Echoes of the Haunted Workplace

During my senior year, I interned at a retail superstore, dealing with reports and data. The experience was far from smooth. I worked under the direct oversight of the big boss, and whenever he asked for impromptu data exports, my system would freeze, a blank screen confronting me. I explained the system's unresponsiveness to him, but he found it strange. The company's system had always been stable. He came to my desk to check, only to see my computer displaying the required page flawlessly. His expression conveyed disbelief, casting a shadow of doubt upon me.

These occurrences, while perplexing, seemed like quirks at the time. After work each day, I stayed late. I made it a routine to water the office plants. Strangely, every time I poured water, I'd find myself lost in thought, snapped back to reality only when the water overflowed. This peculiar phenomenon repeated, occasionally delaying my departure and adding eerie notes to my routine.

The female restroom on the second-to-last stall of a certain floor held an unsettling aura. I avoided it whenever possible. These strange happenings became my new normal, a part of a daily life that seemed increasingly peculiar. Yet, the strangest was yet to come.

One day, just after the morning meeting and with the store barely open, I heard a woman's voice call my name from behind. The voice resembled that of a colleague, but something felt off. I ignored it, pretending not to have heard. The urgency in her voice grew, repeating my name. Maybe it was my imagination, I thought. Perhaps it really was a coworker trying to reach me. But when I stopped and turned around, no one was there, the voice had vanished. Cold sweat formed as I hurried back to my office. As I sat down, I remembered that the colleague whose voice I heard was on leave that day. This unsettling event repeated itself once more.

Following another morning meeting, I found myself walking through the store, heading back to the office. Alone on an escalator, a woman's voice called my name again, this time mimicking another colleague's voice. I was certain there was no one behind me, so I didn't turn around. As I stepped off the escalator, the urgency in the voice intensified, as if it desperately needed me to acknowledge it. I questioned whether others could hear the voice, its urgency and volume. To test, I approached a group of people chatting near some counters. Walking past them, they didn't react. My heart sank. I stopped near them, turned around, and the urgent voice ceased. I knew something was amiss.

The events continued to escalate. During one data reporting task, the results from the same formula differed three times. Frustrated, I suspected "them," the unseen presence, was meddling. I confronted them mentally, stating that I would leave the office for a while and requested they cease their tricks. After a short walk and returning to my desk, I repeated the same formula, cross-checking it meticulously. The data remained consistent. I knew then that my results were accurate.

The days at the workplace turned gloomy and oppressive. Unhappy and trapped, I contemplated quitting. However, my family believed the company was good, discouraging my departure. I faced a dilemma, torn between two worlds. Then, one early morning, I woke up with an unusually clear mind. A voice told me to submit my resignation letter that day. I followed its guidance, solidifying my decision. Thirty days later, in early November, I officially left the place.

But the story doesn't end there. After resigning, I stayed home without seeking new work. My aunt visited and noticed my vacant demeanor. Concerned, she consulted a knowledgeable person who revealed that two spirits were attached to me due to my workplace. They warned of impending trouble if I remained there for two more months. I was unaware of their efforts until they told me later. My heart raced hearing this, as two voices called my name. Two months. December. I left in November. With time, my spirits lifted, but the memory lingered, forever keeping me away from that retail superstore.