Kyle "Kylo-Bites" Jensen sat in his high-end gaming chair, bathed in the neon glow of his multiple monitors. His face, framed by a pair of expensive headphones and artfully messy hair, filled a corner of the screen. The main window showed a random collection of obscure online storefronts.
"Alright, Chat, what're we feeling today for the 'Weird Web Wednesday' haul?" he asked his audience of several thousand viewers. Kylo-Bites was a popular mukbanger, known for his ability to eat monumental amounts of food while offering running commentary that was equal parts sarcastic and enthusiastic. Part of his brand was ordering strange, obscure, or outrageously priced foods online with his viewers one week, and then eating them on a massive livestream the next.
The chat scrolled by in a chaotic, unreadable waterfall of memes and suggestions. One comment, however, caught his eye.
SuperSnek69: DUDE check out this water my dad's weird coworker is obsessed with lol. its fifty bucks.
A link followed.
Kyle's eyebrows shot up. "Fifty bucks for water? No way. That's got to be a troll." He clicked the link, a skeptical smirk already forming on his face.
The clean, minimalist website for "Clarity" filled his screen. He read the description aloud, his voice dripping with theatrical sarcasm.
"'Sourced from a remote, pristine, and inaccessible natural aquifer...' Oh, you mean a tap in some guy's basement? 'Untouched by modern pollutants... life-affirming properties...' This is amazing. This is peak internet."
His chat exploded with laughter and "BUY IT" spam.
"Oh, we are so buying this," Kyle cackled, rubbing his hands together in glee. "This is a new contender for the 'Most Obvious Scam of the Year' award. Fifty dollars! I bet it tastes like a dirty garden hose."
He navigated to the online store, his viewers watching as his cursor hovered over the "Add to Cart" button. He narrated his every move.
"Okay, here we go. One bottle of 'life-affirming' snake oil, coming right up. My card is crying right now, Chat. It's never been so disrespected."
He went through the checkout process, typing in his PO Box address. The total, with shipping, came to fifty-eight dollars. He hit "Confirm Purchase" with a dramatic flourish.
"The deed is done!" he announced. "Next week, people, we are going to taste fifty-eight-dollar water and I am going to describe to you, in excruciating detail, just how disappointing it is. This is gonna be epic."
Leo, sitting on the floor of his apartment-turned-fulfillment-center, saw the notification pop up on his laptop.
Shopify: You've got a sale!
His heart leaped into his throat. His first online order! He scrambled over to the computer, his excitement palpable. Someone had actually seen his website and decided to buy his product. He clicked to see the order details.
Customer: Kyle Jensen.
Address: [PO Box number], San Diego, CA.
Order: 1x Bottle of Clarity.
California. Someone all the way on the other side of the country had ordered his water. He didn't recognize the name. It wasn't Evelyn Hayes, the woman Mr. Kim had given him the business card for—he hadn't worked up the courage to call her yet. This was a complete stranger. A real, organic customer.
A wide, triumphant grin spread across his face. "It's working," he whispered to the empty room. "It's actually working."
He immediately sprang into action. This wasn't just an order; it was a sacred trust. He went to his inventory stack, which he'd organized by bottling date, and selected the freshest bottle. He carefully wiped it down until the glass shone. He nested it in the premium crinkle-cut paper within one of his crisp, white shipping boxes. He even hand-wrote a small thank-you note on a slip of paper—Thank you for your purchase. I hope you enjoy the Clarity.—and placed it inside before sealing the box with the utmost care.
The next morning, he walked to the post office and sent his first package. As he watched the clerk slide the box onto a conveyor belt behind the counter, he felt a profound sense of accomplishment. A piece of his world, a bottle filled with water from another dimension, was now officially on a journey across the country, destined for a total stranger. He had no idea who Kyle Jensen was, or why he'd decided to splurge on a single bottle of ludicrously expensive water. He was just grateful that he had.
He returned home feeling energized, his doubt erased. The business was real. He had a local distributor, a website, and now, national reach.
He didn't know that his first online customer was a man who had purchased his product for the sole purpose of publicly mocking it in front of thousands of people. He didn't know that his carefully crafted brand was about to be put to the ultimate, unpredictable test: trial by internet.