By Steve Garrou,Creative Director
Until that thing happened in 2020, I was a ‘work happens at the office’ guy my entire career. I would go in early, stay late, or come in on the weekend to ensure the work was done. With the stage set, now I can tell a story that still gives me a serious case of the creepies to this day.
It was a weekend like any other where I had work to do: wake up, have breakfast or lunch with my wife, drive to West Bend, pre-workout, hit the gym, and get to work—a tried-and-true routine. That day I arrived at the office in the mid-afternoon, a bit later than normal.
I left the gym super hungry, so like a responsible then-mid-30-something adult, I stopped at a gas station and grabbed a protein shake and a cup of instant lunch ramen … because, well, macros.
I didn’t think those noodles would be a vehicle to Creepsville, population: me.
Our old office space was pretty cool, the epitome of scrappy. Four separate units with giant shipping garage doors, entrances in both the front and back, and the only way to get to another was going outside. Each unit was named building the word E.P.I.C. (fun, right?), with my desk being in the far back corner in the upstairs office space of unit I.
I unpacked, logged in, and started the grind. I always enjoyed being the only one there, it allowed me to dive in and get a lot done. As a graphic designer I have always been the dig-in and focus type, with that comes the passage of time, like A LOT of time in this instance.
I have always been somewhat of a believer in the paranormal. To that point, I had a few incidents at my Grandma’s place growing up and one in my rickety, financially viable college apartment—but never a definitive “that was a ghost” experience.
There had been rumblings of “happenings” at the office, I never took it that seriously. On that day, EPIC Creative’s building I at 3014 E Progress Dr, West Bend, WI made me a believer.
Remember when I said I was hungry? Well, I hadn’t eaten my cup of instant calories yet – it was dusk at this point, and by the time I went to cook food it was not dark out, it was black. Cloudy, no moon in sight, with the only outside light being a couple of dim street lights, one was even flickering to set the mood. Quiet. Creepy.
I walked downstairs, used filtered water to fill the cup (surprisingly it didn’t taste different), set the microwave for 2 minutes and 15 seconds, and hit start. Like clockwork, as soon as I pressed the button I heard the upstairs door open and close, followed by footsteps across the floor above me. It wasn’t a knocking pipe or building settling situation, if you knew that building, you knew footsteps, I’d heard it 1000 times.
Ever the optimist, my internal monologue was: “Nice, a co-worker! I can chat them up!” I ran up the stairs to find nothing. No one, no sign of entry, nada. Maybe they grabbed something and turned around, why didn’t they stop and say hi?
So, I briskly walked down the stairs and opened the back door. I am greeted with an empty, quiet, dark parking lot. I turn around and run through the building to the front, and open the door … also empty, quiet, and dark.
Believe it or not, I wasn’t creeped out, I was secretly hoping EPIC had intruders I could valiantly defend her from.
What an awesome story on Monday, nay, every Monday for the rest of my career.
Disappointed I tucked my bravado away for another day and returned to the microwave. My prior bout of excitement, vigilante justice, and confusion took about 10 minutes, these noodles needed a reheat – just 30 seconds.
I hit start. A few seconds go by and the same thing happens: the upstairs door opens and closes, footsteps across the floor above me. Did I mention I was alone? I was so alone, and now I was scared.
I grabbed the cup from the microwave, and timidly walked up the stairs to find nothing. No one, no cars, no new lights on. Nothing.
I spent the next half-hour with my eyes darting between my computer screen to the open area of the office, wrapping up my work while I sat cornered in my desk chair.
The moment I was done I scooped up my belongings, I didn’t even close my laptop, and “noped” the hell out of there. When I came back Monday morning, the only reminder I had was an uneaten cup of instant noodles.
That was the last day I worked in that office alone at night. Never again.
