Unfiltered Story #323042

When I was 14 back in the 90s, I spent the summer knocking on doors and mowing lawns for cash to splurge on CDs, games, and other junk teens loved.

One regular customer of mine owned a considerably large house–not particularly a mansion, but it was definitely on the affluent end (And the lawn was the largest out of all the lawns I regularly mowed)

After about 2 months, the customer–a middle aged woman her 40s–asked me if I was up for the additional work of cleaning her house twice a week. I gladly accepted, and she showed me around the house. She also indicated that she was in and out most of the week and entrusted me with a copy of a key to her house, emphasizing how important it was that I didn’t break her trust.

And it was set–I practically had a job. I mowed her lawn and cleaned her house regularly, even after when school started. Just as she had said, more often than not, she wouldn’t be home–I would let myself in with her key and get to cleaning.

Then one day, she left a message for me on our answering machine:

Customer: Hello, I know that you usually are here on Mondays and Thursdays to clean the house, but I need you to come in today after school. I’m having a dinner party, and I need the place immaculate. The party starts at 7–please be finished by then.

Well, as my luck had it, something complicated held me up after school, and by the time I was freed up, it was nearing 5:30. I was on the clock.

I raced my bike through neighborhood like it was a Tour de France (almost getting killed in the process by cutting off a large truck at a stop sign), jumped off my bike, and left it smack in the middle of the sidewalk as I raced up and opened the front door. I furiously grabbed some cleaning supplies and charged into a room, throwing the door wide open…

…and there stood that poor woman in front of an ironing board without a stitch of clothing on.

She gave a loud, exasperting huff, accentuated with an annoyed “Really?!” as I immediately shut the door while frantically apologizing.

You know that “You done messed up now/You’re gonna get it big time” feeling we’d get when we kids? Multiply that by 10 for me. That was when I spontaneously said to myself “You’re done! Just get out! Now!” I left the key on her kitchen table and then bolted out of the house faster than I’d come in.

About a week later, my mom casually informed me that there was a lady at the door who wanted to see me. Thinking it was a neighbor wanting me to mow her lawn, I waltzed over to the door–and to my horror, it was the woman whose house I’d been cleaning.

In a surprisingly calm tone, she said:

Customer: I have a good idea why you left my key on the table and haven’t been back since–

Me: I know you’re gonna rip my head off, and I deserve it, but before you do, can I just say I’m REALLY REALLY sorry? I know better than that, it was totally embarrassing and humiliating for you–

Customer: *holding up her hand to stop me* No. Not as much you think. Not that I should be saying this, but just between you and me? I was in the porn business back in the 70s. Trust me, you’re only one out of about 10 million other teenage boys whose seen me in the raw when they weren’t supposed to. *holding out her key* Mondays and Thursdays?

Me: *taking the key with a huge smile* Mondays and Thursdays!