I work in the ticket windows at a major theme park. A guest comes to my window with a boy of about six in tow.

Guest: *Pointing to the boy* “We forgot this one’s annual pass. Can we get a new copy?”

Me: “Of course, what’s the name on the pass?”

Guest: “David Smith.”

Since the pass is for someone clearly too young to have an ID to match it to, I search for the name “David Smith” and establish that I have the correct pass by verifying the phone number and email address on file. I’m given the correct information, so I finish the process and print a new pass.

Me: *Handing the new pass directly to the boy* “Here you go, kiddo! Maybe have Dad help you keep closer track of it this time, okay?”

He looks at his pass, and then he looks like he’s about to cry.

Boy: “But my name is Wyatt.”

Guest: “Why did you reprint David’s pass?”

Me: “Because you said the pass you needed belonged to David Smith.”

Guest: “No, David Smith paid for it. But the pass is for Wyatt Jones. So why did you reprint David’s?”

Me: “Because I didn’t ask you who paid for it. I asked whose pass it was.”

I start the process over, searching for and verifying the correct pass this time.

Guest: “There’s a difference?”

Me: “Well, unless Wyatt paid for his own annual pass, yes, there is a massive difference.”

Guest: “But I pointed to Wyatt when we forgot his pass. Shouldn’t you have known to look for his pass?”

Me: “How?”

Guest: “How what?”

Me: “How would I have known to look for Wyatt’s pass when the only name you gave me was David?”

He opens and closes his mouth several times. I seem to have stumped him. His wife, however, turns out to be just out of my sight and she understands exactly where he went wrong. She tells him so in ways I only wish I could while being on the clock. I hand him Wyatt’s pass.

Me: “Here is the pass you actually needed. Please make sure to give David his new pass before he visits again and explain to him why the one he has no longer works. Have a nice day.”

He looked like he wanted to say something, but his wife moved him along with an apologetic glance, still giving him grief.

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Coworker: “Is something broken?”

Me: “I don’t think so. Why?”

Coworker: “There’s a weird rumbling or humming coming from somewhere. Sounds like something is broken… or about to break.”

I walked over with her to her section, and she was right. There was a strange sound, like an engine straining, coming from… somewhere.

We followed the sound to the source, and both of us tried to stifle our laughter.

I know it’s a cliché, but we have a large seating area in the store we call the “Husband Zone”, as it’s where all the husbands sit patiently while their wives shop for clothes. Often they will read magazines or talk amongst themselves about equally cliched husbandy things (trust me, I’m not stereotyping — they do!) but today was something special.

Four sleeping husbands had managed to synchronize their snoring so perfectly that there was a constant sound at the same pitch, never interrupted, always taken over by the next husband when it was time to inhale. It was… amazing.

Sadly, it only lasted a few more seconds before one of them coughed, breaking the cadence and ending the magic.

I worked in a restaurant. Every Sunday, this couple would come in, order food, and sit and fight and argue with each other the entire time they were eating their meal.

They did this every. Freaking. Sunday. For the entire four years that I worked there.

Why don’t you just break up or divorce already?!

I work in a library. A woman with a toddler comes up to the help desk.

Patron: “Sorry, but I’ve been all over this place and I can’t find your daycare.”

Me: “I’m sorry, ma’am, but we don’t have a daycare.”

Patron: “What?! Of course you do. My child is there every weekend.”

Me: “Maybe you’re thinking of another library, ma’am? We have a children’s book section, but no daycare.”

Patron: “But my husband brings my child here every weekend. Isn’t that right, [Child]?”

Child: “Yes, Mommy. I stay and look at the books for ages and ages.”

Me: “Ma’am, and I do say this as delicately as possible, but I don’t think your husband has been leaving your child in a daycare.”

She contemplates what I have just said, and I swear I see a steely cold resolve manifest on her face. She actually looks at her wedding ring and then removes it.

Patron: “Thank you. This is the kind of thing the lawyers were looking for.”

And with that, she casually walked out of the library. My coworkers and I took a mental snapshot of the child so that if we ever see them alone in the library in the future we will know it was Dad’s day to look after them.

My friend loves April Fool’s Day. Just this year, she posted ads online for bogus stuff — one with goats for sale and the other for an animal impersonation contest.

On both of them, she included her husband’s phone number and encouraged people to call pretending to be responding to them.