If someone had told me my corporate journey would include career counseling from a ghost, I would have at least worn waterproof eyeliner. 😒✨ Because crying in HD under LED panel lights is not my aesthetic.
But here I was.
Alone.
11:47 PM.
14th floor of Zenova Tech Solutions — a building that looked motivational in the brochure and mildly possessed in real life. 🌫️🏢
The lights flickered like they had commitment issues. 💡💀
The AC whispered whoooooo in a tone that sounded less like cooling and more like,
“Resign… resign…” 👀
I, Ananya Deshmukh, 26, professional Excel warrior, part-time overthinker, full-time EMI survivor 😭💻, had been blessed with night shift because “urgent client escalation” actually means “you exist to suffer.” 🤦♀️
And I had chosen…
Cubicle 13.
Why?
Because it had the only charging port that worked consistently. 🔌😤
Sometimes survival > superstition.
🌙 The First Sign
It began with the printer.
Now, printers are already spiritually unstable. We all know that. 😒
But this one turned on by itself.
Whirr… shhh… whirr… shhh… 🖨️👻
It started printing blank pages.
One.
Two.
Five.
Ten.
I stared at it like it owed me money. 😑
“Okay Ananya, relax,” I muttered. “Maybe it’s Windows updating.” 💭😵
Suddenly — my monitor glitched.
Cells flickered.
Columns shifted.
And then, in Excel…
Cell A1 typed by itself:
ARE YOU ALONE?
My soul left my body but politely came back because I have responsibilities. 😭
I typed slowly:
Yes.
It instantly changed to:
GOOD.
“GOOD?!” 😱
Excuse me?? Why is my isolation beneficial to you??
My brain began running Olympic-level panic commentary. 🧠🏃♀️
This is karma.
You laughed at horror reels.
You said “fake” in comments.
This is the algorithm’s revenge.
Behind me —
Creaaaaak…
The swivel chair rotated slowly. 👀
On its own.
I stood up dramatically like I was in a low-budget horror film. 🎬
“Listen!” I shouted into the darkness. “If you are a ghost, at least send a calendar invite!” 😭📅
Silence.
Then the temperature dropped. ❄️
👻 The Appearance
Near the glass conference room, a shadow formed.
Tall.
Blurry.
Corporate.
White shirt. Black trousers. ID card floating mid-air.
“Oh no,” I whispered. “It’s a senior manager ghost.” 😭
The figure glided closer.
I grabbed my water bottle like a warrior queen. 💧⚔️
“Stay back! This contains electrolytes and emotional instability!” 😡
The ghost stopped.
Tilted its head.
In a deep echoing voice:
“Why… are… you… still… working…?” 👻
I blinked.
“…Because of EMI?” 😭
The ghost sighed. Actually sighed.
“Unfortunate.”
“Excuse me??” 😑
🔥 Corporate Tragedy
“I used to sit… in Cubicle 13…”
Of course you did. OF COURSE. 😭
“What happened?” I asked, clutching my bottle like it was holy water.
“They made me… work… on Sunday…”
Thunder cracked outside. ⚡🌩️
“No…”
“Yes…”
“Without comp-off?” 😳
The ghost trembled.
“Without… comp-off.”
I gasped. “Monster company.”
“I sent emails at 3 AM…”
“I replied ‘Noted’ to everything…”
“And one day…”
The lights went out.
“…I never logged out.” 👻
I screamed in full Bollywood surround sound. 😱🎬
When the emergency lights came on —
He was inches from my face.
“You must escape…”
“From what?!” 😭
“Corporate slavery…”
I stared at him.
“You’re haunting the wrong person. I already updated my resume.” 😤
He blinked.
“…You did?”
“Yes. Also learning Power BI.”
The ghost nodded slowly.
“Impressive.” 😌
🤦♀️ The Awkward Interruption
Footsteps echoed.
Real ones.
The ghost panicked.
“They’re coming.”
“HR??” 😱
“The Night Cleaning Crew.”
A cleaning aunty entered casually.
She looked at me.
Then at the floating ghost.
Then back at me.
“Beta, again?” she asked calmly.
“AGAIN?!” 😭
She sighed. “That’s Ramesh.”
The ghost looked offended. “I have a name.”
“He gives motivational speeches every night,” she added. “Very dramatic.”
“I am not dramatic!”
“You just did thunder effects,” I said. ⚡😑
“That was natural ambience!”
🎬 The Real Twist
The security guard walked in holding CCTV footage.
“Madam… you are alone.”
I turned.
The ghost vanished.
Gone.
Silence.
My screen flickered again.
Cell A2 typed:
CHECK YOUR EMAIL.
My hands shook.
Outlook opened automatically.
New mail.
From: ramesh.krishnan@zenovatech.com
Subject: Resignation Template
Attachment included.
My phone buzzed. 📱
LinkedIn notification:
Ramesh Krishnan viewed your profile.
I slowly looked at the black reflection of my screen —
He stood behind me again.
Smiling gently. 👻✨
“Good… career choice…”
I jumped —
Tripped —
Fell dramatically to the floor.
Zero dignity. Maximum trauma. 🤦♀️😂
✨ The Sweet Ending
Next morning, I submitted my resignation.
Two days later — new offer.
Better pay.
No night shift.
No Cubicle 13.
On my last day, I walked past it.
Empty.
But on the desk —
A sticky note.
Shaky handwriting.
“Proud of you. – R”
My eyes softened.
“Thanks, Ramesh,” I whispered.
The lights flickered once.
Not scary.
Almost… proud. ✨
And from somewhere inside the AC vent —
A soft whisper floated.
“Never work on Sunday…” 😌🌙
I smiled.
Because sometimes…
The scariest thing in a corporate office
Is not the ghost.
It’s unpaid overtime. 👻😂
THE END. 🎥🍿
