My wife and I attended our friend Tom’s small wedding (around 70 guests, mostly family). The ceremony was beautiful, the reception thoughtfully arranged with an open bar and a buffet that promised a good meal. Tables were called up in waves, starting with family—so we waited, enjoying our wine and chatting.

By the time our table was invited, however, the buffet was nearly bare. Very little was left, and portions were scant. While we sympathized with Tom (he later told us the catering fell short of his expectations), our table grew increasingly frustrated and hungry. In a spontaneous attempt to bring some relief for us and a few other underserved tables, we pooled money and ordered four large pizzas and wings to the venue.

The arrival of the pizza led to tension. The bride’s father approached us, upset that we’d brought food in and declined to share the last slices. Soon after, Tom asked us to leave—telling us Linda (the bride) was upset and that our presence was causing disruption. We departed feeling hurt, confused, and embarrassed.

A few days later, Tom called. His family acknowledged the food shortage and agreed to host an “After Wedding Shindig” with plenty of food, drinks, and entertainment for all guests. While the resolution offered some relief, the ordeal made us rethink our role as guests, the expectations of hosts and attendees, and how one misstep—not the pizza, but the buffet shortfall—can spiral into greater upset.