How come those customers (you know the ones) always pick the exact day I really, really want to leave on time to come in near closing and be weird? How do they know I’ve got tickets for a show and need to be on a train within 45 minutes of closing time? How do they know!? It’s spooky…..
This time it was a mother and daughter. They came in fifteen minutes before the shop was due to shut, looked briefly and disinterestedly at the stock (‘Yay!’ I thought. ‘They’re obviously not going to stay long….’), and then the mother asked to sit down (12 minutes to closing and counting).
Then (at five minutes to closing) she pulled out the ace: she confided to me their house was haunted. Oh marvellous. Here we go….
This was apparently very scary. They were both very scared. The daughter sat down to join her mother (Really? Please don’t) and they both proceeded to tell me exactly how scary it all was. Extensively and at length.
Apparently, proof that your house is haunted includes:
- Going to sleep with a felt pen next to you, and waking up with pen marks on your face.
- Your dog barking outside.
- Being cold inside your house.
- Dreaming about being haunted.
By closing time all the outside stock was back inside, the door was locked, and the background music was switched off. But these two lightning rods of the spirit world showed no signs of getting up and leaving. By ten minutes after closing I learnt that nobody wanted to spend time in their house due to ‘The Feeling’ (No, not the band, although, if I’m honest, that would probably be enough for me…)
I was beginning to see their reluctant guests’ point, although not for the reasons these two were imagining.
By twenty minutes after closing the till was locked, most of the lights were off, I had my coat on, and was being persistently and reliably informed that it wasn’t just one ghost responsible for haunting their days and interrupting their nights (One ghost?! Pah! That’s for amateurs! Practically verging on the mundane!) Oh no, The Family Von Ghost Whisperer lived with at least four ghosts, including the outdoorsy, Ray Mears type that made the dog bark in the garden.
By twenty five minutes after closing (twenty five minutes!) I was standing with the keys in my hand, my handbag over my shoulder, listening to the daughter desperately trying to coax the (not insubstantial) mother into a standing position because, “I think the lady wants to go home.” (Y’think?)
Finally, finally they got to the door and I managed to usher them outside, wishing them well with their valiant fight against the maelstrom of ghosts, ghoulies, spirits and crap boy bands. Who knew if they would ever find peace? Who cares?
I did make the train by the way, by the skin of my teeth. And the concert was brilliant, thank you very much. I appreciate your goodwill (which I know you are sending me right now, because I have a ‘Feeling’…).
|All pictures: Pixabay|
P.S. By the tone of this post you will probably guess that I do not believe in ghosts. I sincerely apologise to those of you that do, but, well, it’s all bollocks isn’t it?….