When he clicked, a picture of garlic bulbs displayed on the screen along with the caption, “Strong flavors have the potential to overpower the taste buds.”

As he continued, I had a blush on my cheeks. “What exactly is this, Thane?”

He continued on without paying any attention to me. “On Slide 2: Pasta That Is Too Firm. “It is common knowledge that pasta ought to be soft, rather than chewy,” he said, looking around as if he anticipated receiving nods of agreement.

My sister Rhea gave out a frightened chuckle, and my father Elton coughed into his handkerchief because he was feeling anxious. I felt embarrassed, but I was too surprised to talk about it.

This was followed by the presentation of “Slide 3: Salad Needs More Salt,” during which he explained to the group that “a skilled cook knows salt enhances flavors.”

Last but not least, he concluded with a photograph of Gordon Ramsay grinning broadly and captioning it, “What he’d think.” He was expecting for applause as he leaned back with a smug smile on his face.

A hush fell over the room. Mavis, my mother, attempted to break the silence with a phony giggle. She responded, “Well, Thane, that’s… quite creative,” in an effort to defuse the tension that was there.

Due to the fact that I was too ashamed to look anybody in the eye, I remained silent during the remainder of the meal.

I didn’t waste a single second before turning to him as soon as we arrived at our house. Where did it come from, Thane? I inquired about it.

By shrugging his shoulders, he said, “It was just for laughs, babe.” Because I know you take cooking very seriously, I thought you would be interested in some advice.

“Any suggestions?” It was a snap. Because of you, Thane, I was embarrassed in front of my family! What gave you the idea that it was acceptable?

He dismissed it with a “chill” and remarked, “Chill.” You are not being reasonable. I only wanted to be of assistance.

How can I help? I echoed, completely taken aback. “Thane, you can’t even toast bread without setting off the fire alarm. It really is that simple.” “Who are you to judge the way I prepare food?”

“It was a joke,” he said, rolling his eyes as he spoke. Your level of sensitivity is excessive.

The more I looked at him, the more my patience began to wane. “That’s fine. Put your culinary skills to the test by preparing meals for yourself. It’s over with me.”

With a giggle, it seemed as if he was not taking me seriously. “Oh, no, you’re not for real,” the speaker said.

“Thane, I am completely serious,” I stated while putting my arms under my chest. It was my intention.

After that embarrassing meal, I was not going to let Thane off the hook of responsibility. I became more and more enraged as I continued to think about it. On the other hand, rather of yelling or sobbing, I chose to do something more intelligent. I would give Thane a presentation of my own if he believed that PowerPoint was the best method to communicate the information.

Over the course of the next week, I committed myself to the process of writing “Enhancing Our Financial Future.” During the course of my job, I couldn’t help but smile; my presentations became more sardonic with each new detail. If I were to give this revenge with the same dramatic flair that he had employed, it would be absolute perfection.

For the first slide, the title was “Dreaming of a Vacation.” It started out with a brilliant stock picture of a beach that was bright and sunny, replete with palm palms and waves that were clear and blue.

The following is a statement that I made below: “If we had more financial wiggle room, we could be here instead of being stuck at home this summer!” I included a couple bar graphs that demonstrated how our income renders a vacation to the beach “out of reach for the time being.”

“Home Upgrades: If We Could Budget for Them” was the title of the second slide. The slide was filled with a gleaming, recently refurbished kitchen that included stone countertops and equipment that were shining.

In the space below, I made a note that said, “Imagine the possibilities with a little bit more cash!” The title of the document that I supplied was “Savings Potential: Cooking at Home,” and it had a breakdown of his favorite weekly splurges. This was a subtle reality check disguised as fun.

The third slide was titled “Fancy Dining (If We Didn’t Eat Out So Much),” and it included enticing photographs of gourmet food ordered from a high-end restaurant located in the vicinity.

In order to compare our monthly eating expenses to the amount of money that we would need to set aside for a night at a restaurant like that, I included a line chart. Although it may have been a little harsh, I was having so much fun that I didn’t care.

I concluded with a statement that was titled “Goals for a Bright Financial Future.” I included a motivational quotation from a successful businessperson about the importance of following one’s aspirations on the last slide.

A motivational poster depicting a guy dressed in a suit pointing to the words “Effort Pays Off” was added such that it was located underneath it. The amount of fun sarcasm that it included was exactly perfect.

The time was just ideal. Another family get-together was on the horizon, and I was well aware of the appropriate time to reveal my work.

On the day of the get-together, I maintained a cool demeanor throughout the meal, gently taking compliments on my lasagna without bringing up the most recent incident. Thane was beaming with happiness, giving the impression that the PowerPoint drama had been forgotten. While everyone was unwinding in the living room after supper, I managed to get to my feet.

“Hello, everyone,” I began with a grin on my face, clearing my throat, “I have a brief presentation that I would like to explain.”

Thane gazed at me with a shock on his face. “Oh, what? Where does this come from?

“These are just some of the ideas that I’ve been putting together.” In order to connect my laptop to the television, I grabbed the remote control. The phrase “Enhancing Our Financial Future” appeared on the screen as it flickered to life.

Several of Thane’s family laughed and glanced over at him. He gave off an anxious appearance, as if he were beginning to understand.

In response, I clicked on the picture of the beach and said, “Alright, Slide 1.”

The laughter that our family shared caused Thane’s cheeks to flush. Mavis, my mother, smiled at me with a knowing smile, recognizing my plan.

Home Improvements—If We Could Afford Them—is the topic of the second slide. The kitchen had been recently redone, and I clicked on it to show off its modern equipment.

A few of my family laughed out loud, and my father, Elton, shook his head in agreement. Thane seemed to be becoming more uncomfortable as he shifted about in his seat.

I continued by saying, “Slide 3,” which was about “Fancy Dining and How Cutting Back Could Help.” Thane seemed to be in a state of want to disappear at this point, as his face was flushed and his eyes were darting about.

The last slide was finally reached by me. A grin appeared on my face as I concluded, “If we put in some effort and concentrate, we can accomplish anything, right?”

A little pause was followed by Mavis’s outburst of laughter, which was then followed by the laughter of everyone else. An uncomfortable laugh was given by Thane in an attempt to play along, despite the fact that it was obvious that he was less amused than the others.

Thane closed the door behind us and exhaled deeply as soon as we arrived at our residence. Through the lifting of his hands, he said, “Okay, point taken.” “I suppose I should have known better.”

I responded by folding my arms and said, “You have more than earned it.” It would be nice if the next time you ‘critiquing’ my food in front of everyone, you would give it some thought.

With a little smile on his face, he nodded. “You are absolutely correct. I went beyond what was acceptable. I apologize for making you feel embarrassed. My assumption was that I was being smart.

Because I was relieved that he seemed to understand, I softened my tone and remarked, “Now you know how it feels.”

Thane smiled in a defiant manner, a little one. “So… if you’re going to cook again?”

Even though I was rolling my eyes, I couldn’t help but smile. “Perhaps there is a possibility,” I said, “but only if you keep the ‘feedback’ to yourself.”

And with a chuckle, he added, “Deal.” As of the moment, you are the head chef.

After then, our “PowerPoint battle” was said to have been successfully concluded.