In-Home Workers Are Confessing Their Most Bizarre, Disgusting, and Disturbing Jobs

I work in air conditioning and refrigeration, we were called by a bloke who wanted a little 1.5kw split system in his bedroom. On the phone he sounded perfectly normal and we booked him in for the following day for a quote on installation. We drive to his home and immediately are struck by roughly 25 cats hanging around the front yard. Weird but I like cats so whatever, they all seemed well fed and happy enough so I gave a few a pat as we walked to the front door of one of the most horribly maintained houses I've ever been to.

I really wasn't too worried, you go to old rum down places all the time so who cares. I knock on the door and get no answer, so I give him a ring. "Yeah yeah doors open just come in" we walk in and the smell hit me like a fucking freight train, we put an air con in at the local sewage treatment plants office and this house smelled worse than that place. We walk down a hallway and there he was, the biggest man I have ever seen with my own eyes.
Sitting on a chair that's legs were bowed under his weight. He was wearing no shirt and from what I could tell no pants either, although his stomach was hanging down so far it covered everything up. My apprentice immediately faked a phone call and fucked off outside and left me in their with this man. He was nice enough and we made small conversation until I asked where he wanted the air conditioner to go. About halfway through explaining what wall in the bedroom he wanted it on he paused for a second and started pissing on the floor. Then while SRILL PISSING continued to tell me how he wanted the job done. I interrupted and told him I was sorry but he'd either have to clean his house or find someone else to do the job because I couldn't expect any of the blokes working with me to do an install in these conditions.
He got snarky and started yelling at me and telling me how I was discriminatory against him, even though we're both white dudes and I'm sporting a pretty intense tradie gut myself. I apologised again and told him that I can't risk the health of my workers or myself for a job like this. I walked out of the house while he was still screaming at me and walked to the truck. Me and the apprentice grabbed the pump bottle full of disinfectant from the tray and spayed each other down with it. I will never ever forget the horrid concoction of smells in that house and still have Vietnam flashbacks every once in a while to watching a giant man pissing all over his floor while having a conversation with me.
/Jibbers-O-Growle/

This is a long story but I have to explain it all or it'll make zero sense. I used to do a summer job when I was in secondary school with a painter decorator and everything was uneventful, until this one job. Now bear in mind this was the 1980s, so pre-mobile phones, pre - Internet etc, then add that we're talking about an area in rural Ireland. No neighbours.
This was to be a three day job, but because it was in a remote area, it was agreed we'd be allowed stay at the house. I'd never been away from home at this stage. The house was a large Georgian manor, the owner was a wealthy widow of a local landowner.
She wasn't old, maybe late 50s, but that was ancient to me at 15. She was, I now realise, lonely. She was also a very handsome woman, not conventionally beautiful but definitely attractive. Being well off, she used to dress so elegantly too, so she turned heads, not that she cared. The job was easy enough, we were to paint a large hallway in the top floor, and the stairway walls to the attic. Now, the painter, Frank, was a bit of a joker and I'll be honest, I thought that most of what happened afterwards was him pulling a prank, until it became obvious it wasn't.
To paint the walls, we had to remove the hallway furniture, but there was a huge, mounted mirror at the end of the corridor and it was clear that this was old and valuable. Having no life experience, I had no idea what something like that weighed. I'm talking maybe 5ft wide, 8ft tall, and with a heavy gilt frame. It was held in place by large screws that clearly hadn't been undone in about a century. Again, I was 15, and I wasn't exactly built for lifting, but Frank was sure it was more of a job than we were able for.
The end of the first day came and we still hadn't figured out how to get this thing down but hey, that's tomorrow's problem. We were fed well that evening and watched a bit of TV. Another first, she allowed me to have a couple of beers (cans of Harp, bleurgh!).
When it came time for bed, we were shown to the attic room. I thought it odd at the time, given it was a huge house, but then figured we were "the help" so didn't mind at all. The room was sparse but had a couple of beds and they were comfortable, so I didn't cast it a thought, and went straight to sleep. I guess the work, country air, and the alcohol mixed to render me unconscious.
The noise started at about 3am. The hammering noise woke me up, groggy and in a strange place, in total darkness. I found the light, and realised Frank's bed was undisturbed. He clearly hadn't come to bed in this room. I thought to myself "he's surely not working at this hour" but the hammering persisted, so I headed downstairs to find him. There were no lights on in the house, no street lights due to location, so I could only see by moonlight.
The hammering stopped as I reached the middle of the stairs, and I'd read enough ghost stories to feel terrified. A horrible chill hung in the air. It was freezing, and this was summer don't forget. I was in that long corridor but couldn't find a lightswitch. There was a door open so I put my hand in and turned on the light in that room, throwing a feint illumination out into the hallway. A few metres in front of me stood Frank, staring into that mirror. In the dark. I called to him, but no response. I walked towards him, and put my hand on his shoulder.
At that exact moment, there was a blood curdling scream from behind us, and in the mirror I caught a glance at our hostess, stark naked, with white rolling eyes, staring straight at us. I turned, I asked her "What do you want from us!!!???" She stopped screaming and cocked her head to the left, and said "I need about treefiddy". Well, it was about that time that I notice that elegant lady was about eight stories tall and was a crustacean from the protozoic era. I said "I ain't giving you no tree-fitty you goddamn Loch Ness monster! Get your own goddamn money!" Frank roused, turned, and gave her a dollar. This story is 100% true.

/Chapelirl/

Hoarders. It’s not all that disturbing, but it’s miserable working for them, and depressing thinking about how it got to that point. That aside working in attics and crawl spaces, you run into plenty of vermin, dead and alive. Not nice when you’re under the house with no fresh air. One particular home unbeknownst to me had a rat infestation. My task was to trouble shoot some in ceiling speakers that weren’t working. Boy I wish I could see my face when I pulled down one of the speakers from the ceiling.
Two things happened, one I was instantly hit with the most foul vermin stench I’ve ever smelled. (If you know you know) and two, Rat droppings, EVERYWHERE, like rain all over my face. Just HORRIBLE. It was a huge house, (some actor or comedian don’t recall) so he wasn’t in the room at the moment. I ran straight to the nearest bathroom to wash up, and I’m normally good with this kind of stuff, but nope this was just overwhelming honestly. Broke the news to him that he’d need to take care of the rats, otherwise they’d just keep chewing through the wiring, and I was on my way.
Another instance from when I worked for a cable company, placed me in a most uncomfortable/ hostile situation. Worked in south central LA, and really it’s not bad. Most people are nice/respectful and unless you’re looking for trouble you generally won’t find it. Anyway, I was sent to a home to install internet service. Basically, it’s a small apartment building, and the owners opened up all the rooms so it’s essentially one big home. Unluckily for me this was a trap house.
I knocked on the door, and was greeted by four dudes. One of them immediately pulls back with his fist as I say “CABLE!” He then says to my face “ooooooo you lucky, I was bout to beat yo ass”. Ok wtf lol. There were a LOT of people in the home, all eyes on me. The air was so tense I could choke on it. Honestly I should have left the minute things got confrontational at the door, but I stayed and RUSHED the job, did a terrible job. Essentially threw a roll of cable in the house, hooked them up and dipped. Only time I’ve actually ran into some trouble working the area.
Last one I NEED to mention. Wasn’t in a home, but was while on the job. Once again in south central, working cable. Task was a simple reconnection at the utility pole. Majority of utility poles in the area are located in the alleys. They’re sometimes inaccessible because they’re either locked off, or the ENTIRE alley is covered in junk, like a junkyard.
So I entered the alley, nothing out of the ordinary, not too messy, and a rather quiet day. Throw on my hard hat and tools, and begin climbing the pole. I get to the top and as I begin grabbing my reconnection tool, I see a homeless person out of the peripheral of my eye. I’ve got my eye on him, as he’s walking towards my pole.
I’ve had my ladder stolen before, (while I ran to a house to grab a tool) and the last thing I wanted was to have my ladder taken from underneath me, leaving me stranded at the pole.
The guy brushes by my ladder, and I’m sure he didn’t see me because he then PULLS his pants down pops squat, and takes a FAT TURD right on the pole I’m working on. It all happened so fast, all I could do was yell when he took those pants down, and stare in shock as I realize what he was doing.
I assume he didn’t see me but you know, perhaps he did and this was some way to mark his territory or something idk. He left without a word, didn’t even acknowledge my yelling lol. He’s lucky I didn’t puke on him from above. Yeah, had a nice cold beer after that day lmao.

/_SmolBeannn_/

Haha! Finnaly my line of work comes up. (Been a plumber's apprentice/plumber). I have tons of stories. All from weird, disgusting, funny, rude people. Here are some. (Im on phone so sorry for the grammar) We had to replace a boiler of an older man (late 60 ish) we were sceduled to be there at around 11 am.

So we stand and ring his door at 10.50 am. No response. Alright no big deal. Ring again. No awnser. No big deal. And the third time we rang we see the curtain open slightly and we see a man in his shirt. He said "give me a minute to put on some clothes".
Alright. So he opens up. And well. There the man eas in his white boxers and that same shirt. Our exact first conversation. "Haha good morning sir." Him. "Haha yea. Im an old d*ck, retired, and its my house. Let me be haha" "Haha sir i couldnt agree less" Then he proceedes to show us where we had to be etc etc. Even offered to help with carrying tools. Still in his undies.
He was a real laid back man with some sense of humor. But when we sat down to eat he did say he has this machine that can fix every disease by just standing in it and such. Something with lack of minerals. He claims it even fixed someone up that couldt move half of her face. Yea. That was also odd. But still. Nice guy. Not the usual fingerwatching guy.
Disgusting. Oh my these people. Brbrbr. We had to replace a gas heater (Dont know if translation is correct im from the EU) but the people had 2 dogs... 2 tiny chiwuawau or somethin. And oh my god. From the second we stepped in till the second we left.
They barked. And 9 hours of barking is A LOT. We wore those ear deafening headset because it was hard to concentrate. Their house was jam packed with items and a good ol layer of dust. And that floor didnt see a vacuum cleaner in a whiiile. But definate hoarder signs. But eh. I dont mind. Their heater was leaking gas from the exhaust. So they wanted to replace it.
Their exhaust that exhausted all the burned gas ran trough the chimney. So it was 8m ish tall. So. My college went up the roof. He pulled it. I pushed and wiggled to see what happened. And OM*G the moment we moved it.
2 decaying smelly bird carcasses fell straight on my hand with a moving box worth of branches and nest stuff... well we knew why it leaked gas.... after cleaning the entirety of the chimney by using 2 lenghts of pvc pipe we had over 3 moving box worth of branches and leaves and shit
And a dozen of decaying corpses or just skeletons of mouse, bird...... also since i was the apprentice at the time. Yea. I had to clean it up. Yay! Ah well. Got some more of someone cares. Probably wont get much attention. But eh. I like sharing my experiences.

/justAguy643/

Lots of stories. I remember this one job vividly. I was called out for a tub stoppage in this neighborhood that was a bit on the dumpy side. Now, I ain't one to judge, but the moment I stepped into that place, I knew I was dealing with something far from average. The lady of the house instructed me to go around back and enter from the alleyway.

As she opened the door, my eyes were met with a sight I could've lived my whole life without seeing. She had this nasty matted hair and facial hairs that were longer than any I’d ever seen on a woman, about 4 inches long. I wasn't sure if she noticed my expression, but I quickly composed myself and stepped into the house. No sooner had I crossed the threshold than I felt this sticky sensation under my boots. You know that sound when you step on something sticky? That squelching, suction-like noise?

Yeah, that's what greeted me with every step. I had to walk through the kitchen to get to the bathroom, and let me tell you, I've never seen a kitchen that looked like it had been through a war zone and lost. The dishes were filthy, as if they'd been used and never cleaned. Roaches, three inches long, openly paraded on the walls and across the countertops, like they owned the place. In the midst of all this chaos, there was this tiny, sickly-looking dog barking its head off from the bedroom.

The lady just yelled at it to shut up, but it was clear the poor thing wasn't in the best of health. The further we walked towards the hall bathroom, the stickier and blacker the floor became. I remember thinking it felt like walking through a tar pit.

When we finally reached the bathroom, boy, I was not prepared for what I saw. The tub was filled to the brim with... well, let's just call it "dreadful brown water" and leave it at that. I asked her if there were any drains in the house that worked properly, and she casually said no, nothing works and she’s been using the tub for months! I could hardly believe my ears. I quickly led her outside, hoping for some fresh air to clear my head.

I told her as gently as I could that the job was going to be expensive. I mean, I gave her a ridiculously high quote just so I could make a swift exit. I told her she needed to get the place professionally cleaned up first. She whipped out her phone book to look for flood remediation services, clearly clueless about what it really meant.

As she flipped through the worn-out pages, tiny roaches weaved in and out of the book, like something straight out of a horror movie! I jotted down our shop's number and suggested she call for recommendations. Then I hightailed it out of there faster than a greyhound chasing a rabbit.

Once outside, I dialed my manager's number and told him in no uncertain terms that we were not touching that job. He asked if I needed help, always the optimist, not wanting to lose a job. But I outright told him not to send anyone unless he wanted a sick crew on his hands.

That's the only job I've ever walked away from, but I'll be damned if it wasn't the right call. I've got plenty of wild stories from my years as a plumber, but this one, this one always takes the cake.

/AnotherNoob74/

I've told this story whenever people tell me "Plumber? I couldn't deal with human shit!" Dude, you think shit is bad? Try hair.
My boss and I once went on a service call to this summer house, sweet old lady answers the door, and tells us that her upstairs shower drain is clogged. We get up there and there's about 2 inches of standing water in the shower.
We ask how long this had been happening, and she says fucking 8 MONTHS. So we grab our automatic lav snake (for snaking out sinks, shower drains, small pipes) and the thing actually burns out. So we grab the big closet snake (for toilets and the like) and it gets it, and we both pull up on it together.
The fucking monstrosity we pulled out of that shower drain was approximately the size of a decently big otter. And if you think that's bad, the smell.
THE FUCKING SMELL. It is by far the worst smell that I think has ever existed. As soon as that fucking hair dildo cleared the drain, both my boss and I starting violently vomiting all over the room.
The old lady comes in to see what's wrong, and that demonic scent takes hold, she's going full fucking exorcist all over the sink and mirror, this lady is sobbing, crawling out of the room, so we grab her and drag her out.
So we're all just laying there, the lady is crying, my boss is still dry heaving, and I feel like I've been violated in every orifice I have. She ended up making us hot chocolate and letting us shower in her downstairs shower.
We didn't go back into that room for 2 1/2 hours, and not without masks. So next time you think shit is gross, just be happy it isn't 8 months of clogged hair.
Moral of the story: pick up your hair out of the drain after you shower you gross fucks.

/AJewishPlumber/

Oh man. I clean carpet for a living and about once a week, we get scheduled to clean an empty house or apartment. 19 out of 20 times, its usual wear and tear, a spill of wine here or there, maybe coffee in the dining room. Usual stuff. Most carpeting cleans up quite nicely. Then there's those other times. the 1 out of 20. Thats when we go to clean a place that is an absolute wreck. I've really seen it all at this point.
Section 8 housing apartment in the bad part of town that was rented out to drug addicts. Burns in the carpet in every room, crusty food on the floor. one of the meth junkies went nuts about a month before they were evicted and completely destroyed every bit of the bathroom, so the inhabitants all shit and pissed in one corner of the extra bedroom. It was so bad that all the drywall in the corner, about 4 feet up, was completely deteriorated and blistered.
The carpet had fused into a flat chunk of polyester from all the urine and shit and the corner of the house where the makeshift commode was actually was rotted out so bad that the house joists started to rot away and sag, causing a crack to run up into the roof. The other bedroom is where they all shot up whatever it was they were shooting up. (heroin, cocaine, meth, etc.)
The thing about junkies is, they don't really have any sort of idea about cleanliness or hygiene, so the little bit of blood and drugs left in their syringe usually gets pushed out at a high pressure to clear the needle for the next person, resulting in a thick black mist getting all over fucking everything. I did my walkthrough with the property owner and at the end he asked "So, what is the best way to fix all of this?"
I told him "Kerosene and matches. Thats about it. This place should be condemned. I'm not going to tell the city or anything, but I'm not working here either. I suggest you call a disaster abatement team or something." About two weeks later, I drove past the place again and sure enough, there were guys in moon suits and gas masks gutting the entire building.
About a week after I completed my training and went out on my own to clean, I got to this guys house to clean, did the walkthrough, measured, and went over the price with him. Now, most of the time, we end up moving some pieces of furniture to clean underneath them, as was the case with this guy. He offered to help me move dressers and beds and whatnot, which is pretty cool. In this case, we were moving his teenage daughter's bed and dresser. we Pick up the bed and move it 90 degrees and i kick a box that was under the bed.
So, I step over it and finish moving the bed. When I put the bed down, The guy's face is bright red and theres a vein popping out on his forehead. I turn around and see that the box I kicked was full of dildos. Like 11 or 12 of them. and holy shit they were big. I stammered out a "I..uh...have to...uh...check my chemical level on my truck...brb." and went outside for a minute. when i got back, no sign of the dildos, no sign of the guy. He did leave me a check on my billbox and a $50 bill. Havent seen him again since.
In a lady's house, old as hell and quite bitchy. She's got one of those yorkies, fucking annoying dogs. There's yellow spots all over her living room and the entire place smells like piss. Now, while pointing out all of the piss spots and at the same time, berating the dog, I notice she's actually pissed herself and theres pee dripping out from under her skirt onto the ground underneath her. I didn't say anything, got in and out of there quickly and haven't had to go back, thankfully.
I go into houses all the time and see guns. Theres one guy I work for pretty often who has two huge trophy rooms full of dead animals, and were not talking just deer. Deer, antelopes, musk ox, lions, alligators and crocodiles, black bear, brown bear, a kodiak bear which must be like 13 or 14 feet tall, zebras, a polar bear, rhino, elephant, hippo, fucking everything. Its amazing. And he has these two glass gun cabinets along the walls with somewhere around 80 or 90 rifles, from .22 plinkers and pellet guns all the way up to some fucking crazy huge elephant guns. Thats all I got I guess.

[redacted]

I did cable TV hook ups in the early 2000's in Bremerton Washington, alleged home town of Sir Mix A Lot and definite inspiration for the song and term Bremalo. Bremerton is a notorious shithole, with a global reputation thanks to the US navy having a base there and spreading the word world wide that the place is the 9th circle of hell. Stained sweat pants combined with a thrift store tuxedo T-shirt is basically considered formal wear, and it's not uncommon to see white trash grocery shopping in there pajama's at 4 in the afternoon.
One day 4 guys vanished during the install for to a single bedroom about 15 minutes and returned shirtless and sweaty as hell and uber alert, all sitting on the same couch like four homoerotic cracker jumping beans.
Certain section 8 housing we could not hook up after dark because of fear of being shot, and a gun was once found under a house. You could count on that neighborhood for a date if you hooked up a single mom. I was offered one once, by a Bremalo. Didn't take it up.
Metherton we called it.I also once saw an honest to god stereotypical black pimp in his late 60's with a cane and the suit and the whole nine casually strolling down the street in a basically rural neighborhood. I wanted with all my heart to take a picture, but I was young and semi-terrified.
Another time I was hooking up a shitbox 4 plex in the rougher part of the Hilltop neighborhood of Tacoma WA, and all three sets of tenants got into a multi-generational altercation that started with yelling and moved to threats and I thought might result in gun or knife play. Ghetto drama at it's finest. I finished the outside work and waited for it to calm down, at which point I returned for the signature and the shocked customer said "You're still here?"
Lots of bongs on coffee tables, long before that was semi-appropriate behavior on the coast...One idiot let her German Shepard out of the house the moment I was out of the truck so it could "meet me" and not try to attack me. The thing immediately came running from the front door and went lunging for my throat teeth bared.
Out of pure reflex I got clobber it in the face with my steel binder and it then went tearing ass off into a neighborhood full of kids. Once she had it back under her control I made her lock it in the bathroom, where it went ape-scat for the entire install...hell bent escape and revenge.
One lady who I couldn't hook up claimed that I left her gate open and a coyote killed all her chickens. That turned out to be bullshit, she just wanted me to return and do the install that she wasn't there for originally.Most interesting install I did was when I married 2 newly wed's in the Comcast's database at which point it popped that the husband owed the company upwards of a thousand dollars...which the wife didn't know about. Awkward goodbye, and no cable.
I do not miss installing cable in residences. I also don't miss trying to teach geriatrics how to operate a digital cable box at the dawn of the new millennium. To them that technology was essentially magic. I do miss explaining that cable internet doesn't need to dial up...always made me smile. I guess this is more of a list of horror stories than interesting things. Bummer.

/dwitman/

So I use to be a come to your house Pet Sitter. We used code names for each client to conceal their identity. This lady's code was STAIN. She was the epitome of Crazy Cat lady. She had somewhere around 9 Indoor cats and who knows how many outdoor cats.
First I have to talk about her. We always meet with the clients at their homes to better understand their pet needs and to go over any specific house routines.(The company I worked for was also like a house sitter as well.)
So upon meeting this woman, who is about 50-60, clean look and in shape for her age, I can see the madness in her eyes. Anyone who has ever met a truly crazy person will know that look. Its like a black void kinda of gaze that just cuts through you when they look at you. She has a spastic energy to the way she talks and just kinda jitters around.
Right away she jumps into how each of the 9 cats need to be fed. They must be fed in a specific order with specific food at specific locations.(This isn't super unusual, but its a big pain in the ass.) Never let specific cats cross through certain areas. "Oh great, cause cats are so fond of being hold up in rooms."
She shows me to the 6 litter boxes spread around the house. SOOOO much cat shit! "By the way! Make sure to use these specific litters in their corresponding boxes." One litter box is located next to a bathtub that appears to be filled with just bags of kitty litter. Some of which are spilling litter into the tub.
Now it starts getting really weird. She goes on to explain that I should at no point put food into the sink when cleaning dishes or rinsing the empty cans of cat food. I must use bottled water in jugs to lightly dampen and then scrub them clean with paper towels. After which I must flush said towels down the toilet.....
Now to the truly terrible part. Most these "indoor" cats are actually feral and constantly urinate over everything to mark their territory. Thus spread over almost everything in the house are little pet pee pads which are soaked in yellow cat piss.
Just the odor of the place makes you want to gag. Add in the spits ups/ diarrhea accidents, littler being tracked everywhere/ food bowels with their contents sploshed about and just pee that never makes it to the pads.
It was a super special place to spend an hour each day for 3 weeks. This woman was a Senator and has a picture of her and then president George W Bush jr on her fridge.

/Malace85/

A few years ago I was building an addition to an old farmhouse. The clients were husband and wife. The was very old, and it had belonged to the husband's parents. He had grown up there his whole life before getting married in his 50's and inheriting it. He was an unfortunate looking man with an unfortunate looking wife, and they shared with me that they had gotten married very quickly after meeting online.
All of this didn't really impact on my life or the job at all, but I have a habit of filing away information. I had also noticed, all the way through the interaction, that they didn't smell very good. I had never yet been inside the house but the people themselves had a powerful odour. It was a feral smell. Like ammonia and shit. I thought that perhaps, based on glimpses I saw of the house through drawn curtains, they had a cat and a litter box that they were failing to keep up with. That didn't explain the intensity of the smell, but it was the most logical explanation.
The fateful day arrived. The foundations were poured. The framing was up. The roof was on. I had noticed the interior of the new addition was beginning to smell more and more like the owners as it got closed in. I was the first one on the site that morning.
We hadn't opened up the connection between the new and old portions yet, and for that I was grateful. Now unbeknownst to me all of the exterior plugs were on the same circuit. I ran the miter saw, the compressor kicked in... and pop goes the breaker. And with it goes power to all of our plugs.
With a sigh and a curse I grabbed an extension cord off the floor. I had no idea where the panel was, but I knew I could probably grab power from an outlet inside. I strolled over to the former Back Door, a door that was now on the inside of the addition, and opened it up. I didn't even look before I stepped inside, I was looking down at the cord in my hand.
The first thing that hit me was the smell. It was like a physical thing. It had mass. It was like a soggy paper bag was sitting on my face. For a moment, a brief time that felt like an eternity, my lungs refused to draw in more air. I was drowning on stink. There was more ammonia than oxygen in the air. My body was evolving a new kind of lung to allow me to breathe it. It ascended from being just a smell and became my whole world.
The moment passed and I could breathe again. I covered my nose and started taking in short gasps of air. I remembered what I was there for: to find an outlet. Finally I looked at the room. I couldn't quite interpret what I was seeing.
My eyes just would not resolve the image into something that made sense. There were... aisles set up. A zig-zagging series of aisles about chest heights. They were draped with black cloth, a bedsheet I assumed, giving them the appearance of solid walls. I blinked.
They were cages. And they had cats in them. I didn't believe what I was seeing, but there it was. Cages stacked five high, each run about 10 cages long, fifty cages per wall. There was a good five walls to make up the zig-zag. There was about 250 cats in the living room alone. And some of them... most of them... had kittens? What the FUCK?!" I got the hell out of there, to hell with the extension cord. To hell with the power. Fuck. That.

/psinguine/

We get a service call to this house in Inglewood California. It's an older house probably built in the 50's. We arrive to a smell that is hard to describe. Imagine a monster made of diarrhea that has been baking in the desert sun for weeks.
I grab my trusty Vicks vapor rub and basically shove it all up my nose. We knock on the door and are greeted by a yell to come in. As soon as the door opens a wave of smell so foul that even a porta potty would find offensive smack's us in our nervous system. I push through it and enter the house.
To say this person was a hoarder is an understatement. Piles upon piles of pizza boxes. Mountains of diet soda cans jars of what I can only assume are piss sprinkled all over the house. The carpet squishing under our feet we made our way through the neck beard museum to the hallway.
The owner of this hentai hideaway finally appears. The first thing I notice is the shirt. I'm assuming at some point it was a white shirt, but time and gluttony has not been kind to it. It's a mix of colors and stains. His shorts look stiff to the touch, I'm assuming he jerks off into them.
His hair is greasy and black, a scraggly "beard" adorned his skinny face. He says that his water has been shut off for 8 months, be he finally payed the bill and wants us to make sure his shower and toilet are working ok. I already know what's coming. I can see a picture in my mind of the horror that awaits us in the bathroom. We walk over to the bathroom door and open it.
My virgin eyes fall upon a sight I will never forget. This bathroom is a war crime. The United Nations would put sanctions against it if they new it existed. Entire Nations would weep at it's sight and smell. Terrorist organizations would consider it cruel for such a place to even exist. Guantanamo bay is a 5 star resort compared to this sin against nature.
Every surface is covered in shit and piss and paper. The toilet, the sink, the bathtub, the floor, the walls, the ceiling. All of it covered in a layer of human shit. I've literally swam in shit before, like in a hazmat dive suit. But this..... This is a declaration of war on humanity. This is a crime against God and man. This is a holy war, it's the seventh seal opening and showing us the face of death.
I turn to my dad and just say " no." He looks at me with a face I can only describe as a mixture of fear, pain, sadness and rage. He looks over at the owner of this fucking hate Crime and says " My God have mercy on you, good luck."
We walk out to our truck and never speak of this day. The darkest day humanity has ever faced. But we saved you all, to unleash this plague into the world is something we could never live with.

/InsertCleverName79/

Story time. For reference I'm 6'5" 280lbs This story begins with a warning. If you are scared of spiders you might want to avoid this one. Crawling. Ask any plumber worth his salt. Crawling under houses can be the best and worst part of your job. Sure it's cold and dark, no one is going to disturb you. But sometimes it's extremely tight and moving around can make you flip out if you don't know how to calm yourself down. And sometimes you see things you never wanted to see. I've crawled into all sorts of stuff under houses with my dad. Possum's, wasps nests, shit, blood, piss, dead animals.... But nothing compares to the time I solo crawled under a house to find myself in a scene from arachnophobia. It was summer time in Los Angeles and it was hawt. I put my crawl suit on and grab my tool tray. It has various tools in it, pliers, screw drivers, pipe cutter, blowtorch etc...
I begin shoving my large body into a hole not made for me. I worm my way into the hole feet first and finally slip into the sweet cool darkness. My dad hands my the crawl light and I take a look around. I have about 5 inches of space between me and the floor above. The ground is dry and cool. I don't see anything out of the ordinary and begin to shimmy my massive frame as fast as I can over to the spot I'm supposed to work on. I get to the pipe and start taking a look to see if I can spot a leak. Now have you ever walked through a spider web and felt like you had a bunch of spiders all over you but didn't? I feel that as I'm rolling over trying to check this pipe out. I think nothing of it, I'm under a house... I'm in the spider realm it happens. I start digging through my tool tray to look for some soap to test the pipe. The feeling of crawly skin become more and more intense. I grab my crawl light and bring it closer to me.
That's when I see them. Thousands upon thousands of them. A literal wave of baby black widows washing over my legs. Now normally I'm not scared of spiders. But being covered in baby black widows invoked a fear unlike anything I've ever felt. I screamed. I screamed like a ten year old girl. I started thrashing my body all over the ground. Trying to get them off me. My legs and hands slamming into the ceiling. I start to go into this trance of the walls closing in. The spiders crawling all over me coupled with the tight space makes me hyperventilate and panic. I moved faster than I've ever moved before. I crawled like baby on speed to the entrance. I could still feel them all over me. In my crawl suit, trying to find my soft flesh. I can see the light about 20 feet in front of me. The light is like the tunnel people see when they die. I begin to feel small pricks on my hands and neck. I make it to the crawl space hole and feel my dad's iron grip grab me by the shirt. He summons all of his dad powers to yank me out of the hole and toss me onto the ground. I'm rolling around swearing and yelling trying to get the 8 legged assholes off me when I hear my dad shout "STOP MOVING!!!" I finally look up to see him standing over me with the fire extinguisher from our truck and he says " close your eyes and mouth" and then he blasts me with it.
I stand up and look down to see hundreds of little spiders freaking the fuck out from the fire extinguisher chemicals. I peel off the crawl suit and start to inspect myself. All in all I only had 4 bites. I'm not allergic to black widow venom but man did they hurt. We never did finish that job, the owner refused to pay for pest control. The poop dive story. You ever have one of those days where shit just never goes your way? This was one of those days. I'm not supposed to be working with my dad today. But I get a call around 9 am that he has a job he needs help with and he will be by to pick me up in 30 min.
We arrive at some cross section of streets in one of the many ghetto areas of LA. I see city trucks and workers huddled around a sewage access panel. My first thought is " this is strange, why is the city here?" We exit the truck and walk over to the group and that's when the smell hits me. My feeble vocabulary can't begin to describe the foul stench wafting from that hole in the ground. It's like an atom bomb made of hot all you can eat Indian food diarrhea was dropped on a city made of week old animal carcasses that had been dipped in a volcanos asshole.
It smelled so bad that I was physically hit by it. Like mike Tyson had covered his hands in Micheal Moors shit to add poisen damage to his strikes. Like if a sentient poo monster had declared war on my very being. It smelled like someone who should be dead had violently shit in a Sears dishwasher and hit steam. It smelled like the civil war had sex with the Vietnam war and had a baby that was a gangrenous puss filled maggot ridden dumpster full of dead skunks in the summer fart monster. We approach the group of city workers and my dad starts to fill me in on the situation. Apparently a blockage was making all the sewage from the surrounding 4 blocks fill up this access point. The city workers had outright refused to go down there. So they contracted the company my dad worked for to go in and remove the blockage.
I'm not sure of what's involved with this process. I was 18 I have no idea what's going on. All I know is my dad, his boss and his bosses boss were all here. My dad says we are going to dive into this shit lake and remove the blockage before it starts spilling over into the street. I'm thinking " welp, at least I'll get payed more." So we go over to the head bosses van to get our suits on. This takes about 20 min, but I'm covered head to toe in hazmat gear that's duct taped on. We waddle over to the entrance of hell and begin crawling down the ladder. From what I can remember it was a strange feeling. Like floating in water without it touching you. If that water was human shit and piss and you bumped into chunks of paper and tampons and other nasty stuff.
At this point I'm 200% done with this entire day. I'm just floating at the surface holding the lead to my dad's wire. I feel a tug which means he is ready to come back up. His head breaks the surface of liquid shit and he yells " fucking tree down there." Trees don't just appear in sewage lines. Apparently a trees roots had become so massive and tangled that the paper products had formed a sort of seal on all the loose spots, blocking all the water waste.
We've done all we can and come out of the new public pool. We get to a hazmat shower tent and are sprayed down for what seems like hours. Big old scrub brushes with nasty chemicals scrape our clothes and skin. My dad's boss hands him a check for some absurd amount of money and we get in the truck and leave. That was the last time my dad ever worked for or with the city. That was the last time I'd ever dive into shit. Not enough money in the world for me to do that again.

/InsertCleverName79/

Quite a while back, I used to install high end entertainment systems, home theatres and distributed audio for people who didn't know what to do with their money... Smallest house we ever worked on was 7500 square feet.
My boss called me in to do a distributed audio and cascade lighting system in a new construction. We spent about an hour with the client, nice guy, building a 14k square foot house.
First floor is your typical rich person place, library, study, game room, great room (labeled "ballroom"), dining room. Up the hill slightly was the second level, kind of staired up the slope. 3 suites and a 6 bedroom attached guest house.
Down the slope on the way to the shore of the lake it was on was a gym, kitchen, a theatre, and then a room labeled "Special". I'm like, eh?
He had very specific requirements for "Special", very, very high end hidden speakers, a screen the came out of a hidden ceiling pocket, multimedia projector in a hidden pocket in the rear.... Mind you, this was a while ago, so this shit was very, very expensive.
We do the job, things work. In my mind, "Special" is an orgy room or something.
About six months after he's moved into the place, I get a call for tech support. Since the hidden pockets were a custom job, I figured it was that.
Turns out it was a burnt bulb on the projector, and I discovered what "Special" was... It was a chapel, with a one person pew in front of an absolute shrine, Orthodox icons on every surface of the walls, shelves around the room with relics... Like, illegal relics, like human remains transported internationally relics... Christian antiques, by my Master's in Religion, no less than 500 to 1300 years old.
"I'm very secret about this, please don't let anyone know I have it." Oh, I told people...I didn't tell anyone his name, and I won't, because outwardly he's a nice, giving, charitable man... But that room weirded me out massively.

/wjescott/

I used to work in Wheelchair transport and dealt with people in the most unique way, in my view, because they needed help but were not inherently in a bad place. As I would tell many trainees "these people are not at their rock bottom or in a traumatic event, however they are mostly not far removed from one". So because of this job I picked people up from anywhere and everywhere, mostly hospitals, and took them wherever they needed to go, mostly home. Well I got 3 stories out of this.
1) Picked a older guy up from the hospital and took home. Not weird when I initially pick him up, obviously a horny old man with the nurses which is normal. (P.S Nurses have my respect forever because of this job) Get him into my van and start driving, find out he is a former programmer for the government that he retired from in the early 2010's and ask him some computer questions. No big deal he answers them and recommends some stuff to me. No big deal. Get him home and help him to his personal power chair and he thanks me and rolls around towards his computer, shakes the mouse and checks to see if it's working proper. Then he turns around to talk to me and I begin to talk back.
But my eyes wonder, slightly, towards the computer. And notice a couple of paragraphs and story like set up. So I read it while talking to him, It's a Graphic sex novel, no big deal right? Nope, it's about a guy who wants to Rape 14 year olds, no preference on sex, and the details on that one page alone were horrific. I noped out of there, he tried to ask for my number so he could help me find a good computer, so I gave him a fake one (a pizza hut I had saved on my phone) and left as fast as I could.
2) Picked lady up at the hospital to take her home, she lived by herself, in a house that was falling apart, no electricity in half the house, no heat, no ac, and covered in dog and cat shit. Her room was the closest I've ever came to seeing hell. Shit in her bed, destroyed floor in trash and fecal matter, the smell killed me.
She asked for help with getting comfortable in her chair, not uncommon and I couldn't blame her, so I obliged and went to get her blanket off her bed. when I moved it a smell unique to death hit me, it was her cat, she had been in the hospital for 3 weeks believing her daughter was going to take care of her animals, she didnt. I cleaned it up, threw it away, told her I'm sorry but I had to go, and left. The worst I have ever felt for any patient I have ever dealt with. Still wonder if she is okay now
3) This is my favorite for many reasons such as he was one of my first patients, he was legitimately awesome to deal with later on, and it was unique in 2 ways. A) The patient could walk. B). The patient was being picked up from his home and was going to the hospital. So I roll up to the house and knock on the door.
An older lady, his wife. Answers and tells me he was taking a nap but she would be right back. No problem, so I sit in my chair (it was required to use on all patients regardless of ability to walk or not) and wait in the front entryway of their house. She comes back and says "he is awake if you want to come get him". So I follow her around the corner to see a 62 year old man butt ass naked refusing to wear anything, not even a robe, because "I want to be comfortable and I'm only comfortable naked".
He showed it all, balls, penis, ass, and moobs. AND. HE. DIDNT. CARE. it took me 15 minutes to at least get him to wear a robe, which he then refused to tie up. Drove him to the hospital he was going to and helped him into his room and bed, which he promptly tossed his robe and bared it all again before he laid down in his bed.
I left not long after, and while walking out his nurse walked in, a female, young, good looking, and he proceeded to turn into a horny old man. I knew the nurse and she played him up and down, and I was dying laughing by the time I got out of ear shot. I would deal with him 4 more times, in a much more clothed setting. But his balls. My God his Balls. The image is burnt into my mind. Its strange how I remember his attitude towards being nude as nothing more than normal, while I was sitting there thinking in my mind "what have I gotten myself into", i remember every moment, and it haunts me.

/MartianSockPuppet/

Was a dog walker for several years. I walked into a few strange things but one client takes the cake. And let me tell you, it’s a doozy. And I want to note, the company, my client, and MY CLIENTS MOM were constantly updated about these situations. I wasn’t just experiencing it alone and not letting anyone know.
I used to walk into my client’s place and he’d be unconscious on his couch. This happened several times and I would have to call his mom (who was the one who made him get a dog walker after he bought a puppy) and let her know. His mom lived in Texas, we were in a Chicago.
Turns out he was mixing muscle relaxers and alcohol and was in an out patient rehab program. Let me tell you, it’s way above any dog walking pay to check if someone was breathing.
It became obvious the owner was not walking his puppy outside of my walks. The concierge would comment that he barely sees the owner. I started giving the puppy food & water after I noticed his bowl was empty (which happens—my visits were at noon) but he wasn’t pooping at all. And he didn’t pee too much either. I cleaned his water bowl a few times and it was CAKED in grime.
I let people know and the company told me if I was uncomfortable, they could send someone else or drop the client. I couldn’t drop them knowing that I was the only one doing anything.
Then one of my visits I got there and the puppy could barely stand, had peed in several places, and had vomited two large puddles worth. I found a partially chewed pill on the floor and matched it to the open container of muscle relaxers.
The few times the owner was not home. I called him at work and he seriously kept asking about where the dog vomited and if there were any stains. I called his mom and she called a family friend to take the dog to the vet while her son, my client, was at work. I rode a bike for work and had no way to take the dog myself.
I was freaking the fuck out. I told the company, my client (via text, never answered his phone or responded) and his mom that I would contact a place to rescue this dog or figure out a way to bring him home because I was not comfortable with that dog there.
I straight up told his mom that I was disturbed by his lack of care of his own puppy. The next day his mom flew to Chicago and stayed with him and the puppy for a few days. She texted me a week later that she was taking the puppy with her back to Texas.

[redacted]

106 degree weather, whole Indian (India) family lives in a small house. There was an adult brother there that had some mental disability and didn't leave our side the two days we did their windows. That's not that weird, he had the BLUEST eyes I've ever seen. He would just stare and smile, it was like he was looking through you.
The sister spoke a little English. She asked if we wanted a "mango milkshake". We declined. She made them anyway. Half and half cream with mango juice, room temp with two ice cubes. Again it's 106* and we were dehydrated already. Then in the bathroom they had a toe knife sitting on the bathtub, serrated for those real stubborn ones.
Another time did a job out of state in Utah. Drove all night and started work the next day. They have a teenage son with downs. Huge kid, maybe 14-15 almost 6' and maybe 180-200 lbs. Size of a man. The door to his room had a hole in it covered with duct tape. The mom sees me kind of looking through it as I walk through the hall at this man sized kid yelling and moaning.\
Like it's a normal story she says "he took all the furniture and put it up against the wall one day, so I took a mattock and made a hole in it. Then finished it with duct tape. I love duct tape".Another lady got windows sold to her by the company. I have no idea what she/salesperson was thinking but this was a stage 5 hoard. To the ceiling. Obviously we need access to every window from the interior. She is flabbergasted we needed that.
There was a language barrier here as well, she was Chinese I believe. So she did what any reasonable person would do and she grabbed a rake and started making paths. We took a long lunch after unloading the truck and came back to these pathways, it was actually an impressive feat. Did not need to use the shop vac much that day.
One more hoarder: I show up with my helper to install a new walk-in tub. She couldn't use that bathroom because she's old, overweight and in a wheelchair. The tub is storage, she knew we were coming so I assume she just didn't have the ability to clean it up herself prior.
So I grab some gloves and a trash bag and get started. She flips out and tells me to stop and that she'd do it herself. Ok I say, go outside and start unloading tools and prepping the tub for install. Come back in an hour later and she's barely made a dent and hadn't thrown anything away.
Then, when were all finished with the job she had to go through all of our trash bags. The tub we took out was steel so we cut it out, leaving a jagged rim of metal. She wanted the old tub in her front yard of this nice suburban neighborhood. So I inquired as to why and explained it's sharp and dangerous.
She says, "oh that's alright my ducks won't mind". I replied, "oh I didn't know you had ducks"... She says "Well I don't yet". Immediately called the office to tell them she's demanding we leave this in the front yard, I get a chuckle and an ok. About a week later she calls and complains we left a tub in her front yard.

/twokietookie/

I was fresh out of school, skills, aged 21, and just passed the state licensing exam. (In Minnesota you need a degree to become a peace officer.) This was also on my first day on the job. First day of training. First day of everything. (I worked in the jail and have done numerous ride-a-longs with the agency prior to my start date so I knew most of the officers, deputies, and process.) The day started off with getting firearm qualifications done with the Sgt/firearms instructor. Afterwards I meet with my field training officer (let's call him Dan) and we went on duty.
The first three or four hours we spent handing out civil process papers. Things like divorce papers, OFP's, credit debt/loans, court orders, court summons, etc... Eventually we got a call for a medical. A male was playing around with gas and burned his face, arms, and legs to the point where his skin was falling off. We spent a bit of time on that call. Mainly assisting in the helicopter landing. As the heli landed, dispatch sent out a call of a possible DOA. (Dead person) Dan and I hopped in the squad and booked it down to the small down where the call came from.
We arrived on scene after it was already cleared and secured. Dan and I went up to the front door and as we approached an indescribable smell came upon me. I grew up on a hobby farm and knew what dead animals smelt like but this was entirely different. As we opened the door it was a wall of death that hit me. I can't describe it. It's the smell of death and that's it. As we got closer to the room where the body was the smell grew stronger. We entered a bathroom and the second I did I gagged from the smell. I looked over to my right and there he was. A male laying on his side in the bathtub. He was turning paper white. Bubbling coming from his nose, mouth, a spot on his forehead, and his anus. The water was what grossed me out the most. It was brown (feces) mixed with strings of red (blood) with bits of skin floating around. I just stood there and stared at the body for a few seconds before the smell hit me again and I had to step out of the room.
The next couple of hours we waited around for a search warrant and the medical examiner to arrive on scene. When they did, we got ready to go back in. No one had any Vicks so we had to use surgical masks with dabs of "natural oils" on them. We put on our surgical gloves and boot coverings on and made out way back in. We took photos of every room and area inside of them and bout a dozen or so of the body itself. Me being the rookie, the other deputies were going to make me drain the tub first before we pulled the body out of the tub.
I didn't argue because it was my first day and that's not recommended. (That and the Sheriff himself was on scene and was the one who pointed at me when the medical examiner said that the tub needed to be drained first.) Luckily as the ME was in the bathroom putting down a plastic tarp and a blue body bag, she noticed that the drain was above the waterline and drained it. I have never felt so relieved in my entire life up to that point. But I wasn't entirely off the hook. The detective entered the bathroom and asked me to follow him to assist in getting the body out of the tub.
As I entered, I thought to myself, "Okay just hold your breath." But there was no way in hell I was going to be able to hold my breath in the lifting of a 250+ pound human-being, on his side, out a bathtub. I then went quickly thought about *how* I should breath. I debated to breath through my mouth so that I wouldn't smell it or to breath through my nose so I wouldn't taste it. I went with breathing through my nose. I entered the bathroom and the ME had laid a clear plastic tarp over the body to make it a little bit easier for us to grab him and pull him out. The detective said, "Dibs on the legs." and me being the rookie and not arguing, was in charge of the upper body.
My plan was to grab his arm knowing that rigor mortis has for sure set in and his arm bent/curled into his chest, so it should be relatively easy to get a good grip. (He was estimated to have been deceased for ~20 hours. The detective said, "On three we pull him out and on the tarp." At this time, I grabbed his arm and got ready to pull. The next thought that went into my mind was, "He's still fucking warm." then "What if he moves?" The detective then said, "One, two, three..." and he and I pulled him up and over the tub. I felt and heard his right arm make a distinct popping sound as we did this.
We held him in the air for a second before lowering him down into the body bag. At this time the detective and I stepped out of the room to get some better air. I looked back before I left and saw pieces of skin that had slid off and were clinging to the side of the bathtub and body bag and I gagged again. The M.E. then went in and zipped up the bag and at this time the funeral home arrived and had pulled his van into the backyard. He came in with a medical stretcher/Gurney and we placed the body onto it and strapped it in. We then carried him down the back patio stairs and into the funeral home van he went.
We all took off our gloves, boot coverings, and masks and doused our arms in hand sanitizer. At this point our job was complete and we shut the lights off, closed the windows/doors, and secured the residence. A cleaning company is in charge of cleaning the bathroom so fortunately we didn't have to do any of that. (At the time I did not know.) We got back in our squads and headed back to the office and began typing our reports. After spending five to six hours on scene I got home and immediately stripped out of my uniform, threw it in the wash, and jumped into the shower. The thing that sucks the most is that you can never forget the smell. Random times of the day something will smell similar to it and you nearly gag or choke. The best I can describe the smell is a dead animal that has been sitting out for days, mixed with feces, blood, a swamp, and raw rotten meat. Appreciate your cops please. We do more than just write tickets or arrest people.

/DeputyS_135/

Not a plumber but whatever. I used to install/maintain air ducts a few years ago, which put me in basically every room in the house. When we would install the air ducts the houses would vacant, when we cleaned them however, there would more than likely be people living there.
One day I arrive at a job and this creepy bald man with glasses answers the door with an unsettling smile. He seemed very quite, but aware, like he was thinking 1000/wpm but barely said anything. His house was clean and orderly, there was a table with a vase of flowers as I walked in, a nice big mirror and some candles. His beady eyes and turtle neck kinda freaked me the fuck out.
Anyways, I was there to clean the ducts, and I didn't want to spend any more time then I needed to in this guys place so I got straight to work. I slip on my boot covers, head upstairs to go room to room to start sealing off all the vents. Some clients follow me through their house which is kind of awkward, but most of them just go about what they would normally do. It seemed this guy wasn't to interested in following me as he quickly disappeared as soon as I started. As I go up the stairs I'm noticing all the framed photo's he has on the wall along the stairway, quite a bit of them. Focus.
Enter room #1, an empty room. Nothing but what seemed to be clothes hanging in the closet. I loved that. Sometimes I'm expected to rife around a cluttered mess looking for the vent while feeling awkward about touching/moving things that don't belong to me in order to access the vents, but nope, not this time. The vent was calling my name. Easy as fuck. Enter room #2, Jackpot. Another completely empty room. Maybe this guy just moved in, whatever, I didn't give a fuck. I sealed that mother fucker up so fast and was on my way to the next room. On my way out though I catch a glimpse of the closet, again, clothes hanging in an otherwise empty room. I thought it was a little bit weird. Why 2 rooms with nothing but clothes... and the clothes were a little bit... off putting. Just... something about them didn't sit right with me.
I gtfo. Enter room #3. The master room. To my surprise this room was also almost completely empty, just a bed and a dresser, vent in full site. seal it up and bolt downstairs... but wait... the closet is a little bit opened. It was one of those closets that have a big mirror like sliding door on tracks. THE SAME FUCKING CLOTHES. It started to piss me off kinda. I knew something wasn't right about these clothes. First of all, they all seemed so... small... Like I saw more of the hanger than the clothes. Second of all, they were all like something nobody would wear. Pale pastel coloured yellow and pinks and blues. stripes and polkadots. The clothes all looked consistent, clean, new even. My curiosity got the best of me, and I normally would not give a fuck about something like this but something seemed so off about this that I had to go take a look.
First I went to the staircase to make sure the guy wasn't anywhere near. I heard him walking around downstairs so I ran to the closet to take a look. What I saw made my heart sink. I stood there, holding my breath, kind of paralyzed as I was looking at CHILD CLOTHING. All different sized child clothing, male and female from end to end in this grown ass mans (who seemingly lived alone) closet. I backed away. Went to room number 1. Same thing. Childs clothing. Full! His closet was at maximum capacity of childs clothing of different sizes. I didn't even need to check room #2, because I knew it would be the same. Freaked out, I took a few breathes, calmed myself and started heading downstairs. There must be some sort of reasonable explanation for all of this. Right?
Next I had to now seal the vents on the main floor. I started heading downstairs just kind of like a bumbling idiot... Remember all those framed photos on the wall that I saw on my way up? I actually looked at them on my way down. First one that I looked at, a child in what seemed to be some sort of school photos, and then I looked and they were ALL children. Every. Single. One. I just scanned my eyes and I didn't want to look anymore. I felt bad. How did he know all of these children? I honestly didn't know what to make of it, and what to make of this man. I made it downstairs. Couldn't make eye contact with the man. Sealed up all the vents on the main floor.
My mind was going so many places that I completely forgot my next task after all the vents were covered. I had to go down into this creeps fucking BASEMENT to where his furnace is so I can cut a hole in his duct work to put the vacuum. Let me be clear I DID NOT want to go down there. I was actually freaking out in the inside. Whatever though, I had to do it. I put on my sunglasses (I don't know why, I thought they might protect me somehow) and headed down there with my drill, saw, huge vacuum and some sheet metal. I told myself that I was not going to look at anything except my work. I was doing good, although a little shaky. I start my work, cutting holes, switching air, brushing.
As I'm patching up my last hole my eyes wonder around the dark basement. My sunglasses had long been taken off in that dark basement. Other than being almost completely empty my eyes come to a stop on a freaking baby crib in the far dark corner of the basement. A BABY CRIB. I shit you not. I wasn't even finished completely covering the whole but that was it. I grabbed my tools and bolted out of there. Didn't even say bye or get payment from the guy. Just noped the fuck out of there.

/jcrowz/

I work property management. Boy have I seen some things. So many different stories but two stick out the most. One of my first awkward encounters, we had previously served notice that we were coming to fix the tiles around a newly installed toilet. We knocked, I hear the tenant talking, not what he is saying but just his voice. I knock again, louder.

This guy comes to the door all huffy like and opens it while hiding his bottom half behind the door, clearly naked. He is pissed were are there, told him we already have notice and had the pros here we had to come in. He tells us to wait (while I assume he got some pants)... not exactly. He went to put his bright green banana hammock on. He is super grumpy now but let’s us in. I send the contractor into the bathroom and I’m standing in the hall way outside as per policy.
Well the neon green banana man is sitting in the dining room in full view on his computer. He had a large bowl on cereal munching on it while barking extremely degrading orders into a head set. I leaned back slightly to look at his screen, he was watching some sort of live stream bdsm porn.
This very small woman was tied up in what looked like a murderers basement and he was telling someone else in the basement how to torture her. So so so thankful the headphones were plugged in.
The second was only about a year ago. I had to go talk to an extreme hoarder. Like worst case I have ever seen. We were arranging for a company to come help him but I had to talk about the expectations with the fire marshal. It was bad, very bad. Walls from shoulder height down were black. Breathing was next to impossible, his toilet was broken but he didn’t want us in his unit so he was using buckets and putting lids on them.
Creepy ass dolls and doll parts were sticking out of random chest high piles, but he was mostly calm. He was ready for the help. Except for this welded fridge freezer combo he had in the dining room. It was his moms and she had died a few years ago, he didn’t want that being touched, but it had wires hanging from the back and looked to be leaking liquids.
Fire marshal said we had to look at it to see if it could be saved without being a health issue. Took us three hours to get to them (this was a tiny 2 bedroom apartment) we get there and the smell....oh my god the smell I couldn’t breathe, my eyes were pouring. I had a respirator on and smelly gel on the inside, it wasn’t helping.
We finally get the doors open and I swear I almost died. I was gagging and heaving and the poor fire marshals eyes looked like they were going to pop out. This poor man had kept all the food given to him from when his mom died, people made him his favourite recipes that his mom use to make him. But he didn’t want to eat it, he wanted to keep it.
So he piled them in the fridge and freezer, with his mom’s picture in each. But a few years ago they broke, he has taken the back apart trying to fix it to save the food but couldn’t. He said he would occasionally open them to look at the food to remember her. It was so sad and so disgusting at the same time.

/chromeonyx/

Did plumbing but also real estate work for several years. Two stories. I went to see a woman who was thinking about selling her house so I could tell her how much she could probably get for it. She had one of those old attached brick row houses that are only about 18 feet wide.
She led me around the house showing me all the different rooms until we came to the basement door. As I went down the stairs she began to apologize for the way her husband kept the area down there. I told her it was fine, that I had been in a lot of basements before and it was no big deal.
As I reached the bottom of the stairs and turned into the room I found myself staring into the propeller of a full sized bi-plane!!! He had built the entire body of the plane down there with the wheels, engine, windshield and tail section in this little basement!!! I was completely surprised and began to laugh my head off at the absurdity of what I was seeing.
She explained that her husband had built the entire thing himself from a kit. She said that the body was just small enough to slide out the front door of the cellar. Once he was finished with assembling the rest of the body they'd bring it outside where the wings would be attached and it would be ready to fly. That was by far the most surprising thing I've ever seen in someone's house!!!
The other incident was more shocking that surprising and not nearly as pleasant. Went to look at a house that another lady was thinking about selling. The lady was well into her 80's as far as I could tell and had survived the concentration camps in World War 2.
She showed me the number that had been tattooed on her arm by the Nazis. She lived in an area where she was one of the only white people, yet despite being a victim herself of extreme racism she had extremely racist views towards the people living around her.
The most bizarre thing about her though, was that along with two big german shepard dogs she also owned two little monkeys. The monkeys ran crazy all over the living room while I sat down on the couch.
They were climbing along the tops of the curtains and doors and everything else. As they ran around they were pooping all over the place. It was just falling out of them as they ran or as they hung from anything. She just sat there like nothing was wrong.
I suddenly realized that the couch I was sitting on was also probably covered with monkey poop. There was no way I could continue to stay in that house let alone walk around in it. She was in the middle of saying something to me when I just excused myself, got up, walked right out the front door, got in my car and drove off. NEVER AGAIN!!!

/kevintravels/

These are different homes but bottles off piss, countless COUNTLESS homes with animal excrement about that wasn’t just a recent unnoticed ‘accident’.....dusty spiked green dildo behind drywall in a laundry room, guy that acted embarrassed to have porn playing on his TV when I entered his apartment who at 10AM offered to fix me a drink (thinkin wtf this mo’fucka gonna squeeze me some orange juice?)

Only to later at the very end of the job tell me I look like his ex lover and offered me a massage I had to decline twice, morbidly obese woman who never moved from her lazy boy even to greet me at the door.

Took a picture of my ass while I was bent over and working (her phone was probably on vibrate but she didn’t think I’d hear the camera shutter noise as I froze, not knowing wtf to do....
Overheard a husband audibly smacking his wife in the head before storming out (I was in a back bedroom but walking out into the living room after I heard him storm out of the house and seeing her holding her head on the couch I put two and two together).....
had a teen at a homeowners house have a grand mal seizure at like 7:45AM after a few min of being there and not even awake yet....being Red Cross certified I was thrust into going over what to do in such a scenario and remember that it helps to calm down people freaking out nearby by establishing some sort of authority and acting like you know what you’re doing....
So upon explaining why I’m supporting his neck and then gonna turn him to the recovery position so he doesn’t swallow his tongue....his mom decides that means I want her to put her fingers in his mouth. Kid clamps down on her fingers.
Cops are there after 911 was called literally within like 2-3 minutes and as the mom got done screaming about her fingers, the other bipolar 19 year old son is cussing out the cops (close to getting arrested) for taking so long.
My most recent favorite however was an oil painting at a woman’s house that had EXTREMELY regal looking cats and Jesus together. When I greeted her she introduced herself as doctor such and such. (There was NOOOOOO way that this woman was ever a doctor)
I’m late to the game and care more about the perceived interest so it’s worth the trouble but if this gets enough upvotes I’ll dig up that cat painting pic lol) I’m sure I’ve got more but these were just off the top.

/CMUpewpewpew/

I am a satellite tv technician, and generally most houses are fine. People usually clean up before we get there, or have their weird relatives disappear for a bi while we are there. However that is not always the case. I was on my second day alone after my training, and I got my weirdest house call I’ve ever had. I pulled up to the house, and it wasn’t particularly bad. The yard wasn’t freshly mowed, but it didn’t look unkempt (pretty good indicator of the insides). There wasn’t any clutter surrounding it, or any red flags. So I went up to knock on the door.

Before I was even to the front porch, I could already smell something off. It was a smell I can only describe as cat piss and shit. Now I’m not talking about cat shit either. I’m talking full blown overflowed Port a’ John with a side of acrid glorious C-Diff (sorry to those that have had to smell this mentally.) Now, being the “professional” that I am I simply decided to ignore the smell and do my job. I figured that I could be in and out fairly quickly, as most of my work was going to be outside anyways.

So I knock on the door. The person that answers the door looks fairly nor they had pajamas on, but on a Saturday at 0800 that wasn’t exactly odd. Then I noticed that they had some brown marks all over the ends of their pant legs. I’m not exactly sure how many of you guys handle gross shit (no pun intended), but I usually try to just not make any comments and move on. There was one problem with that, I couldn’t get into their home without getting something on my boots.

So I threw on some disposable boot covers because hell no I ain’t putting on my washable ones and walking into that. So here I am, fresh off the training boat and afraid to get let go because I didn’t do my job. I was not thinking at all about what I needed to do while I was there, I was only wondering where the definitive source of the smell was coming from. However it did not take long to find what had presumably been the remnants of a bathroom just off the entry way. It looked as though someone had taken a few wheelbarrows of literal shit, and just piled them into the bathtub.

It was perhaps the most disgusting and disturbing thing that I had ever seen. Luckily I had yet to truly find the worst of it yet, as I had at that point not met “MeMaw”. This was perhaps the source of the C-Diff smell. MeMaw was a (rough estimate here) 600 to 700 pound immobile old woman whom was planted on an electric recliner with the bottom cut out of it and a small bucket placed under her. It felt like I was stood there for ages just processing all of this, but I don’t think that it was really more than about 15 seconds. Because that is when the person that led me in said, “Yeah, that’s MeMaw.

She can’t get around no more.” The young man was possibly in his late teens or early 20’s and probably didn’t know any better because this is how it just was. But there was no way that I could let this just stand. So I politely pretended to check a text message, and said my supervisor wanted me to call him.

I went outside and did call my supervisor, however this was to tell him what I saw. I didn’t quite get everything out before he told me to leave and call the elderly protective services. So I got my ads out of there, didn’t even say anything to the customer. I got a couple blocks down the road, pulled up by a park and looked like a creeper and called the EPS and told them everything.

This is normally where the story would end, but I just so happened to know one of the social workers that deals with the elderly. So I called called them and asked if they could get someone there ASAP because it was that bad. About a week later I find out that there were also several young children living there and the parents were cooking meth in the basement.

The adults in the house, including the young man who answered the door, all got arrested and the children and MeMaw were all taken into custody. I never heard anything else about that, and I don’t think that I ever care to.

/Endros99/

So I have a work order in a remote area. Itd about an hour drive from the town I was in so I always call first for directions as theres absolutely no cell service out there. So I get a hold of the guy and he gives me very detailed directions. I dont think anything of it and start my drive.
I get to this very small village and turn down the road he said. Like most ranch roads it's pretty shitty. I keep driving and the road keeps getting worse and worse like literally driving through creeks. He had told me to stay on this road until I come to a really large gate and hell let me in. At this point I'm certain I'm lost with no service so I say screw it and keep driving.
After what seems like an eternity the road suddenly goes from shitty dirt and rock to paved. I'm like oh shit I guess I'm good. After about another 1/4 mile I drive up to this huge gate with lights and video cameras everywhere. I'm like holy shit what is this place in the middle on no where. I hit the intercom and he let's me in and tells me to keep left and drive up to the big house .
I go through the gates and stay on this perfectly paved road. I go around a bend and I see this huge 3 story house on the side of a mountain. I'm like wth where am I. Then i notice to the right off in the distance another house but for some reason this one looks a little familiar.
After a few minutes it finally comes to me. HOLY SHIT IM AT A SCIENTOLOGY BASE CAMP!!! I've always heard it was out in these parts and had seen some stuff on youtube but I'm actually here.
Now keep in mind it's already getting dark so it was a bit creepy at the same time. I go to the house and they introduce themselves. I notice the man and woman have very heavy accents possibly German. The tell me to drive to the back. So I do and by this time its completely dark but as I drive back theres a long driveway behind the house that leads directly into the mountain. I turn on my brights and I can see a very large door it almost looked like some military shelter.
During the entire install the gentleman follows me. The lady said hes there to help but I can tell hes just observing me. So I go to replace the reciever but the cables are stuck. So I tell the guy to help me out and clear the cabinet so I can get to the cable.
He pulls out like 3 or 4 DVD cases and puts them on the table. I look and wouldnt you know they were all Tom Cruise movies. I chuckled hard on the inside. At the end of the install she asked me some very weird questions like who I've worked for in the past. If I told anybody I was coming out there. And wrote my answers down.
She said they needed work done on the other house and that they will request me next time since they are familiar with me. I was paranoid for weeks after that someone would show up at my house lol.

/sajoser17/

Did a wall furnace repair at a rental once while two teenage girls made out on the couch right next to the furnace I was repairing. I mean they were really going at it. I finished the repair right before the clothes started coming off. Needless to say, uncomfortable.
Did a plumbing repair in some gay guys bathroom, and there was a floor to ceiling portrait of some naked guy right across from the toilet. Needless to say, uncomfortable.
There is this lady who I still do jobs for occasionally. She takes 15 minutes to tell me the problem, then instantly bursts into tears. I mean this lady cries at least 5 times while I am there. Needless to say, uncomfortable.
I can't even tell you how many "hoarder" houses I have been in over the last 24 years. One house, this lady had stuff stacked up everywhere. It wasn't smelly or anything, just stacks and stacks of stuff. There were little paths to get to the different rooms. I know she was embarrassed about it. She said to me, "I bet this is the messiest house you've ever been in," to which I replied, "No...but its right up there!"
But without a doubt, the craziest thing ever was about 15 years ago. I had to install an a/c at a house where a schizophrenic lady lived. Her father, the owner of the house, was a great guy, a regular customer. I had been to his daughters house a few times, and for some reason, she was ok with me. Her father had told me ahead of time how to act, what to not say, etc.
So, I got along fine with her. Well, we had a new guy on that job, and he was just out of refrigeration school. He was wearing his uniform he got from the school, as his work issued ones hadn't arrived yet. It had some kind of patch on the shoulder, like a cross.
Also, this guy was tall, like 6'2, and had a shaved head. We get to the job, I go in first to she how she is first, and she seems normal. So I bring the new guy in, to introduce him to her, to make sure she will be ok with him. The second she laid eyes on him, she turned into some kind of evil demon. "NAZI NAZI NAZI!" she starts screaming, I mean at the TOP of her lungs.
The new guy is frozen in fear. I am standing between him and her. She starts grabbing things, books, knickknacks, anything she can, and is hurling them at the new guy, all the while screaming stuff about Nazis and Jew Killers and shes not going to die today....I told the new guy to run. Somehow I managed to calm her down.
I called her father. He had to take her somewhere else for a couple days while we did the job. It really surprised me because I mean me and her would have normal conversations all the other times I was there, but I guess she just snapped when she saw the new guy. edit to add: Needless to say, uncomfortable.

/ST1300rdr/

I've got a lifetime of these stories... I'm an electrician by trade but I work as a sound engineer. I seek out odd or specialized stuff because it's more fun and it usually pays a little more.
I was working as an electrician setting up a very elaborate Christmas light display. Think truckload of cords elaborate. The homeowner was following me around making small talk. No big deal until I really really really needed a bathroom. I asked if I could use theirs. His demeanor changed immediately and he said he had to ask his mom.
Everything seemed odd. He came back a few seconds later and said it was ok but I couldn't step on anything. The house was absolutely FULL of junk. Old food containers, literal junk. It was nasty. I noticed a few years later it had all been cleaned up and a family lives there now. No clue what happened to the people or how it all got cleaned out.
I installed a 240v. Outlet for a window air conditioner in a house owned by a bedridden woman who claimed to live alone. The breaker panel was in the basement. Most of the basement floor had been hand chipped out and a tunnel dug to who knows where. A thick (4/4 type W for those of you who know electricity) was tapped into the breaker panel (ahead of the main breaker. They loosend the lugs and wired it in). It disappeared down the tunnel. The cord was quite warm and I could hear some sort of thing whirring off in the distance. Panel measured 102 volts to ground on either phase. I didn't go down the tunnel. Told the boss about it and I'm not sure what happened or what the deal was.
I was sent to replace a meter & panel in an abandoned house that had been badly flooded. Work order said to check exterior lights, too, one of which was on a 2nd floor soffit and wired through the attic. The house was completely empty, except for one creepy black and white picture of a woman standing behind an empty chair.
The painting was sitting on the floor of a closet that had a junction box in it. When I went into the attic to trace a fault with that outside light, the chair and the glasses were there. Not horrible, but it wierded me out. It was a bank owned house. Not sure of the story.
Not a house but still amusing. I got sent to a ski hill to repair loudspeaker wiring a few summers ago. I opened a junction box to find 120/208v 3 Phase, 480v 3 Phase, 24vdc control, cable TV, low voltage microphone wiring, 200v loudspeaker wiring and a random switch that controlled who knows what. There was no discernable color code to any of it (480 was purple, green, and red. Yikes).
There was a wiring diagram labeled in Spanish, a dead mouse, part of a squirrel nest, and an active hornet's nest that swarmed like mad. It was right next to a sand volleyball court with a bunch of people hanging out. They got a good laugh when the guy in boots, jeans, a long sleeve blue collar shirt (work uniform) and a tool belt was suddenly hopping around dodging a swarm of angry hornets. I'm not allergic, thankfully, because I got stung about 50 times. My repair/ workaround is still in service, though, so that's nice I guess.
Not a house but I was at a school once and a kid drank an entire Costco sized bottle of hand sanitizer on a dare. I assume he dissolved or something. I didn't stick around to find out. The principal was already tearing her hair out over it. I love my job. Not sarcasm. It's actually cool. I've got a ton of stories like this.

/h2opolodude4/

Locksmith. Helped an old lady get into her house bcus she got locked out (not the best area around and also it’s dark out). The lady lived alone, she had no family. Her neighbor (friendly dude who grew up next to her and much younger) called for her to get me there.
Now the lady is OLD. Like old but with capital letters OLD (legit like 80+). I can tell she’s not all there and that’s fine, I got the patience for it.
Only thing is that she’s very protective of her house and asks me not to look inside when I do get the door open. Fine. I just ask if there’s any animals that might rush me if I open the door. She says the only two animals she has are cats so I should be ok.
I work my finesse on the door and I can hear the click of the doorknob come unlock. I push the door but it won’t budge... Maybe the second lock is also engaged? Nope...
So she tells me that I have to push hard bcus she hasn’t cleaned up and it’s messy so maybe there’s stuff in the way. I push hard and eventually it cracks a bit (enough space for her to get inside as that’s all the door allows for). At this point I have not looked inside, but I tell her that I must go inside if she wants me to change the lock to get her new keys. She asks me once again not to look. Fine.
There are apparently no lights in her house (I forgot why, maybe electric bill). Fine. I pull out my phone light and attempt to squeeze through the small opening as the door still won’t budge. As soon as I’m able to squeeze into the door I am suddenly 1-2 ft higher.
Ok... strange. Apparently the house is flooded with newspapers EVERYWHERE, stacks of about 1-2 ft high anywhere you looked. Fine. Second of all, right next to the door, there is also a bucket full of excrement & urine. Less fine, but not the worst part.
As I’m working to remove this lock from the backside, standing on tons of newspapers in the dark & half holding my flashlight, I hear a noise coming from behind me, almost like a very heavy animal moving across a wooden surface. Fine, I remember her saying that she has two cats. As I direct my flashlight behind me, a shiver goes up my spine... I am looking at a GIANT. BIG. FAT. R A T!!!! (or mouse, I still know the difference).
Not fine! Not fine! I swear this thing was double the size of any house cat, maybe weighed 20lbs. It was HUGE. I finished the job quick and gtfo of there! I pulled the dude aside and let him know what I saw in there, and he said he would try and get her some help. It still breaks my heart to this day to think about this situation. I can’t believe the lady thought there were cats running around her home all this time.

/urfavoritecrayon/

Not my story, my father's story. Several years ago my father owned a very successful construction and real estate company in New Jersey/New York, a big reason he was so successful was because he had ties with the bank when they would repossess a house, they'd usually call up my father and ask him if he'd like to buy the property directly from them, so they didn't have to list it through a real estate company.
The bank called my father, they repossessed a large townhouse in Brooklyn. An old woman lived there, and if he was willing to help her out of the house, they'd sell it to him for really cheap. My father wondered why they were selling a Brooklyn townhouse for so cheap, as he drove over there.
There must have been 50 cats, throughout all stages of development. Kittens, young cats, old cats, DEAD cats. Everywhere. Absolutely everywhere. In every single room there were three or more cats, filthy, and feral. My father trudged up the stairs in his suit, to find the woman who buzzed him in, she was old and so tiny, she was eating cat food.
He helped her pack up and find any heirlooms, or photographs that were amongst the trash, he packed her a suitcase, and carried her down the stairs to the awaiting van, where she went to a nursing home. Some weird things he found in the house were:
Baby shoes, a suspicious amount of baby shoes. Not just a few pairs, over thirty sets of baby shoes, all over the house. Two sets were bronzed, one was in the pantry, and the other was in the basement.
Coins, from Russia. A small tin for sewing supplies was full of Russian coins, some from as far back as 1900's, but mostly from the Cold War. She was a Holocaust survivor from Poland.
Lots of photographs, buried under rotting books. My father collecting what he could, and brought it to her later. Her citizenship papers, from when she immigrated to America, they were in a drawer of a dresser full of clothing. My father framed it for her, and. Last I heard of her was several years ago.
The house had REEKED of cat piss, and they had to pay for a team of hazmat cleaners to clear everything out, animal control dispatched over ten officers just to get the feral cats out of the house and to the vet. My father ended up having to pay a load of money to tear down the walls that had soaked up the stench of death, and piss.
I was reminded of this story this morning, I forgot to start the dishwasher last night, and all the gross food was fermenting and stewing in that dark and humid dishwasher, and when my father opened it this morning he said in his thick New York accent: "Oh my god this stinks worse than the cat lady's house in Flatbush." The Universe is mysterious!

/WritingCapacity/

First off, let me start by saying that those people that don't work in other peoples homes won't realise this, but hoarders are far more common than you think man. I'd say that at least one house in every street is home to a person or family that seems to have a problem differentiating prized personal possession from trash. It's a spectrum too, with different types and levels of severity. I've seen hundreds of their homes, I consider myself experienced enough to state this.
The range is vast, from your average neckbeard basking in a sea of empty beer and coke cans, with a bed of rotten pizza boxes lurking below, and storing hundreds of gallons of their own urine in 8 pint milk cartons, to your generally otherwise normal dude or family that get attached to their clutter and don't realise their home is a museum for useless trinkets that no one possibly has any use for. Ever.
A couple stick out to me in my memory. One was your average family guy, wife, two kids, 3 bedroom house. If it weren't for the fact that his house was filled to the brim with generic junk, it would just be a house that still had fixtures and fittings from the 1970s and needed a fucking good scrub. What struck me though is that the entire family lived in this manner. There were paths all around the house through the clutter, which was mostly piled up 6 feet high. It was so claustrophobic it felt like you were in a maze made from useless junk, stuck to these winding rat runs no wider than a person, and a few times shrunk in so that you would have to sidestep through. It was dark too, since it only had your 70s esque pendant lights fitted sparingly throughout the house, one per room, with a brown lampshade totally opaque from dust, and a 40 watt light bulb. It would make little difference anyway, even if they were football stadium floodlights on the ceiling, because getting to the lightswitch was another expedition through the cave system that his house had become. Seriously thought I had a vitamin D deficiency after that one. Another one was less Paris Catacombs, and more open waste. I remember the lady being clearly deficient in some mental capacity, and she looked like a witch with a crooked nose and a mole with black hairs thick as a rope sticking out of it. She had little to no sense of other peoples personal space, to the extent I could count the eyelashes if I wanted.
Besides her though, the place was covered in dirt and trash. So much so, that someone, sometime had painted the walls and ceilings black, to try and hide it. It stank too, since this woman was somehow utterly immune to cancer and heart disease, since she was about 120 years old, and smoked about a hundred cigarrettes a day. There were ash trays everywhere. Any flat surface that you can think of, imagine an ashtray on it. And every single one was filled past the brim, surrounded by hundreds of butts, on the carpet, table, kitchen counter, side of the bath, all of it. Each one looked like a little ashtray volcano, erupting magma made from cigarrette butts. If you stamped on the carpet the ash would rise up into the air as high as your face. That old lady (I say old, she looked ancient, but she smoked so much that she might be 23) must be immune to asbestos too, because everything in that house being covered in it is the only thing I can think of preventing it from burning to the ground on a weekly basis.
The one I went to more than once I remember well. This was a beautiful (originally, and potentially) Victorian townhouse, 4 stories, attic and basement. These houses were built in a fashion that resembled a rabbit warren internally anyway, so when you put a hoarder in one, working in there becomes more a cavediving experience than a plumbing experience. The dude that lived there was about 90 years old, and gigantic for his age, 6'5" or so. Not skinny either. He was a nice man but clearly suffering from several mental disorders, some age based dementia, some, maybe always were there. He was a very posh old man, with hair like a thin white wire brush, and mutton chops big enough to put a 17th century whaler to shame. Also he wore really distinctive clothes. It always looked like this giant mutton chopped whaler was dressed for a Rupert The Bear fancy dress competition. He was a bumbling old aristocat type, when he spoke imagine Boris Johnson at 90, severe dementia, and drunk.
This beautiful house he owned was like the devil knew about the other two I have mentioned, and combined them into a dark, stinking, unsanitary and claustrophobic nightmare. It was a couple of centuries old too, and in a severe state of disrepair, as you can imagine. The man was apparently an antique and rare book dealer, and clearly had used his house as some kind of store room. Books as old as the house stacked up both sides of the stair well, cabinets down both sides of the narrow hallways, spilling over with random items. There were obviously things that he had owned for nearly his whole life, and over the decades there had been at least a couple of attempts to organise it. Occasionally you would come across something like "the thimble draw" which was exactly what it sounds like, and a cupboard 6 feet tall and 3 feet wide, filled with nothing but egg cups. The porcelain room, which was actually a corridor to the boiler room, was fitted with shelves both sides, leaving a gap only wide enough to sidestep through, about 12 feet long. Crockery and china covered every inch of shelf space. If you took all the stuff out of that room, and poured it into a skip, that skip would be full, it was that much china. Getting to the boiler room with a toolbox was like someone robbing priceless art from a museum, and trying not to trigger the trip wires.
The house was dirty too, and I do mean filthy. On the top floor was a bathroom. It had your run of the mill UK 1970s avacado green bathroom in there somewhere. It was difficult to tell because they had just used it all until it wasn't physically possible to, then abandoned it for another bathroom. They must have been under the impression that the other bathrooms were spares, and they still had a few to go before they needed to repair any. The toilet had been shit in and pissed in well after the flush had given up, leaving a rim high mountain of toxic waste. The shower had long ago broken the seal around it and water had taken the ceiling below it down years ago. The bowl of the basin was black, and had undiscovered life in it. If one were to look at the ceiling, it was convex. About the radius of your standard banana.
This was because if you got up into the attic, donned your cavediving equipment and took the four day expedition across the 20 or so feet from the loft hatch to the area above this bathroom, you would find the largest collection of National Geographic magazines stacked on shelves that were themselves, mostly collapsed from the weight of these magazines, and were bowing the floor joists from it. This haphazard pile of broken shelving and National Geopgraphics was massive enough that flies and other small insects appeared to be circling it. Upon closer inspection I saw that they were caught in its gravity well.
There was a truly disturbing room too. It was his sons bedroom. His son, was by now well into his 60s. He too suffered from derangements. Trouble with him, was he was a violent alcoholic, and prone to temper tantrums. He was as large a man as his father, so 60 plus years or not, he could do some damage. He had never worked a day in his life, just bummed off the old man. His bedroom was on the floor with the abandoned bathroom, and we suspect it was him that continued to use it well beyond its functioning of just a room, let alone a bathroom. He was creepy, and his room was creepier.. It was the same bedroom he had for his whole life, and nothing since the 1950s had been changed. Same bed, same wallpaper, same toys on the shelves, same books, curtains, everything. It was your typical boys bedroom from the 1950s, small, cramped, filled with kids stuff. Except it was now filthy and rotten, never been cleaned, and not touched or picked up in decades. It looked like a horror film in there anyway, but when you took the 6'5" alcoholic lying on a single bed 6 inches shorter than he is long, in a pile of piss, shit and puke that has been building up for years the truth became clear. You are in hell, and this is its arsehole. There's loads more, hellhounds, Shelob, strange mental people in their underpants, poo nightmares, daleks, but I ran out of space.

[redacted]

Cop. Going into people's houses is usually disturbing in one way or another, but the one that probably takes the cake is flea guy.
I dunno what had happened prior to us getting a welfare check call from a neighbour, but when we turned up the apartment door was unlocked but had a chain across it. I was the only one small enough to fit through the gap so I sidled my way in with my offsider waiting outside.
Anyway I get in and I look around (it was pitch black in the apartment) and I immediate see what looks like a fucking floating body, and my first reaction is oh shit, suicide, but then he looks like he's sitting down and my skin feels prickly which I chalked up to goosebumps.
Anyway I take another step in (at this point I'm maybe a foot away from the front door and I've managed to unchain it) and before I can say anything he fucking moves, in what looks like midair, and I pretty much screamed cause I thought for sure he was dead.
Finally find a light switch and turn it on to see that my guy is 1) naked, 2) perched on a pile of newspapers as tall as I am, 3) wielding a carving knife and 4) that the walls, floor, and every available inch of space are covered in fleas.
Fleas. My skin wasn't crawling because I was creeped out, it was literally crawling from the fleas that had managed to climb up my arm and into my clothes from when I'd unchained the door and turned on the light.
We literally had to be decontaminated before we could go anywhere and went home in little paper clothes smh.
Old mate was alright in the end, they got him on some medication that balanced out his mental health issues and he ended up calling us to say thanks and apologise for the fleas.
I've seen some shit that I never would've believed to be real or possible before I got the job and this is still the one that gives me nightmares.

/pocketn3rd/

I'm a plumber who installs water heaters and I was scheduled to do an estimate on a water heater near our office. Before I arrived I called the customer to tell them my ETA. The conversation went like this, "Hello this is Nomadders. I'm about 20 minutes away from your house. Are you currently available?" Customer: "Hey there Nomadders! I'm home right now. But, uhh come to the back door. The front door doesn't work. But I'll see you soon thanks for calling"
(After he said the front door didn't work. I got weirded out because he lived in a relatively decent neighborhood. I thought maybe he broke the knob recently.) I arrived at his house with my apprentice. I looked at the front door, it totally looked like someone smashed/kicked his door in. Then, I pull into his driveway and then the customer comes out of his backdoor. He looked like a guy who had been up all night doing cocaine. Half bald, long sleeved shirt with boxers on. And it was hot as balls outside. Weird as hell but whatever.
The first thing the customer says to me is, "You guys don't recognize THIS house?" I told him, "What do you mean?" He then tells me, "Yeah man! I had a police standoff here! They sent in a robot and I shot that son of a bitch with a 12 gauge shotgun!" Then I noticed all of his windows in the back are boarded up with plywood. After that he tells me, " Yeah the boards are over the windows because they tear gassed the house. I got a felony but don't worry I'm a good guy!"
Don't ask me why but I went into this fucking guy's house. In hindsight I should have probably just got in my truck and left. He leads me to the water heater from the backdoor. The first thing I noticed was that there was tarps and plastic wrap on the kitchen walls. He then tells me, "The reason I have the tarps on the walls is because of the tear gas! We're remodeling too!"
Then we reach his living room and he says, "We're still moving in so yeah sorry for the mess." His living room was FILLED with books, random written papers and a bunch of news paper clippings. He also had random writings on the wall that looked like Bible verses in spray paint and computer document paper. Also, a bunch of plastic ziplock bags on the floor with clippings in them.
Now I've been in a lot of people's houses. Hoarders, crazy cat people, etc. But I had this weird feeling that of a man who was obsessed with SOMETHING. He shows me the upstairs room where his water heater is and he says, "Yeah the last time I had my water heater changed was around the time I had my divorce about 5 years ago. Damn 5 years have really passed that quickly?" I tell him everything that's wrong with his water heater. And noticed that his water heater was manufacturered/installed 12 years ago. But I didn't tell him because it's leaking and he just needs another one.
He agrees that he needs another because he wants the leak in his celling to stop. Then he gets irate and his face turns menacing basically he says don't fuck me over because I've had people do it in the past. (I've had customers tell me not to screw them over but not with a face that says I'm gonna stab you.) I give him the quote, he gives me the go ahead to do the job but I tell him I need to leave and get supplies. Then he proceeds to lay down on his couch and immediately pass out. (He doesn't even care that I'm gonna just walk out of his house with his doors unlocked)
As we're walking back. My apprentice (who's been quietly with me) tells me, "Dude! What the fuck are you doing start the car let's get the fuck away from this house! He's totally crazy! You didn't see all that shit on his walls?!" I then tell him. "I mean, yeah but it's probably fine. Right?" ( My mind was kinda blown by what I just saw so I wasn't thinking straight) Then it all made sense. Then he says, "Dude did you see how pissed he got about fucking him over? If we do this job we cannot be alone. Ffs he says he shot a robot with a shotgun!"
Basically, I end up calling my boss and telling him that I can't do this job because I didn't feel safe at the customer's house. Told him about everything we saw. My boss told me it was fine because he wouldn't of done that job if he saw the same stuff we did. I texted the customer and said our work truck was having trouble and it had to immediately be taken to the shop. (I was too spooked by this guy to call him at this point.) Later on, in the day I got curious and googled his guy and learned that he indeed had a police standoff after a wellness check. He also was associated with a cult and interviewed in which he claims it had affected his mental status. He recovered at one point but eventually he reverted. It led to his divorce, job loss, and etc.

/Nomadders/

As a seasoned plumber with over a decade of experience, I've encountered my fair share of odd jobs. However, nothing quite compares to the incident at the old Victorian mansion. The request seemed straightforward enough - inspect and repair the ancient sewage system, untouched since the early 1900s.

The mansion, with its gothic architecture and sprawling gardens, was imposing. As I navigated the labyrinth of old pipes, a sense of unease settled over me. These pipes, rusted and creaking with age, had stories to tell.

My first discovery was a series of unusual, off-map piping. Curiosity piqued, I followed this hidden network deep into the mansion's underbelly. The air grew colder, and the silence was deafening.

I stumbled upon a small, concealed room. The door was barely hanging onto its hinges, and inside, a treasure trove of the past awaited. Dust-laden newspapers from the early 1900s, personal belongings, and a set of tools that unmistakably belonged to a plumber were scattered around.

The room felt frozen in time, a snapshot of a bygone era. But the most chilling aspect was the personal diary I found, belonging to a plumber who worked on the mansion over a century ago. The entries were sporadic, detailing a solitary and secretive life.

As I delved deeper into the diary, I learned of the plumber's growing paranoia and fear of something in the mansion. His final entry was an unfinished sentence, abruptly cut off, as if he had been suddenly interrupted.

After reporting my find, the mansion's owners delved into its history. They uncovered a chilling fact - the plumber had vanished without a trace, sparking rumors and legends among the locals.

To this day, I'm haunted by the questions that room posed. What happened to that plumber? What was he afraid of? And why did he choose to hide away in that secret room?

This experience, more than any clogged drain or leaking pipe, has stayed with me, reminding me that every job has the potential to uncover hidden histories and unsolved mysteries.

- RedditPlumberTales

It was an ordinary Tuesday when I received a frantic call from a newlywed couple. The wife, in a bout of post-marriage bliss, had accidentally flushed her precious diamond wedding ring down the toilet.

Upon arriving, I was greeted by a scene of utter despair. The wife was in tears, and the husband, equally distraught, explained the ring's sentimental and financial value. It wasn't just a piece of jewelry; it was a symbol of their love.

Preparing for the messy task ahead, I reassured them that I'd do my utmost to retrieve the ring. Dismantling the toilet, I ventured into the murky depths of the plumbing system.

Hours of careful searching ensued. I navigated through the labyrinth of pipes, each twist and turn a potential hiding spot for the elusive ring. The couple's anxious faces loomed over me, their hope hanging by a thread.

Then, amidst the sludge and darkness, my fingers brushed against something hard and metallic. Carefully extracting it, I realized I had found the ring. It was coated in grime, but unmistakably the lost treasure.

The couple's relief was palpable. The wife, tears turning to joy, hugged her husband, while he, in a moment of overwhelming gratitude, confessed the ring's value exceeded their car's worth.

They insisted on giving me a substantial tip for my efforts, but seeing their joy was reward enough. I politely declined, happy to have restored a piece of their happiness.

As I left their home, the couple's laughter and thanks echoed behind me. It was a stark reminder of the unexpected ways my work impacts lives.

This experience, finding and returning the wedding ring, wasn't just a job well done. It was a testament to the unexpected treasures and stories hidden within the mundane routines of my profession.

- PlumberHero1986

There's always been something intriguing about the supernatural, but as a plumber, it's not something I expected to encounter. That changed with a job in a house reputed to be haunted.

The house, an old Victorian structure, had been experiencing persistent plumbing issues. The local legend claimed it was haunted by the original owner. I dismissed these stories as mere superstitions, focusing instead on the task at hand.

As I began working, the atmosphere in the house felt unusually heavy. The creaks and groans of the old pipes seemed more pronounced, almost like whispers echoing in the walls.

Halfway through the job, strange occurrences began. Tools that I had just set down would mysteriously move to the other side of the room. At first, I brushed it off as forgetfulness, but it kept happening.

The turning point was when a sudden, icy draft swept through the basement. Simultaneously, the pipes vibrated violently, as if something was rushing through them. The sensation was unnerving, and for the first time, I questioned if there was more to the house's reputation.

Working as quickly as possible, I tried to ignore the growing sense of unease. The noises seemed to grow louder, and the temperature dropped further, making my breath visible in the air.

The climax of the experience was when a shadowy figure briefly appeared in the corner of my eye. When I turned, there was nothing there, but the feeling of being watched was overwhelming.

I completed the job in record time, eager to leave the oppressive atmosphere of the house. As I packed up, the feeling of relief was tangible, like a weight lifting off my shoulders.

Reflecting on the experience, I'm still not sure if what I encountered was paranormal or just a series of coincidences in an old, creaky house. But it's an experience that has stayed with me, a reminder that sometimes, the unknown can be just around the corner.

- TheSkepticalPlumber

In my years as a plumber, I've come across all sorts of hidden spaces and forgotten items, but nothing compares to the discovery I made in an old suburban house.

The job was routine - fix a leaky pipe in the bathroom. But as I removed a section of the wall tiles, I noticed something peculiar. a false panel, cleverly hidden.

Driven by curiosity, I carefully pried open the panel. What I found inside was astonishing - a secret compartment filled with an eclectic collection of items.

There were moldy, antique books, piles of cash in various denominations, and what appeared to be ancient artifacts. The room was a time capsule, a hidden trove of treasures.

The homeowner, an elderly lady, was as surprised as I was. She had lived in the house for decades and had no idea about the hidden stash. The previous owner, she mentioned, had been somewhat of a recluse.

A deeper investigation revealed the truth. The previous owner had been a notorious local gangster who had used the house to hide his ill-gotten gains.

The discovery led to a police investigation. It was surreal to be in the middle of a real-life crime mystery, my routine plumbing job turning into a chapter of a detective novel.

The items were eventually seized by the authorities, and the house became a subject of local fascination. I couldn't help but wonder what other secrets lay hidden in the mundane corners of people's homes.

This job was a stark reminder that every house has its stories, some hidden away behind walls, waiting for someone to stumble upon them.

- PlumbDetective

As a plumber working in rural areas, I've had my fair share of encounters with wildlife. But nothing prepared me for the day I came face to face with a massive snake in the pipes.

The job was to clear a blockage in a farmhouse's plumbing. The homeowner warned me about potential critter problems, but I didn't expect what was to come.

As I worked on the pipes, I felt a sudden movement against my hand. Startled, I withdrew to find a large snake emerging from the pipe I was working on.

My heart raced as I scrambled back. The snake, seemingly just as surprised as I was, slithered around, trying to find its way out.

After regaining my composure, I called animal control. They arrived quickly and identified the snake as a non-venomous species, likely chasing a rodent when it got stuck.

Watching the experts safely remove the snake, I couldn't help but feel a mix of relief and awe. It was a rare encounter, and luckily, no one was hurt.

The rest of the job was uneventful, but the experience left a lasting impression. Every time I reach into a pipe now, the memory of that snake lingers in the back of my mind.

The farmhouse owner was grateful for the handling of the situation, joking that I was not just a plumber but a wildlife rescuer. We shared a laugh, but the adrenaline of the moment was still fresh.

That day's work was a vivid reminder of the unexpected challenges and surprises that come with being a plumber, especially in rural areas where nature is just a pipe away.

- SnakePlumberAdventures

It began as a routine job in the old part of the city, fixing a reported leak in a network of underground pipes. As a plumber with years of experience, I was used to the unpredictable.

Digging deeper, I found that the leak was part of a much larger issue. The pipes had ruptured, not due to age or wear, but because they were resting on something unexpected - an underground river.

The discovery was startling. Maps and city plans showed no record of this waterway. It was as if I had stumbled upon a hidden vein of the city.

Working alongside city engineers, we explored this hidden river. It was a surreal experience, wading through waterways beneath bustling streets, the city's heartbeat above oblivious to our discovery.

As we navigated, we found relics of the past. old coins, fragments of pottery, and even remnants of what seemed like an old settlement.

The river, it seemed, was part of the city's history, long forgotten and buried under layers of modern development.

The job turned into a major project. We worked to reroute the pipes and preserve this newfound piece of history.

The discovery sparked interest among historians and archaeologists who flocked to study the underground river and its secrets.

This experience was a reminder of how much lies beneath our feet, hidden and waiting to be rediscovered. It wasn't just another plumbing job; it was a journey into the past.

- UndergroundPlumber

The call was to fix a leak in an old mansion, but what I found was more than just faulty plumbing. The leak led me to a hidden room, sealed off for decades.

The room was behind a false wall in the basement. Inside, it was like stepping back in time. Dust-covered furniture, old paintings, and a grand piano filled the space.

Amidst the relics, I found letters and diaries dating back to the early 1900s, detailing the life of the family who once lived there.

The more I read, the more I uncovered about a tragic love story and a family feud that had torn the house apart.

It appeared that the room had been a secret meeting place for two lovers from feuding families.

As I fixed the leak, I couldn't help but feel like a guardian of history, preserving the legacy of the star-crossed lovers.

Finishing the job, I informed the current owners about the room. They were amazed, having no knowledge of this hidden chapter of their home.

The discovery led to the restoration of the room and a deeper appreciation for the mansion's history.

This job was a poignant reminder that sometimes, the walls we build hide more than just pipes; they hide stories waiting to be told.

- RomanticPlumber

I was called to an old school to clear a stubborn blockage in the drainage system. Having worked in plumbing for years, I was ready for the challenge, but this job turned out to be a journey down memory lane.

The blockage was deep in the system, beneath the school's oldest building. As I worked to clear it, I found the cause. a metal box, rusted but intact.

Curiosity got the best of me, and with permission, I opened the box. Inside, a treasure trove of memories was revealed - it was a time capsule, buried by students decades ago.

The contents were a snapshot of the past. old photographs, letters, toys, and even a vinyl record. Each item told a story of the era and the hopes of those who buried it.

I felt like a guardian of history as I carefully examined each item, thinking about the hands that had last touched them.

With the school's consent, I cleaned and preserved the contents before they were showcased in a special ceremony, inviting alumni and former teachers.

The event turned into a reunion, with people reconnecting and sharing stories inspired by the items in the capsule.

It was heartwarming to see how a simple plumbing job could unearth memories and bring people together.

This experience was a reminder of the unexpected connections we can find in our work, bridging the past and present in the most unanticipated ways.

- MemoryLanePlumber

In a small mountain town, I was tasked with investigating a series of unexplained water leaks. The job took a turn for the unexpected when I discovered the source. a collapsed cavern.

The cavern, hidden beneath the town, had been a well-kept secret. Over time, its walls had weakened, leading to water seeping into the town's plumbing system.

As I explored the cavern, I found traces of what seemed like an old mining operation, long abandoned and forgotten.

Tools, rails, and even an old miner's hat lay scattered, a silent testament to the town's forgotten history.

Working carefully, I shored up the cavern walls to stop the water leakage. It felt like I was not just fixing a plumbing issue, but also preserving a piece of history.

The town council decided to turn the cavern into a historical site, offering guided tours to showcase this hidden part of their heritage.

The job became a community project, with locals volunteering to help clean and set up the cavern for visitors.

It was rewarding to see the community come together, united by a desire to preserve and celebrate their history.

This job was more than just plumbing; it was about uncovering and honoring the stories that lay beneath our feet.

- CavernPlumber

I was called to a centuries-old monastery to address a peculiar problem. strange noises coming from the walls. As an experienced plumber, I was intrigued but skeptical.

The monastery, with its ancient stone walls and serene gardens, was an architectural marvel. But as I began my work, the whispers started.

The sounds were faint, almost musical, echoing through the pipes. I followed the sounds, trying to find their source.

The trail led me to a sealed-off section of the monastery, hidden away for centuries. Inside, I found a series of intricate pipes, unlike anything I had ever seen.

These pipes were part of an old water organ, an ancient instrument that used water to create music. It was a remarkable discovery, untouched by time.

As I repaired and cleaned the pipes, the organ came back to life, filling the monastery with haunting melodies.

The monks were amazed by the discovery. They had heard legends of the water organ but never believed it to be real.

The restoration of the water organ became a symbol of the monastery's rich history, attracting visitors and music enthusiasts.

This job was a symphony of history and mystery, a reminder of the hidden wonders that can be found in the most unexpected places.

- MusicalPlumber

The job was in a bustling city, to investigate an unexplained sinkhole. As an experienced plumber, I anticipated a standard pipe collapse, but what I found was extraordinary.

As I delved deeper, the ground gave way to a vast, hidden chamber. It was like stepping into another world, far beneath the city streets.

The chamber was part of an ancient, forgotten city. Ruins of buildings, streets, and even a marketplace lay preserved in the darkness.

My task shifted from repair to exploration. I navigated through the ruins, awed by the sheer scale and preservation.

I discovered artifacts, pottery, and ancient tools, each telling a story of a bygone civilization.

The most remarkable find was an intricate fountain system, still partially intact. It was a marvel of ancient plumbing and engineering.

I reported my findings to the authorities, leading to a full archaeological excavation.

The discovery captured the city's imagination. It was a glimpse into a forgotten past, right beneath our feet.

This job was more than plumbing; it was a journey through time, uncovering the layers of history hidden beneath the modern world.

- TimeTravelPlumber

An old mansion with a history of plumbing issues called for my expertise. I anticipated a routine fix, but the mansion had other plans.

Investigating a leak in the walls, I stumbled upon a hidden mechanism. Curiously, I triggered it, revealing a secret passage.

The passage was narrow, lined with stone, leading to a hidden chamber beneath the mansion.

Inside, the chamber held a collection of rare antiques and artworks, a private museum of sorts.

Among the treasures was a diary, belonging to the mansion's original owner. It detailed his life and the creation of this secret chamber.

The diary spoke of hidden love, political intrigue, and a desire to protect these treasures from the world.

I fixed the leak, but the discovery of the passage led to a renewed interest in the mansion's history.

The mansion's current owners turned the chamber into a private exhibit, preserving its history and mystery.

This job was a reminder of the secrets that old buildings hold, waiting to be discovered by those who dare to look.

- SecretFinderPlumber

In a small village, I was tasked with inspecting an old well that had mysteriously dried up. The villagers believed it was just a drought, but the truth was far more intriguing.

As I descended into the well, I noticed strange carvings on the stones. They depicted scenes of daily life from centuries ago, each telling a story.

Reaching the bottom, I discovered the well wasn't dry. It led to an underground stream, hidden and untouched.

The stream echoed with sounds that were almost musical, created by the water flowing over the ancient stones.

Along the stream, I found relics - coins, jewelry, and pottery. Each item was a piece of the village's history, lost to time.

The villagers were amazed by the discovery. The well wasn't just a source of water; it was a gateway to their past.

I helped to restore the well, ensuring it continued to provide water while preserving its historical significance.

The well became a symbol of the village's heritage, attracting historians and tourists alike.

This job was a reminder of the stories hidden beneath our feet, waiting to be heard in the echoes of history.

- EchoingWellPlumber

I was called to an abandoned industrial complex to assess the state of its old plumbing system. What I found was a labyrinth of pipes and machinery, a relic of the industrial age.

The complex was vast, with corridors of pipes running like veins through the building. It was a plumber's nightmare, yet fascinating.

In the heart of the complex, I found the central boiler room. It was like stepping into a steampunk novel, surrounded by gauges, levers, and boilers.

Amidst the machinery, I discovered old logs and blueprints. They detailed the complex's construction and operation, a window into the industrial past.

The more I explored, the more I understood the ingenuity and ambition of those who built this place.

My work turned into a preservation project. I carefully repaired and maintained what I could, preserving the integrity of the complex.

The complex was eventually converted into a museum, showcasing the industrial era's engineering marvels.

The transformation was a testament to the enduring legacy of industrial craftsmanship and innovation.

This job was more than plumbing; it was a journey through the golden age of industry, a tribute to the builders of the past.

- IndustrialEraPlumber

A call from a remote monastery set me on a path to an unexpected discovery. They needed help with their ancient plumbing system, hidden within the monastery's walls.

The monastery, perched atop a hill, was serene and timeless. As I worked on the plumbing, I uncovered a hidden door in the wall.

Behind the door was a forgotten sanctuary, a small chapel beautifully preserved in time.

The chapel was adorned with intricate frescoes and stained glass, each telling a story from the scriptures.

In the center of the chapel was a well, believed to have healing properties. It was a sacred place, lost to the world.

I carefully repaired the plumbing, ensuring the sanctuary remained undisturbed and preserved.

The monks were overjoyed by the rediscovery. The sanctuary became a place of pilgrimage and reflection once again.

The monastery opened its doors to visitors, sharing this hidden gem with the world.

This job was a spiritual journey, uncovering a place of peace and beauty, a reminder of the sanctuaries that exist in the quiet corners of our world.

- SanctuarySeekerPlumber

I was hired to inspect the plumbing in an ancient royal palace. What I expected to be a routine job turned into a historical adventure.

While tracing an old pipeline, I stumbled upon a hidden tunnel system beneath the palace. It was like finding a secret passage in a castle.

The tunnels were lined with historical artifacts, including royal insignias, tapestries, and even old weapons.

As I explored further, I discovered rooms that served as secret meeting places for historical figures, complete with antique furniture and faded paintings.

Among the relics, I found letters and documents that shed light on significant political decisions made in secrecy.

The discovery prompted an extensive archaeological examination. Historians and researchers flocked to the site, excited by the find.

The tunnels turned out to be a network of escape routes and secret meeting rooms, used by royalty during times of crisis.

My plumbing job evolved into a preservation project, aiming to maintain the integrity of this historical find.

This experience was a reminder of the layers of history that exist beneath our modern world, sometimes hidden in the most unexpected places.

- RoyalTunnelsPlumber

A call from a secluded estate led me to an old, overgrown garden. The job was to repair an ancient fountain, long out of use.

As I cleared the overgrowth, I uncovered more than just the fountain. The garden was filled with statues, each with its own story.

The centerpiece was the fountain, intricately carved with mythical creatures and forgotten tales.

As I repaired the fountain, I noticed hidden mechanisms. When activated, they brought the fountain and its sculptures to life with water.

The water flowed in patterns, creating a mesmerizing display of art and engineering.

The estate's owner revealed that the garden was a personal project of a famous sculptor, lost to time.

Restoring the fountain brought the entire garden back to its former glory, becoming a local attraction.

Visitors came to marvel at the enchanted garden, reliving the magic of a bygone era.

This job was more than plumbing; it was about rediscovering beauty and artistry hidden in the overgrowth of time.

- EnchantedGardenPlumber

A unique job took me to a coastal town with a mysterious plumbing issue linked to the sea. The adventure began when I discovered the source was a sunken shipwreck.

The ship, visible at low tide, was partially lodged in the town's old sewage system, creating blockages and leaks.

Diving into the water, I explored the wreckage. It was like entering a time capsule, with remnants of cargo and personal belongings scattered throughout.

Among the wreckage, I found sealed containers, preserved documents, and ancient navigational tools, hinting at the ship's long-forgotten voyage.

As I worked to dislodge the ship from the pipes, I uncovered its history. It was a merchant ship, lost in a storm centuries ago.

The town rallied around the discovery. The shipwreck became a part of their heritage, a link to their maritime past.

The operation to remove the ship and restore the plumbing was careful and respectful, preserving the ship's artifacts.

The shipwreck was eventually turned into an underwater museum, attracting divers and historians.

This job was more than a plumbing challenge; it was a dive into history, unearthing a story that had been swallowed by the sea.

- DivingPlumber

My task was to investigate a mysterious echo in a mountain town's plumbing system. What I found was a geological marvel.

Deep underground, I discovered a cavern, vast and echoing. The cavern's acoustics were amplifying the sounds from the town above.

The walls were lined with crystalline formations, reflecting my flashlight in a kaleidoscope of colors.

Amidst the crystals, I found a natural spring, the source of the town's water supply and the echo.

The spring's water flowed through the cavern, creating a natural symphony of sounds as it echoed off the walls.

The town, amazed by the discovery, decided to preserve the cavern as a natural wonder.

I helped to redirect the plumbing to prevent interference with the cavern, preserving its beauty and sound.

The Cavern of Echoes became a tourist attraction, with guided tours to experience its natural acoustics.

This job was an exploration of nature's artistry, a reminder of the wonders hidden beneath our feet.

- EchoCavernPlumber

A routine check in an old city led me to a discovery straight out of history books – the forgotten catacombs beneath the streets.

The catacombs were a network of tunnels and chambers, untouched for centuries, holding the city's forgotten past.

As I navigated the narrow passages, I found walls lined with ancient carvings and inscriptions, telling stories of past inhabitants.

The chambers held artifacts, from pottery to tools, each a piece of the historical puzzle of the city's origins.

In one chamber, I discovered a collection of old coins and jewelry, likely offerings from a bygone era.

The discovery sparked a wave of archaeological interest. Experts descended to study and preserve the catacombs.

My plumbing work turned into a careful excavation, assisting historians in uncovering the city's hidden history.

The catacombs were eventually opened for historical tours, offering a glimpse into the city's ancient life.

This experience was a dive into history, uncovering the layers of time hidden just beneath the surface.

- CatacombExplorerPlumber