S2: Ep 1 Haunted Workplaces

The average person will spend about 90,000 hours at work in their lifetime. But what if their work was haunted? 

In the first episode of seasons 2, listen in as M reads true stories of people who had to work in haunted workplaces and offices. 

Story One: The Elevator
Story Two: The Library  
Story Three:  The Newspaper
Story Four: The Downtown Victorian
Story Five: His Name Is Gus
 Story Six: The Movie Theater

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The Killer Conspiracies Podcast: A Utah true crime podcast. Mostly in Utah sometimes in other states or areas.

Sound effects: UlrichWehner, Raille, bryanbulmer, AlexMurphy5

Thank you for listening! 👻 This podcast is researched, written and produced by your host, M. If you'd like to support the podcast, you can buy me a coffee.

Submit your own stories or theories to chillersandthrillers@gmail.com.

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Transcript

0:39

Hello. And welcome back to chillers and thrillers. Season two. If you're a returning listener.. Welcome back. If you're new. Welcome. I am your host, M, and in this podcast, I recount you stories of people's encounters with the strange and unexplained. No comedy gore or true crime, only 100% true spooky tales. If you are looking for a true crime podcast, I do recommend you check out killer conspiracies, Utah. True crime. THere are true crime podcasts based out of Utah. And I'll include the link in the bio. I hope you all had it. Good holidays in our getting back to the grind of work and a new year. Speaking of work in today's episode, I will be telling true stories of peoples . Who unfortunately had paranormal encounters in a haunted workplace. I have some experience in a haunted workplace myself. I worked at a pub. Many years ago, that was part of a very old building. The staff would constantly hear heavy footsteps in the basement. after hours, knowing that there was no one there. We would also see dark shadows in here. Someone walking up the basement stairs. As always, if you have a story you'd love to share or any feedback. Please feel free to send me an email@chillersandthrillersatgmail.com. I have some great episodes planned for season two. I'm really excited to get back to it. And I have one particular episode I'm planning that are going to feature stories based out of the UK. So if you're a listener in the UK, Please feel free to share your stories with me. Now. Let's get to this episode stories. So get comfy. Turned down the lights. And listen in. The elevator. Submitted by user pancake nugget. In college, I worked the night shift at an assisted living home. As you can imagine, we had all kinds of weird creepy things happen. But this is one of the scariest. One job was cleaning all the common areas in the building, like the lobby hallway, stairs, elevator, et cetera. That night as usual, I cleaned the inside of the elevator, which was all stainless steel and showed smudges very easily. I didn't notice anything unusual as I was cleaning. I then spent a few minutes, cleaning a lobby area with the elevator in line offsite. When I had to hop back on to get some cleaning supplies, I left on a different floor. As the doors close behind me, something caught my eye. Absolutely terrified. I saw large man sized hand print smudges. Inside the elevator on the walls and doors. The prints started at the bottom of the door and had a pattern. As if someone was crawling up onto the ceiling of the elevator. No one had used the elevator in the few moments I was not in it. We had several male residents in the facility, but none were physically capable of doing something like that. Plus I was the only worker there that night. So it could not have been another staff. The rest of the night, I'd spent trying to avoid whatever hell monster created that nightmare. The library. Submitted by user Rover on over. The library where I work is an old Carnegie library built in 1920. And several of the staff believe it to be haunted. I'll be it by benevolent goats. About two years ago, I had my own encounter. It was the end of the day. And I was doing my final walkthrough to make sure everyone was out. I walk into the fiction room, which is its own separate room. And as soon as I enter, I hear a child's giggle coming from right next to me. I look around and don't see anyone, but I figure a kid is hiding in the room to play a joke on me. So I walk around all the bookshelves and I don't see anyone. There's a small area in that room that is quartered off for storage. I don't think a kid could have gotten in there, but I stick my head inside. And it was empty. I asked the other librarian. If anyone has walked out of the fixture room, since I went in. No one had. A little creepy, especially because the laugh literally sounded like it was right next to me, but I brush it off. Two months later, the exact same thing happens to another coworker. The same laugh, same confusion. When it was found, the room was empty. I hadn't told anyone about this experience. And so I was shocked when it happened again. I was even more shocked when it happened a third time to a third staff member who also didn't know it had ever happened before. Our cleaning lady also had some things happen. Although again, it is benign. Door's closing . Light's switching on when she just turned them off. Books, sometimes falling off the shelf right next to her. And when she hadn't touched them, She said the only thing that really bothered her is when she's alone at night and something runs a hand through her hair. When my director realized she was having these encounters, he sheepishly admitted that the last cleaning lady had quit because his encounters bothered her so much. Luckily, the current cleaning lady is fine with it. And when it comes to be a little much, she said that she just tells the spirit to knock it off and they do. My conjecture is this. I don't know who the child ghost is. If there is one. However in 1919. When construction for this library began. The librarian who had done the bulk of the work for the Carnegie corporation of New York to get funding for our library to get built. Died, very suddenly some sort of accident. I've always had a pet theory that Ms. Kitson, her name, is one of our ghosts and that she's very proud that the library, she worked so hard to get funding for, got built. And that she sticks around to make sure we're all doing a good job. The newspaper. Submitted by user rose underscore Tyler. I was working at a newspaper in a small town in Texas. The newspaper office was in an old building on the courthouse square and had been built in 1876, according to the historical plaque outside. Imagine a town square out of every cowboy movie you've ever seen and this one would match it pretty close. Building's boat right next to each other with shared walls. The place always gave me the creeps. It was a mostly wooden building and the thing was likely a fire trap. The small advertising office was downstairs. And the newsroom where I worked was upstairs. Underneath the rickety wooden stairs. Was the press room with a big motorized press that printed the newspaper each week. We spent a lot of late nights in that office. And we always kept every late blazing because it made us an easy. One night. It was just the page designer and me left working well past midnight to make sure things were ready when the editor arrived the next morning. We both had our headphones in listening to music. We suddenly both jerked when we heard the heavy door to the press room creak open and then slammed shut. We heard pounding footsteps on the stairs. The page designer sat right next to the old style banister of the staircase. If she leaned over, she could see down the straight shot staircase. I watched her face go completely white. I looked over to the top of the staircase. And as I heard the distinctive Creek of the top stair. I noticed no one was there. The designer and I looked at each other and I've never been more terrified in my life. I had enough sense to grab my purse and head for the door. We both flew down the staircase and didn't think twice that our pages weren't ready. I almost lost my mind to trying to get to the front door unlocked and relocked behind us. We both ran down the sidewalk on the main square as if the hounds of hell were behind us. Just as we made it to the parking lot, which was about two blocks off the square, a cop pulled up behind us and asked us what was wrong. Not wanting to say that two grown women had been scattered or their minds by a ghost. I said that we had heard strange noises in the newspaper office. He just laughed. He said we weren't the first young reporters that had been chased out of that office late at night. And that it was a good idea to have all of our stories filed by midnight in the future.. The downtown Victorian submitted by user. Aw Lind. When I was 19 and trying to make some money for college, I worked part-time as a personal assistant for an interior designer whose office was located in an old Victorian style house in the downtown district of my hometown. The house was built in 1902 in certainly had more than its fair share of grand juror. Massive rooms with gorgeous hardwood floors. ornate tin ceilings close to 20 feet above your head. Elegant antique chandeliers, beautifully carved wooden fireplace, mantles, and staircases. You get the picture. Despite the beauty of the house, literally taking my breath away. The first time I saw it. I quickly learned that there were more than a few things about it that gave me the creeps. No matter what the outside or inside temperature was or whether or not the air conditioning was on. I always felt a little whoosh of air on the back of my neck. Whenever I stepped through the front door. Also the house was caddy corner behind one of the town's oldest funeral homes. If I stood on the second story balcony to chat on my phone, which I often did. It wasn't that uncommon to watch an employee wheel a casket through the back doors of the funeral home and into what looks like a garage at the far end of their parking lot. And then see gray smoke rising from a chimney, a top of the garage, of short time later. I worked at this house for about four years. Early on business was steady, but not exactly booming. At that time, my boss used the smaller of the two bedrooms upstairs to store hundreds of sample books of fabrics, wallpapers, you name it. This bedroom had an even smaller room attached to it that was maybe 100 square feet, total. In this room, there were dozens of rolls of used tattered or discontinued fabrics leaning up against the back wall and partially blocking the rooms only view. Directly across from the fabric rolls were for tall filing cabinets where my boss kept all of her client's information. Invoices work orders and paperwork on previous projects. My boss's office was downstairs in what I'm assuming served as the homes, dining room it's heyday. In a smaller adjoining room, she would create stacks and stacks of invoices to be alphabetized and filed in sample books to be sorted and returned to their correct locations upstairs. That's where I came in. I would lug all the paperwork and sample books up the staircase and spent hours reorganizing and restacking the books. And then alphabetizing and filing the invoices. Mindless work, but I was making a whopping $7 an hour. So I was a happy camper for a while. After the first few weeks, the new job jitters were off, but I realized I was constantly on edge. I started to realize that I had was extremely uncomfortable anytime I was upstairs, alone. I felt like I was being watched. I frequently check over my shoulder because it seemed like someone was behind me, which was impossible. Particularly in the small room where I faced the only entrance as I filed papers. I knew there was no one lurking amongst the dingy dusty fabric rolls in that room. But I wasn't above picking up a smoke curtain, rod and jabbing at the folds from time to time, just to be sure. Whenever I would finish filing papers and prepare to go back downstairs. I would look directly in front of me. And then avert my eyes down the staircase immediately to my right. Avoiding a glance at the open doorway of the primary bedroom, which remained in used. Usually when I got most of the way down the stairs. I always feel lighter. I could finally breathe a sigh of relief. To be clear, the vibe downstairs was not warm and fuzzy. But we'll still much better than being upstairs, alone. Once I got used to the job, I figured out ways to make the task of going upstairs. More tolerable. First, I would find things to do downstairs. If I was alone in the house, which as the only employee happened frequently. Saving the task of filing and shelving upstairs for when my boss had returned from her appointments and work from her downstairs office. Or I would sort in alphabetize the books and papers downstairs before going upstairs, which cut the time I had to spend up there by half. Still. I always felt like I was being watched. Like there was something right behind me. Like if I gathered my courage. And looked at the doorway of the primary bedroom.. I would see whatever it was that was keeping tabs on me. When business started to pick up and there were increasingly fat stacks of paperwork to be filed. I changed my strategy altogether. I would run upstairs to the small filing room, remove entire drawers from the filing cabinet. Take them downstairs, one by one to complete the task of alphabetizing and filing any safe environment than like each one upstairs and quickly slide it back into the cabinet. My boss thought it was quirky, but I got my job done and did it well. So everyone was happy. For a while. A couple of years past, and my bosses business really started to thrive. One day I showed up for my usual afternoon shift and she informed me that with the windfall of profits and new clients, she had decided to renovate the second floor and turn the rarely used primary bedroom into her new office. As much as my stomach churned at the thought of spending more time upstairs, there was nothing I could do to stop it. Plus she paid me well and was always very flexible with my class schedule. So I couldn't just quit. Renovations began the following month. I created a makeshift filing system downstairs and continue with my day-to-day tasks. I did not set foot upstairs for the better part of a month. But there was a constant barrage of drilling, sighing, hammering, heavy footsteps, and shouting back and forth between the contractor, Ronnie and his apprentice, Tim. And then nonstop didn't have heavy objects being dragged across the floor. As the renovations continued, it wasn't uncommon for my boss to work from home or take extended lunch meetings with clients to get away from the noise. It also wasn't uncommon from Ronnie to leave Tim at the house alone. He would simply drop the guy off, then take the truck to go pick up more supplies or deal with other projects while Tim worked away for hours at a time. One week, for three days in a row, I arrived and found no other cars in the parking lot. As soon as I unlocked and opened the front door, though, it was clear from the scraping hammering and heavy footsteps above that Tim was hard at work. I would usually show them hello, Tim. Turn and lock the door behind me, then go to my desk and get to work. My boss would generally reappear closer to quitting time. So I would give her an update on deliveries, miss calls, and confirmed. It was okay for me to lock up and set the security system as I left. Tim and Ronnie had keys to the house, but they didn't have the security code. So I was paranoid about sending the alarm if they were going to come back in the evening and accidentally set off the alarm. And this was the last day of the week, Friday. As a 22 year old college, senior, I had big plans for the weekends. And was eager to get them underway. I parked my crappy little car in the lot and surprise, surprise. There were no cars there. I walk up to the front door and before I even get it unlocked, I can hear the cacophony of dragging, scraping and heavy footsteps from inside. It sounds like Tim has added again. I let myself in close and lock the door behind me and shout a "hello Tim", before walking over to my desk. Fire up the desktop and plan to fritter away the next few hours playing solitaire. Not only was it a Friday, it was going to be an easy Friday, no deliveries to be made, no invoices to file. My boss had left town at noon for a weekend getaway. So the only thing I had to do was sit here, answer the phone. And wait for five to roll around so I could lock up and set the alarm after Tim was done for the day. I began to get restless. Remember the third round of solitaire. The god-awful noise from above. Isn't helping my mood. Tim's footsteps sound heavier than usual. Maybe he's in a rush to get things wrapped up to. He's moving back and forth from one end of the primary bedroom. To another. Back and forth then a pause. Then he starts again. I'm getting antsy. So I call my friend to firm up plans for the evening. Dinner movie drinks that puts a pep in my step. And I'm feeling a bit better about being stuck here for another hour or so. Another round of solitaire should do the trick. Halfway through. The phone rings. It's my boss. It's hard to hear her over the noise. So I asked you to speak up. She knows it's got to be awfully quiet at the office today. So why don't I just head home? It's Friday after all. I tell her, I appreciate the gesture, but Tim is here working, so I need to stick your own until he's done so I can set the alarm behind him as I leave. At that moment. I realized that the house has gone completely silent. My boss seems to be willed dirt and asks me to repeat myself. I do. And she tells me that neither Ronnie or Tim were scheduled to work today. My mind is a factory reset. I blurred out, uh, oh, I must be mistaken then, because I have no other words in my head at that moment. My boss is clearly in weekend mode. She tells me to lock up, go home and have a good weekend. I hang up. Press readout to call back my friend. I tell her everything. I tell her, I want her to stay on the phone with me because I'm going to go upstairs. She implores me to leave the house immediately. But I just can't. I hold the phone to one year as I stand at the bottom of the staircase. I utter a pathetic. Hello?. The house is completely silent. I climb halfway up the staircase and suddenly he got a cold jolt down my spine. That settles in my stomach. I feel like I'm going to be sick. In the meantime, my friend is telling me in my ear, tell them, you mean no harm. Tell them that you know that this is their space and your story, that these changes are happening and you have no control over them. Tell them your story and you'll try your best to lead them. Be. I repeat her words as calmly as I can. And then I say them again. I descend the staircase and feel that same whoosh on the back of my neck. As I approached the front door. Chills down my spine and keys in hand. I set the alarm. Lock the door behind me. And walk away. My hands are shaking. As I tried to fit my car key into the car door to unlock it. I conveniently have to call out sick from work the following week. I left that job a month later. My boss ran her business out of that house for another couple of years and then sold it to someone who thought it'd be a good idea to convert the house into apartments. Just last year. In the midst of those renovations a fire started in the primary bedroom upstairs and destroyed most of the second floor. Though the building is currently unoccupied. It seems pretty clear to me that something still lives there. And always will. His name is Gus. Submitted by user H M west. Back in the nineties, my mom was working for an insurance company. It was a satellite office and not a main branch in a one story building with the basement built sometime in the sixties or seventies, located in an office park. It was staffed and run almost entirely by women. Almost no men went into that place. And if they did, they didn't stay very long. One of the things my mom and a small group of her coworkers like to do after work around this time of year, was to pile into minivan and go to haunted houses. For one of these trips, they invited a new girl who had just started working there named Kelly. After hitting one haunted house at night, they decided to make a pit stop at the office before heading to another. Well, on the way, one of them brought up the latest thing Gus had done, which left Kelly asking. Wait whose Gus. Gus was a name they had given to the entity that resided in the building. What started out as an occasional minor paranormal activity would eventually evolve into outright terrorism on a near constant basis. At first, it was small things like him swiping stationary or making a form vanish after it had been filed away. That gave way to one of his favorite games playing with doors and door locks. He would slam a door, shut in an area where no one was and he'd do it with enough force to get everyone's attention, so they'd come running to investigate. Or after new employee had shut and locked the door. He would pop it open as soon as you took a few steps away. If you took too long, looking for something in the supply closet, because your pen had gone missing. Gus would slam the door, closed on you with the intent of hurting you. After the second time that happened, they took the door off its hinges and stored it in an empty office. In the back of the building next to the basement stairs was a heavy duty all metal security door that could only be opened with a key pad on either side. One night when just my mom and your friend, Beth were working late, they heard what sounded like someone trying to force that door open. They stepped out into the hall to see the door. Open fully by itself. Then slam shut. Over and over again. Before it finally stopped. Using a finally cabinet became risky because they had developed a nasty habit of closing off in your fingers. The paper shredder started up despite the switch clearly being off. And he kept running after the yanked, the power cord from the wall. An old disused electric typewriter, sprang to life and started pounding out horrible threats over and over until the page was full. Gus had other games he'd liked to play such as imitating voices to lure people away from what they were doing. For example, if Beth was in her office, she would hear Tara's voice call up to her from the basement. Only for beth to get down there and find no Tara. Gus did screw up on one occasion though. One day while my mom, Beth and Sarah were having a conversation, they all heard Sarah's voice call out for Sarah by name from a few doors down. At one point he was spotted in physical form. My mom was in the basement records room when she heard her name being called. But being wise to his tricks, by this point, she didn't respond. She just darted out of the room as fast as she could and found a column of dense gray vapor ascending the stairs before rounding the corner. This kind of stuff went on for months and months, but there wasn't much they could do about it. Besides remove opportunities from Gus to cause harm like the supply closet. And it wasn't like they could call up the home office and tell them some paranormal force was making their lives, living home. now Back to that minivan ride. Kelly sat there listening to their explanations and stories and figured they were just pulling her legs and she was the new girl. And just wanted to have some fun with her. Well, she was about to find out that they weren't making fun of her. They were trying to warn her. They arrive at the office around seven and everyone was able to do their business without incident. But as they were just about to leave Kelly blurted out a challenge to Gus. Hey, Gus. Let's see you come out here right now, do something. I dare you. Show yourself. The group just stared at her in disbelief. Well, my mom said you shouldn't have done that. As soon as the words left her mouth, they all heard an enormous crash from the basement. And heavy steps. Charging up the stairs with enough force that they could feel the floor shake. Thankfully, there were already moments from leaving when Kelly laid down the gauntlet, so by the time Gus hit the top of the stairs, they were already through the first, if two doors needed to reach the outside. Out of pure fear, half of them just made a mad dash to the minivan, leaving Beth, Sarah, my mom to get the door shut and locked. As soon as she got her key out of the walk, they all felt Gus throw himself into the other side of the door. They hustled through the exterior door, got it secured before, also running for the minivan and piled in. As they're backing out this other lights in the front office slip on, followed by the lights in the other room. They did not go to another haunted house that night. They just went back to Beth's house where everyone had met up so they could get their cars and go home. Within a few months, my mom had quit and found a better job as did most of the women working there. And she's still friends with them to this day. And occasionally they'll talk about the night that Kelly challenged Gus. The movie theater submitted by user okey-dokey. This took place between 1979 and 1980 in Joliet, Illinois. I was working as a janitor at the Hillcrest movie theater. This wasn't an old spooky theater. It had been built in the early seventies and was a huge one screener. My job as a janitor was to come in any time between the end of the last movie and be done before the start of the first movie. I clean the lobby restrooms, pick up all the trash in the theater and mop the theater floor as needed. I had been working as an Asher when they fired the janitor and gave me his job and they paid me enough that I could actually subcontract the job and hire on days where I felt I needed help. Usually after a big weekend, like the Muppet movie and such. When I started, the assistant manager told me I could set my own hours, but he added you don't want to be here alone, overnight. Don't ask why just, trust me. Well, I hadn't planned on being there at night.

My plan was to show up at 6: 28:17

00 AM and be done and out by 11 and then head to my college classes. So no problem there. Here's the layout of the place. I would unlock the front doors. The whole front of the theater was glass massive windows that were three stories high. Walk across the lobby. It was about a 30 foot by 90 foot with both restrooms at one end. And into the back hallway. This hallway. ran the width of the theater and had four doors leading into the auditorium. This back hallway was also completely dark and I would navigate to the end, open a door that led upstairs. So the projection is booth in the storage area. Right before I went up, the stairs was the electrical room. I would go in there and turn on the lights for the building. The lights in the auditorium where the typical low-level lights you found in theaters back then. But there were also emergency lights, mounted, three quarters to the ceiling about halfway to the screen in the auditorium. This meant that the back of the auditorium. was in a sort of Twilight while the screening curtains were in a blaze of light. Once the lights were on, I went to work. I would get an electric leaf blower type thing and blow all the popcorn and junk to the front of the auditorium. Shovel it into a garbage can and then mop. I would also vacuum all the carpet in the lobby and clean the restrooms, typical stuff. Like I said on weekends, I hired one of my buddies to help me splitting up the work. Went in the lobby and restrooms the other in the auditorium. We can have the most work. Weekends also had the most weirdness. We had a rule that you never snuck up on the guy running the blower in the auditorium. You could hear nothing with that thing on. And you would stand at the door and holler as loud as you could or wait for him to turn around, if you needed his attention. So I'm writing the blower and I hear Brian, my helper hollowing from the door. I turned the blower off and head to the lobby to see what he needs. He looks at me and says, Have you been down here the entire time? Yeah, why I answer. You're not playing a prank on me. Prank. Like what. Slamming the stall doors in the ladies room while I'm mopping the men's. I looked at him like he's nuts. Why would I do that? We walk into the lobby and we hear one of the stall doors slam open in the ladies room. Now you have to realize the previous January that they fired had threatened to come back and get his drawback. And we heard stories that he had been in prison. So we were scared that he still had a key and was in there messing with us. We quietly picked up a mop beach and decided that both of us could take them if need be. We silently snuck up in the ladies room and walked in. And there was a stall door. Slowly coming to a stop. Like it had been swinging until we turned the corner. And nobody was in there. Brian looked at me and said, at least it isn't a murderous janitor. Did you clean this restroom yet? I asked. No, and I'm not going to mean either. We cleaned it the next day. That would happen from time to time. No big deal. But then it escalated. We were both mopping in the auditorium and we would plug in a radio on the stage and turn it on. Listening to the w J J D while we moped. This was an old knob radio. Turn the volume, click on and then turn up the sound. One Sunday, we're mopping. I'm on the right. Brian's on the left and music is playing. Then the music gets softer and softer and quick, the radio was off. We both look up now in theory. Someone with a key could have gotten in. Hid behind the curtain. Turn the radio off while we weren't looking. But I looked at Brian and said, go turn the radio back on. And he said, Nope, I'm good. So I went down to the front and turn the radio back on walking back to my mop backwards, just to be sure. When I got back to the mop, the radio slowly turned itself off while we both watched. The radio problem was in constant and there didn't seem to be a real pattern other than Sunday mornings for the worst. So that meant no music on Sundays. The swinging door would happen every so often, but we finally got to where we would clean the ladies room. Even if the door had swung that day. We were getting braver. But so was it. Eventually after about eight months, one week, and Brian came into the auditorium and announced that he would like for me to fill them up bucket for him. The janitor's closet was an incredibly narrow room, maybe three feet wide, and about nine to 12 feet long, just off the men's room. You opened the door, the sink was right in front of you and the room stretched back off to your left. If you stood facing the sink, the door was on your right and your left shoulder was up against the wall. It was tiny. I asked Brian what was wrong? And he said he needed help with the mop water. I went to the janitor's closet. The bucket was in the sink. I stood in front of the sink, turned on the water and bam. Something flew past my face and slammed audibly . Into the wall to my left. I jumped back and looked down. What the heck was that? Brian looked at me with his eyes wide and said, yeah, What was that happened to me to least I'm not crazy. For the rest of the week. Every time we use that sink, some unseen thing would Rouge pastor face and hit the wall with a thud. We dared each other to lean forward whenever we fill the bucket, but neither of us took up that dare. So we got UC these things, the swinging door, the radio, the thread from time to time. Once we heard a bunch of stuff fall upstairs, but when we investigated. Nothing was out of place. Finally, there was a weekend that Brian was off sick and I had a test first thing Monday morning. I had to go in at midnight on a Sunday. Nothing really out of the ordinary. I didn't try the radio. No thud. No swinging door. I had everything done by 7:00 AM. I walked back to the electrical room and flipped off the power and walked to the back hallway in the dark. I got to the lobby and stood there in the middle of it, going through my checklist in my head, making sure I didn't miss anything. The sun was coming up and there was plenty of light in the lobby from the sun I was about halfway through my list. When just over my shoulder. I heard. Somebody chuckled right in my ear. I spun around. And nobody was there. I got out of there. As fast as I could, but when I got to my car, I realized I had left my coat and my cleaning shoes in the middle of the lobby. My keys were still in the door as well. I stood around 20 minutes, trying to figure out what to do when a local cop cruised by. They always kept an eye on things and we let them in for free movies. He rolled down the window and asked if there was a problem. I told them, I thought there was somebody in there, but I didn't see anyone.. He asked me to clarify when I explained what happened. He said, Ain't nobody in there. Go get your stuff. I'll stay here and watch. It took about another five minutes for me to get the courage, to walk into that theater. And pick up my stuff and get my keys up the door. That was the last time I went in at night by myself. I worked there another five months or so still had the radio problems. Sometimes the swinging door. And an occasional thud. But never had another chuckle. It's no longer a theater. Several years ago, it was turned into a pet store and a shoe store. And I would love to ask those folks what happens there at night. And that's all for this episode. Have you ever worked in a haunted workplace or know somebody who has. I somehow consider it just as bad as living in a haunted home. Not only do you have to work and deal with customers or annoying coworkers. But then on top of it all, you have to deal with an annoying haunting or malicious Poltergeist. As always, I would love to hear your thoughts. Please feel free to email me@chosenthrillers.com. I would also ask that if you're enjoying the podcast, you will leave me a rating review and your preferred podcast provider. It. goes a long way to making sure other people see the podcast as well. Thank you again for listening. As I said, I'm very excited for season two and to see what spooky stories I can find for you all. I hope all you ghouls and go stay safe. And I'll see you next time.