I had a job working at a secured military facility out in the remote Utah desert. When I was hired the man who trained me asked if I believed in ghosts, because if not, I would before I left the job. He was kind of strange though, just like the rest of us graveyard shift workers, so I never gave it much thought...
He shadowed me for a week, showing me where I was allowed to go, where the restricted areas were, and he introduced me to the occasional worker that we ran into. We worked in a huge warehouse that was divided into seven sections. There were only four of us working the night shift.
There was an area that felt really creepy, and I mentioned it. It was in the nicest section of the warehouse, the quality control department, which was well lit and even heated. Easily the most comfortable section.
My trainer gave me a nervous look and hustled me out of there. Once we got outside, he told me an inspector died by suicide in there. Don't talk about him though, or else he may show up. He told me if I talked about ghosts he would PT my butt and recycle me all the way down to janitor, so don't talk about ghosts inside.
He then proceeds to tell me about 7 deaths that have occurred there, the most gruesome of which was three men killed by an explosion on the 5th floor of the building across the street. Their bodies were found two days later on top of our building. The photographer sent to document the explosion went on our building to take pics and discovered them. Two suicides, the inspector having only died 7 months before, one man killed for cheating on another mans wife (he tried to make it look like an accident, a heart attack) and the last on was a trespasser on base. He was some ufo guy who snuck on base and was shot by our guards in the tool room.
Fast forward a few weeks...
After my training I began settling into my new job, but the stories my trainer had told me stuck with me. I would always hear weird noises, but I figured as long as I minded my own business the ghosts wouldn't bother me.
Whenever I encountered another worker, we would chat a bit to pass the time. Everyone was friendly enough...
One night in the break room a man came in in full Class A Uniform. He paused and glared straight at me. I stood up and introduced myself, figuring he was one of the Military guys checking on a project. He never shook my hand, he never said a word. As he glared at me, he simply vanished into thin air.
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Sometimes its tough to infer what people mean just by reading. We miss out on expressions and physical cues when we communicate by type.
I also communicate very matter-of-factly and it sometimes seems as if I'm being confrontational.
Its all good though.