I work in a large arts and crafts store. A customer walks right over to me from the entrance and just blurts out:

Customer: “I need yarn.”

Me: “What kind of yarn?”

Customer: *Sighs.* “Red yarn.”

Me: “What kind of red yarn?”

Customer: “Just red yarn! My wife needs red.”

Me: “Worsted? Bulky? Fingering? DK? Sport? Wool? Merino? Alpaca? Linen? Superwash? Cotton? Fuzzy? Soft? Scratchy? Colour change? Warm? Knitting or crocheting? Any allergies?”

Customer: “…”

Me: “I’ll just show you the yarn wall, and you can look at all the red ones.”

I walk him over, gesture to the vast wall, and walk away. He stares at it for all of ten seconds, sighs, and then walks out.

He was back later that day with a detailed description written down on some paper.

I was in my home office working when I suddenly heard my husband yelling in the bathroom.

Husband: “Son of a b***! D***ed cat!”

Me: “What’s wrong?”

My husband comes out holding our cat, his paws wet.

Husband: “This demon-shaped cat has the annoying habit of trying to slap my pee stream whenever I go to the toilet, and today he was successful.”

Me: “Oh?”

Husband: “Yup, so I had to chase after him to wash his paws. So here, grab him so I can clean the bathroom.”

Me: *To the cat.* “Imhotep, why do you do this?”

Husband: “Wait, he doesn’t do that to you? He has a grudge against me or something?”

Cue me staring at him, trying to phrase my response.

Me: “Honey, think very slowly now. What do I have to do before I pee?”

Husband: “Pull down your pants?”

Me: “After that.”

Husband: “Sit… yeah, now I get it.”

He went to clean the mess, while I laughed at his brain fart and our fur-demon purrs in my lap.

Caller: “I bought internet from you, but you sold me the wrong kind of internet!”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but what do you mean by the wrong kind of internet?”

Caller: “It’s the dirty kind! I want the clean version! All I keep seeing are ladies’ underwear, and not the type a modest woman should be wearing!”

Me: “Uh… are these images on the web pages, or are they just appearing out of nowhere in separate boxes?”

Caller: “They’re all on the websites! All on the sides and between the words!”

Me: “Those will be ads, ma’am. Websites like to advertise products to you. Think of them like billboards.”

Caller: “Well, I don’t want to see these ads! Make them stop!”

Me: “I can’t control the ads you see, ma’am. However, some ads will be tailored to the kinds of websites you’ve visited on your computer. If you visit enough sites that… uh… don’t contain women’s underwear, those should go away.”

Caller: “Why would they show them to me in the first place?”

Me: “Are you the only one who uses your computer?”

Caller: “No, my husband uses it.”

Me: “…”

Caller: “…Oh, do you think he bought me underwear?”

That’s not where I was going with that, but sure!

Me: “It wouldn’t be appropriate for me to comment on that, ma’am. I’m simply saying that the ads sometimes reflect what’s being searched for on the internet.”

Caller: “Well, I don’t want to wear that stuff. Make him stop.”

Me: “Make who stop?”

Caller: “My husband! Make him stop buying me underwear! And take the websites down that sell them!”

Me: “We can’t do any of those things, ma’am. We sell access to the internet; we can’t control what’s on it or how people in your household use it.”

Caller: “I’m beginning to think this whole internet thing was a mistake.”

Me: “…you and a big chunk of the world, ma’am.”

Caller: “Is there a president of the internet I could write to? I want to complain.”

Me: “No, ma’am. You’d have to message the administrators of the website.”

Caller: “Ugh. I’ll just write to my senator like I always do. I don’t expect much from this new one we got… I think he looks at ladies’ underwear too.” *Click.*

Related:
Sooo Not Ready For The Internet, Part 19
Sooo Not Ready For The Internet, Part 18
Sooo Not Ready For The Internet, Part 17
Sooo Not Ready For The Internet, Part 16
Sooo Not Ready For The Internet, Part 15

Last season, I was working at a little winter gear shop in a ski town, one of those places where everything from snowboards to mittens is stacked to the ceiling. 

One snowy Saturday, a couple came in with their two kids. The kids went straight for the helmets and ski boots, eagerly pulling their parents around, begging to try on every single item.

While the mom was distracted, the dad came up to me, casting a quick look over his shoulder. With a grin, he whispered:

Husband: “Don’t let my wife see, I’ve been eyeing this hat for weeks.”

He slipped me €30, and I rang him up, casually chatting about the powder forecast as I tucked the beanie into his bag.

Just as he finished, his wife approached, wrangling the kids. She made her way over to the same rack of hats and leaned over the counter with a knowing smile.

Wife: “Don’t let my husband see, but he’s been needing this hat.”

She handed me the cash, winked, and went back to gathering up their gear. 

They left with a little secret smile on each of their faces, and I knew they’d just bought each other the same hat!

I woke up around 2 AM, sweating and panting. My husband grabbed the baseball bat beside the bed and stood by the door.

Husband: “What? What?”

Me: “I – I – oh no.”

Husband: “What?”

Me: “I had a dream that I was late for school.”

Husband: “Honey. You’re thirty-eight.”

Me: “I know! It was just a dream. I don’t know why I thought I was late for school.”

Husband: “Did you forget something for work?”

Me: “I don’t think so. No wait…”

I did! 

I forgot to send out a reminder to update the minutes for a weekly meeting that would occur the next morning at 9 AM. I ran to my computer, sent the minutes, and went back to sleep. My boss brought it up in the next meeting, commending me on my dedication to my job.