Making house-calls is always a weird experience. From cable guys to food delivery workers, these folks share the utmost weirdest experiences they've had while entering a customer's house. Content has been edited for clarity
The Strange Lady In The Log Cabin
“As a pizza delivery driver, I wasn’t required to go into anyone’s house, at least on paper. In practice though, it happens. If I were doing the same job now, I’d be much warier of going into someone’s house, but at 19, I thought I was invincible and didn’t care.
I have tons of pizza delivery stories but I’ve never told this one.
There used to be this log cabin-looking house right in the middle of town. It was probably 10 pm when I went out on the delivery. I looked at the address, looked at the wall map to see exactly where I was going (the days before GPS), and realized it was the log cabin. I’d always noticed it but had never visited it, nor did I know anything about it. So it was kind of exciting getting to see who actually lived in this place.
I arrive and pull into the driveway and for the first time, I noticed it had 3 separate doors. A, B, and C.
‘I’ll be, it’s a triplex,’ I thought.
The address was for unit C, so I went to unit C and knocked on the door. As soon as it opened, a wall of stink knocked me across the face. It smelled like… I don’t know, a mixture of urine and unwashed crotch? A woman answered wearing nothing but a t-shirt and panties, which wasn’t particularly strange for my town, but when she raised her arms, I could see her bazongas hanging out the bottom of the shirt.
Let me impress upon you, these were not bosoms I was particularly keen on seeing. Plus that stink, Jesus it was insufferable.
She turned around and said, ‘I gotta get my pocketbook, will you set it on the counter?’
Extremely hesitant, I crossed the threshold and saw the counter right next to me. I set the pizza down. She came back out with the exact change and a copy of The Last of the Mohicans on VHS. She handed me the money and said ‘Have you seen this?’ and plopped the video in my hands.
‘Uh, yeah, years ago,’ I said.
‘Well now you own it,’ she said. ‘That movie is so good.’
I stared at her and the tape for a moment and I’m said ‘I mean if you like the movie I don’t want to take it from you.’
‘No it’s fine,” she said. ‘I got like 50 copies of it.’
Right after she said that, I noticed her TV was on and, no joke, the Last of the Mohicans was playing. I remember clearly it was the scene where the guy was being burned alive.
‘Okie doke, thanks,’ I said and left.
When I got back to work, I told my manager I’d just delivered a pizza to the log cabin in town and he looked at me and says ‘Did she give you a copy of Last of the Mohicans?’
‘SHE DID!’ I replied.
‘Yeah, I got a copy from her too.’
Not particularly scary or anything, just weird. I never had a delivery for her again.”
It Was Like The Jerry Springer Show
“I used to be a service plumber. I was actually just an apprentice at the time. But anyways, I was sent to a house that one of our guys had just installed a hot water tank in, and the customer complained the water was too hot. I was told to just go and turn it down a few degrees and get out.
So I arrived in the person’s driveway and looked up to see this middle-aged woman (kind of haggard-looking) up on her balcony on the second floor. She said she would come down and let me in the suite on the main floor where her tenant lived. She got down, greeted me, and to my surprise, she was completely wasted at 2 pm. She then launched into a tirade about her tenants.
We got to the door and she knocked and nobody answers. At this point, the lady started complaining and saying stuff like ‘I told that idiot a plumber was coming today, forget it, I put a notice yesterday.’
She opened the door and her tenant iwa just sitting exposed on the couch. No clothes! Nothing! Would’ve been cool if she was attractive but nope! I avert my eyes and apologize.
Just when I thought this visit couldn’t get any weirder, the situation goes from 0 to 100…FAST.
Out of nowhere, I was on the Jerry Spring show because these two women started throwing hands at each other! Fists started flying! Kicks, knees, jabs, hair-pulling! The whole she-bang.
Me, a sheepish apprentice, asked the landlord where the hot water was.
She yelled, ‘It’s behind the fridge!’ while she had the nudist tenant in a headlock. This lady meant business.
I ran over to the hot water as soon as I could and got my business completed as quickly as possible, while the fight concluded itself. I think the two of em got tired out because now they were sat across the floor from each other hurling insults.
Once I completed everything I headed to the door and the landlord followed me right out.
She pulled me aside and said ‘I’m going to evict that prick and you are gonna be my witness!’
I blinked for a second and said, ‘NOPE.’
I hopped into my van and drove as fast as I could from that place. I was a journeyman plumber for crying out loud, I was not getting paid enough for this!’
A House Call That Will Haunt Him For The Rest Of His Life
“Here’s a gross story.
A few years ago when I was an apprentice, my qualified colleague (we’ll call him Sam) and I got sent to a bungalow belonging to an elderly resident to install an extractor fan in the en-suite of his bedroom. The gentleman was going to be away on holiday during the installation and had left a key in an outdoor wall safe so we could get in and do the work. Nice easy job.
I went straight to the job in the morning so I could drill the four-inch hole through the wall for the ductwork (the apprentices always get the lame jobs). Sam went to the wholesalers to get the parts and materials, then would meet me on site (It was the middle of summer in a heatwave, we wanted to get to the garden, so we’d get done faster this way. However, it adds to the grossness, you’ll see why).
So I pulled up to the house, knocked on the door, even though I know he’s not been in for three weeks at this point (force of habit, you never know). No answer, so I punched the code in and get the key out of the wall safe.
I put the key in the door and opened it.
Instant gag reflex.
The smell was so bad I’ll never forget it, it was like a vomit smell almost, unique though. I put on my respiration mask from my bag, which I’d put on to drill brick anyway, and pushed on.
I opened the door to the bedroom, smells even worse.
‘Jesus, what’s this guy been doing in here!?’ I questioned.
Kept gagging, but walked on.
Then the worst part.
I opened the door to the bathroom. Instantly vomited in my mask. My legs turned to jelly. My stomach did cartwheels.
The gentleman was in the bath. Dead.
He’d obviously been there a long time. Three weeks, at least. I dropped my tools and ran outside. I took off my mask and wiped my face. Shaking and sweating horribly, I had to sit down. It took me a few minutes, but I rang the police (they didn’t seem fazed which surprised me, but I suppose they’ve heard it all.)
Lit a smoke and rang Sam, while waiting, and told him what had happened. A few more minutes later, the police arrived. I was still in the same place I sat down when I’d come out of the building. I could not get up, I was almost frozen in fear. One of the policemen was very sympathetic and helped me up. I gave a statement and they gave me a lift home.
Will haunt me for the rest of my life.”
What A Loser
“Used to be a police officer. Pro-tip: If the house/apartment is unreasonably warm and smells like pee, the floor WILL be sticky.
My ex-partner got dispatched to a welfare check: someone called 911 because they heard their neighbor screaming. So my partner and his old partner arrived and knocked on the apartment door, male answers the door. According to my partner, he was a very normal-looking hipster white guy in his 20s/30s (plaid shirt, man bun, those big chunky glasses) and very surprised to find the boys in blue on his doorstep. He lets them in and there’s a computer with an adult film playing in the main room, along with a big jar of…his…fluids. A pickle jar partially full of spunk. Out in the open, right by the computer.
They start asking him about someone screaming, he’s evasive and starts to squirm, they cuff him and check the rest of the apartment and find no one. Finally, he admits he was the one screaming. He (apparently) beat his dong as it owed him money. He touched himself so much he would rub his Johnson raw and cause so much pain he couldn’t help but scream while he did so. Not against the law to SELF-flagellate, so they uncuffed him and advised him to keep it down and seek therapy.”
This Guy Was BEYOND Creepy
“Two years ago, I was working for a company as a person who measures houses. Most people haven’t heard of it. It’s where you essentially have an iPad and you go to people’s homes and draw up floor plans. I was 25 at the time and am a female, one of the few girls that work this position. I was actually excellent at the job, so they gave me A LOT of work, and I usually hit between 10-14 houses a day driving all over multiple towns.
This house was my last house of the day, in the middle of nowhere. When I got there, I was annoyed because the customer wasn’t home and was late for his appointment. Ten minutes later, he pulled up next to my car. He was a middle-aged man, balding, wearing a normal office job attire with a tie and everything. He seemed a bit awkward, but was apologetic and let me into his home. Upon entering, the house was unbelievably spotless and organized. Minimal furniture, and smelled like cleaning supplies. It didn’t strike me as odd at first. He had two cats lounging in the living room.
He first started acting weird as I was directed to the first bedroom. He mentioned, ‘Wow, my cats love you! They don’t take to strangers like this usually.’
But his cats literally didn’t move or come near me the whole time. I just nodded and smiled while I got to work scaling out the master bedroom on my iPad.
He started inquiring about the electronics I was using.
‘Do they keep track of where you are on that thing?’ he asked.
Immediate red flag.
‘Yes! And my boss knows how long each job should take based on the scope of work. It’s incredible technology!’ I lied without missing a beat.
He agreed it was ‘amazing.’
‘Be careful! Don’t touch the Smith & Wesson on the nightstand. It might go off!’ He chuckled.
Talk about immediate spine chill. I looked up from my iPad and sure enough, there was a weapon on the nightstand. I knew instantly that I needed to behave like NOTHING that was happening was triggering alarms for me. He directed me to the second bedroom, and he said the exact same thing. Warning me of another weapon on the nightstand, that indeed was there. This was the moment I knew I was in danger. At first, I thought it was just my anxiety around weapons, but at this point the tension building between us was undeniable.
There were only two bedrooms on the scope of work. I hastily met up with him in the kitchen and began running down the next steps. But he interrupted me.
‘Could you measure the basement stairs?,’ he asked, ‘I forgot to add them to the list, and I think I might want to carpet them in the future.’
My heart dropped, but my stupid customer service-conditioned brain could not figure out how to get away with saying no. He led me to the basement door, and, you guys, there is NO WAY he was planning on doing anything with these stairs. They were plank wooden stairs, L-shaped going down leading to an unfinished basement.
Unfortunately, in order to get an accurate measure, I had to walk all the way down them to the basement. Meanwhile, he stood blocking the doorway with a smile on his face, mentioning AGAIN about whether my boss knew where I was to which I shortly replied yes. Once I got to the basement, I scanned the room quickly. There was not one, but SEVEN deep freezers lining the walls. In the middle of the room was a lit low hanging ceiling light, revealing an old television set, VHS tapes scattered on the floor, and an old recliner facing the TV. Behind the set, two white shelves full of VHS tapes.
At this moment, I knew one of two things was going to happen. He was either going to let me go, or he was going to push me down the stairs. I held my breath, put a smile on my face in an attempt to act my way out of this situation, and began to climb the stairs. All I could hear was my heartbeat in my ears. He was still blocking the door, no smile this time. As I got to about the fifth stair from the top, I felt him hesitate, which made me hesitate as well. You could cut the tension with a KNIFE and I finally understood that expression. To my absolute shock and relief, after four seconds, he stepped aside.
I made a b-line towards the front door, not saying a word when he stopped me AGAIN and said, ‘Oh before you go, won’t you give my cats a treat? They loved you so much!’
He was holding a bag of cat treats. I quickly gave his cats a treat, thanked him, and practically ran out of the house, and definitely ran to my car. The second I got out of his driveway, I had the most intense panic attack and cried. I tried to call my boss, but I was in a dead zone.
The truth of the matter is that my boss would not have noticed I was missing for at least 24 hours when I didn’t route my day the next workday. Yes, he would have eventually been caught as it was my last known location, but I would’ve been long dead. I suffered PTSD over this experience, I couldn’t sleep for a week. I was petrified to work my job, but had no choice. This day still haunts me.
The worst part, I was so messed up, jumbled, and in denial over the experience, I forgot to write down his address.”
Fraud Support? No? This Is Delivery?
“I was delivering pizza to a house I had never been to but it was near other places. It was in its own private drive and upon reaching it the house looked like the house of a thousand corpses. Large two-story house with tons of random junk piled into a 20-foot deep garage dimly lit by a single flickering light bulb with a door near it. The front door around the side facing me had broken steps leading up to it, which had an old chair with cushions that had a plant growing from it at the top blocking the stairs and that door was boarded up with a half-broken window next to it that was also boarded up.
I called the place several times and they didn’t answer. I honked my horn a couple of times as well because I wasn’t going in there and getting jumped.
They finally returned my call using a strange voice and told me they are a credit card fraud company based in New York. I told them their pizza is getting cold and they better come out and get it.
They repeated they are a credit card fraud company and asked if I had any fraud to report. I said no but I do have pizza out here waiting for you to come out to get it because I’m not coming near your junked-up garage and your front door is boarded up.
They hung up on me.
I called them back and they do the credit card company again to me in a funny voice. I told them I knew it was a lie because their phone number I called had a local area code, and if they didn’t want their pizza I was leaving.
They repeated the message about having any credit card fraud to report, and I tell them I am gone in two minutes.
They finally came out of the house.
I told them I was waiting out there for almost 20 minutes and the phone calls were hilarious and in that weird voice. The guy pretended that he doesn’t know what I was talking about and paid for the pizzas. I said, ‘Whatever man thanks.’
As I got back into my car I look up and notice there was a camera attached to the side of the house at the top pointed right at me. This dude was watching me the whole time.
I later received two voice mails from the creepy fake fraud company from his number asking me why I’m trying to commit credit card fraud.
I played the voice mails to my boss because they don’t believe me at first and tell them to never let anyone go there and to notify the police if they called again.
Def the weirdest encounter ever.”
The Peanut Lady
“My Dad owns his own plumbing company and often does remodels as a sub-contractor for a bigger remodeling company.
This was a job from the remodeling company so there were contractors moving in and out of this house, electricians, carpet installers, tile-guys, you name it. The homeowner was this sweet, patient, little old lady, and she would offer all the contractors a bowl of peanuts she had in her kitchen.
Not wanting to say no to the kind gesture, people would accept them. My dad is allergic to peanuts, so he had to decline.
A few days into the job, an electrician comes up to my dad and asks if he’s had any of the peanuts;
Dad: ‘Nah, I’m allergic I can’t have any.’
Electrician: ‘Good. I just saw where she gets them from.’
Dad: ‘What does that mean? Like from Walmart? What?’
Electrician: ‘No, no, she’ll eat a Peanut M&M and just suck the chocolate off ’em then put the peanuts into the peanut bowl!’
People are weird.”
The Story Of Mannequin Lady
“I was a cable technician for a long time. There are too many weird things you see to pick just one but one that comes to mind is Mannequin Lady.
She was known throughout the company by all techs. You eventually got to meet the infamous Mannequin Lady. The woman was probably 70+ (this was several ago, she may not be alive now), looked like a piece of old leather come to life, chain-smoked, but lived in an absolute mansion. Unit of a house, most of it unlived in, untouched, slowly rotting away. She stayed in one section of the house upstairs.
A hallway that had two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a small nook for like an office desk just before the hallway actually started. She had a couch and T.V. (tube style, no flat screen), the walls were stained with smoke, ashes covered the floor, and even though you could smell the smoke when first walking in, it was unbearable in this area. She had three cats who had free roam of the place, no litter boxes, and not a way out that I could see/smell. Now, you’re probably wondering why we called her Mannequin Lady.
This woman lived alone. She stayed in the nook at the start of the hallway on her couch and had a TV box there. In both bedrooms, she had a single tv and a single chair. In each chair WAS A MANNEQUIN, one-bedroom was a woman mannequin, the other a man, and they were dressed up, sitting upright in the chairs, watching the TVs. The TVs were always on. Repeat visits eventually got me to notice she changed the clothes of the mannequins, and sometimes, they would still be lying on the floor covered up with blankets like they were sleeping, wearing pajamas. She treated them like actual people. She would talk to them, tell me to tell them things when I would go in the rooms to fix the TVs. It was a major mind mess the first few times.
I realized that she obviously has some kind of mental issue or immense loneliness I couldn’t even begin to understand. I would try and talk to her and make sure she was okay without straight up just asking. I never got the impression she wasn’t stable enough to care for herself and I saw in her out and about quite often. She drove her own self and even though she smoked like that, didn’t seem to have any major health issues.
Such a strange day when you got to see her. I would always leave with a better appreciation of whatever the heck I thought was wrong in my life those days.”
Secret Rooms Are Always Bad News
“So part-time my mom is a dog walker and pet sitter. Sometimes I would cover her jobs while she was at work. There was one house which I absolutely dreaded going to. It was this family with this really weird son who thankfully was rarely around. The husband and wife actually had pretty high-paying jobs in the government, which you could never tell by looking at the inside of their house.
There was this one room we had to go into which had snakes, lizards, and I think hamsters in cages. That room smelled like a combination of feces, old cedar shavings, and urine. It was like walking into a miniature horse stall, but the stench was 10 times worse. Then the owners wondered why their one son, who slept in that room, always had respiratory issues.
This is the creepiest part and I’ve never been so weirded out by anything in anyone’s house ever. I was there with my mom one day and we were in the basement. I kid you not, we were either cleaning or had to get something near the bookshelf and the wall started to move. They had a secret room installed behind the bookshelf! Not like the cool ones you think of in movies either. The creepy part. All that was in the room was a desk with a computer, a chair, and a video camera sitting on a tripod.
My mom and I just looked at each other like ‘What the heck?’
So we closed the bookshelf, did the rest of the job, and left. On the car ride bac,k we both wondered if the guy was producing illicit child videos back there or what. We didn’t want to notify the police because there really wasn’t a lot of evidence indicating that he was. Plus trying to explain to the cops that we were pet sitting a house and found a guy’s secret room behind a bookshelf? Like I said the family was just really weird. Also, notoriously cheap since they tried stiffing my mom every time they wrote her a check by claiming that such and such wasn’t done properly. Eventually, my mom refused to do their house. They also lived in a real rural part of our area, so my mom always hated going there at night.”
He Just Really Loved Diana I Guess
“I bought a TV from this guy in the late 90s, from an advert in a local Buy and Sell classified paper. This was in Dublin, Ireland (which will be relevant).
I phoned the number, then arranged to meet him at an agreed public location. When I arrived, he was driving a taxi. He had a TV in the back which wasn’t the same type as the one in the advert. When I raised this point, he apologized and told me to hop into the taxi so we could go back to his place, where he had the TV that was advertised.
I thought it was slightly odd, but taxis in Ireland are strictly regulated and his ID badge on the dash checked out, so I agreed. Something felt a bit weird though. Beside his ID badge was a collector’s photo of Lady Diana, the kind with the soft focus that you’d find in a pensioner’s house in the UK. Not something that is particularly common in Ireland. Especially in the cab of an Irish person. Even Brits would be cautious of publicly displaying anything supporting the British monarchy. The guy was a little off too. Tetchy and full of nervous energy. Totally neurotic.
We arrived after a short hop at his flat/apartment and went inside. The place was so full of TVs that moving was difficult. Flat screens weren’t really a thing yet, so these were the old heavy cathode tube-type TVs.
It took a moment, distracted by the clutter of TVs, but then I noticed the walls. They were covered floor to ceiling in various pictures, paintings, and photos of Princess Diana. There wasn’t enough free space on a wall in the whole apartment for so much as a postage stamp.
The guy didn’t do anything else weird aside from mention a few times how much he loved Lady Diana and how it was terrible what they had done to her. (This was only a few years after her death at this stage). He took the money after a bit of haggling and even offered to drop me home so I wouldn’t have to carry the bulky TV.
By far the weirdest thing I’ve encountered in a stranger’s home.”