Times Construction Workers Likely Worked From Home

Balcony dangles from a single rope, daring anyone to step on it while whispering, “Gravity? Never met her.”

A rigid conduit descends onto the countertop, creating a shocking obstacle in the workspace.

Twisted diagonally in the corner, the vent’s location makes airflow and cleaning utterly impractical.

This second-floor door opens directly into space, providing a perfect recipe for disaster.

Porch stairs rise from the sidewalk, ending at a wall, with mailboxes but absolutely no entry.

A duct bends sharply through the ceiling, boldly announcing, “I don’t care about aesthetics today.”

Floating steps twist unpredictably, making users feel like gravity is actively opposing them.

A ceiling fan hangs low over the stairs, threatening heads with every upward step.

Tiny metal door sits stubbornly in front of the original wooden one, forcing visitors into acrobatics just to reach the handle.

Concrete steps float beside the door, serving no purpose other than looking confusing.

Ending in a tiny platform, this staircase forces an awkward turn before reaching the ground.

Hiding a split unit inside a cabinet blocks airflow completely, rendering the system totally ineffective.

Zigzag tiles create a visual maze that could make even experienced navigators question reality.

Half-height walls meet a normal door, creating formal access to a largely open space.

Three steps lead to a platform, leaving a grand design that feels entirely pointless.

The door barely fits under the staircase, allowing only crawling-sized humans through this trap.

Molding slices across the herringbone floor like a knife through sanity, utterly ignoring patterns.

The shower’s narrow entry makes you feel like a contortionist in a claustrophobic circus.

Gray metal stairs cling to a brick wall, their narrow floating steps and steep angle daring anyone to survive the climb.

Placed directly behind the showerhead, the window turns privacy into a slippery disaster.

Two parallel staircases compete for the same space, perfectly embodying pure redundancy.

Towers, windows, and volumes clash violently, producing a structure that screams Frankenstein architecture.

The last stair ends abruptly against a wooden door, ensuring nobody can step or open without a collision.

Door installed backwards, with handle and lock reversed, turning a simple entrance into a tiny puzzle of frustration.

Copper pipe snakes over bricks instead of going straight, turning a simple room into a hazardous tango.

Each step zigzags like a drunken snake, making balance a mythical concept and shoes question their life choices.

A pipe misfires, spraying pedestrians as if gravity itself decided to take a coffee break.

Roofs, windows, and siding clash like a bad mullet of architecture, screaming “I give up” to the neighborhood.

A lonely black handrail sits awkwardly, offering zero support, leaving anyone climbing the step feeling pure hopelessness.

Green railing proudly blocks the trail like it owns the place, daring pedestrians to jump, crawl, or dramatically quit.