Customer: “Do you have any books on ghosts and demons?”

Me: “Fiction or non-fiction?”

Customer: *Almost offended* “Non-fiction of course!”

Me: “We have a few, such as a history of ghost sightings and the paranormal.”

Customer: “No, do you have anything specific to demonic possession? I just saw that Conjuring movie, and I had no idea that it was a real thing!”

Me: “Well… those movies might be based on real people and what they claimed they saw, but they’re extremely exaggerated, and I wouldn’t use them as evidence for what is real.”

Customer: “But it said it was based on a true story!”

I have also recently seen the movie.

Me: “I think it actually said it was inspired by the case files of Ed and Lorraine Warren, which allows the filmmakers a bit more… creative license.”

Customer: “Well, that’s disappointing. I wanted to learn about demonic possession!”

Me: “Well, we still have books related to the subject that you might find interesting.”

Customer: “Oh, good. My new neighbors have been bugging me for weeks, so I wanted to curse them.”

Me: *Lost for words* “That’s… interesting?“

I bring him to our small section on the paranormal and leave him to it. Ten minutes later, he’s leaving the store, shouting over to me: 

Customer: “Useless! None of them are about haunting your neighbor with a demon!”

It is 2005, and “King Kong” is playing in our theater. A man and his young son are leaving the screen at the end of a showing. I overhear their conversation while they wait for someone to come out of the restroom.

Father: “That was a lot of fun!”

Son: “Yeah! Thanks, Dad.”

Father: “I wonder if that’s why they changed the top of the Empire State Building.”

Son: “Huh?”

Father: “I saw pictures of how the top of the Empire State Building looked when they first built it, and how it looks today is different. Was it because of King Kong?”

Son: “Uh… are you messing with me?”

Father: “What do you mean?”

Son: *Laughing* “Like a giant gorilla climbed the building in real life!”

Father: “Oh. I thought it was based on a true story.”

Son: “It’s a giant gorilla!”

Father: “What? Lots of animals go extinct!”

Customer: “One adult and one child for The Boy And The Heroin, please.”

Me: “You mean The Boy And The Heron?”

The customer glances up at the movie names above me, then down at the little seven- or eight-year-old boy he’s here with, and then back at me. 

Customer: “Yes, that sounds more age-appropriate.”

I am an experienced videographer who has all the necessary gear. Someone tagged me in a Facebook post where a client was looking for someone that could do a “behind the scenes” video during their movie shoot. It was intended to take almost a week; they needed a person with their own equipment. Of course, it was unpaid, for exposure and experience, but, hey, they would provide food and the ability to capture really good scenes, and blah, blah, blah.

I skipped the post and did not reply, but they messaged me. They said they loved my portfolio and would love me to do this.

I did not want to waste my time, so I replied:

Me: “I am sorry, but I am booked for those days.”

Client: “Can you cancel those?”

Me: “You mean, cancel my good-paying jobs so I could work for free?”

Client: “Well, we promise good exposure and experience!”

Me: “You do realize that if I own expensive equipment and have lots of paying clients, I kind of don’t need exposure, right?”

They kept messaging me, so I decided to troll them.

Me: “Hey, I am looking at my calendar, and I see that I would be free from August 20th to the 27th [two months after their date]. Can you postpone your movie shoot until then?”

Client: “Are you insane? We have catering paid for, location paid for, and other staff also booked for that day. That date is simply not acceptable for us. We can’t simply cancel like that!”

Me: “Yes, that’s exactly my point.”

They never replied again.

In 2010, my mom and I attend a concert in Amsterdam. We don’t live close to the city, we don’t have a car, and public transport back home late at night is non-existent, so we opt to share a room at a cheap hotel near the venue. 

The man checking us in is friendly, though his smile has a bit of an Uncanny Valley vibe. We chat a bit and disclose that we’re in town for a concert.

We dump our stuff in the room, leave for the gig, and return sometime just after midnight, and we are greeted by the same man. Somehow, he manages to crank his freaky smile up to 100 as he asks if we enjoyed the concert and bids us to “sleep tight”, also giving me a wink. 

A bit unsettled, though tired enough to not give it further thought, we hit the sack. 

Early the next morning, my groggy mind somehow registers the word “rhino”. Pulling myself from a deep sleep, I am surprised to wake up to a room TV that’s turned on and showing a nature documentary about — you guessed it — rhinos. 

Still half asleep, I reach for the remote on the nightstand, turn off the TV, and go straight back to sleep. A mere couple of minutes later, my mom’s phone alarm goes off, signaling that it is 8:00 am and waking us both properly. 

I’m still not sure if I dreamed that the TV was on or not. I reach for the remote and turn it on again to check. 

Mom: “What are you putting the TV on for?” 

Me: “Rhinos.”

Mom: “…what?”

Me: “I thought I dreamt that the TV went on and showed me rhinos. Apparently, I didn’t dream it.”

I point at the TV, which still has the documentary on and is now showing rhinos galloping across an African desert. 

Mom: “How is it possible that the TV turned on by itself?”

Me: “Beats me.”

Now sincerely puzzled, we get dressed and head down for breakfast. There is a self-service breakfast bar, so I make myself a plate and sit down. 

Uncanny Valley Hotel Clerk is back. He still smirks at me like something out of a horror movie. I’m halfway done with my breakfast when the man comes slithering up to our table, leans over REAL CLOSE, and asks in the most terrifying, slimy tone: 

Demon Hotel Clerk: “Would the little miss like for me to make her a grilled cheese?” 

The “little miss” is in their early twenties here, FYI.

Me: “Eh… no… No, thank you. I’m good.” 

He slithered away to a back room. Mom and I exchanged a glance that translated to, “Eat the rest of our breakfast as fast as possible, and let’s get the h*** out.”

Thankful that we had paid in advance, we did exactly that, giving the man nothing more than a brief “we’regoingthanksfortheservicebye” in passing to signal our leaving.