You know those annoying nine-digit ZIP codes? What if they made you have a number like that for your address?

Never happen, right? But that's what this gray-haired guy is telling the woman standing in a front yard on oak-lined Glen Oak Court in east Medford this sunny Wednesday afternoon.

"I want to talk to you about your address," he begins.

He's a sane-enough-looking gray-haired guy with a clipboard and an OREGON hat.

"I don't want to make a decision," Marlyn Mason says. "I just rent from my friend."

"There's no decision," he says. "I just want to pass along the information."

He's holding some sort of plaque or sign.

"You're going to have to put this on the house," he deadpans.

The big numbers say, 259230988.

She stiffens.

"Was this decided by the City Council?"

"The government."

"Where's she going to put this?"

The thing is about three feet long.

"It's for your convenience."

"Well, it sucks!"

"Would you be willing to go on national TV and say that?"

There's a long, confused moment as Peter Funt points to the blue rental van with the blacked-out windows sitting out by the curb. Time freezes for long seconds, then the horrible, impossible realization begins to spread on Mason's face.

She's on "Candid Camera."

Then she's laughing with Funt, the host of the long-running TV show started by his dad, Allen Funt, in 1948 (yes, 1948), his three sound and camera guys and producer Linda Tosetti.

Funt spent a good chunk of the day looking around Medford for somebody who was outraged by the absurdity of the address thing.

Enter Mason.

The street address here, where she lives in the mother-in-law cabin out back, is 27.

"It's like a prison number!" she'd said. She'd threatened to write a letter.

"How could you not believe him?" she says, laughing, pointing at Funt.

For the Monterey, Calif.-based Funt, 52, a typical workday is to fly to a middle-American town, do what he calls "the stunt," then fly home.

Earlier Wednesday in Marie Callender's Restaurant, Funt talked about the show his dad made famous.

He says the nine-digit address stunt was suggested by a viewer in Tennessee.

"We wondered how people would react," he says.

He says the show's staff comes up with most of the ideas, but staffers read all the mail.

There are two "Candid Camera" crews. The other one is in Gulfport, Miss., today, telling customers at a gambling boat they must put on life jackets and take part in lifeboat drills.

Why Medford?

"The hallmark of the show as my dad created it is that it doesn't matter where you are," he says. "Our test is, where can you go in two hours?"

Medford was new, although they've been to Portland several times. One stunt had them telling gas station customers, "Pssst! Wanna buy some self-service gas? Pull around back."

Oregon is one of only two states where there's no self-service gas.

Before "Candid Camera," Allen Funt did a show called "Candid Microphone" on radio. The senior Funt died in September.

The show in years past featured famous stunts such as a talking mailbox and an engineless car and sidekicks such as Durward Kirby and Bess Myerson.

Funt's current second banana is Suzanne Somers.

"She's great," he says. "Pretty, funny, multitalented. I wanted somebody who was a fan."

The show's strength has always been to push people to the edge, but to know where the line is.

Do people ever get mad after "the reveal"? Once in a while, Funt says. When that happens, he backs off.

"My job is to size people up," he says. "We depend on people."

That works for a passing waitress, who says, "I love your show."

Later, it works for Mason, who as it turns out is an ex-actress with a long list of credits. She tells Funt she has just one question: