There are certain sounds you expect to hear when you work overnight.
Machines humming.
Vending machines stealing somebody’s money.
A coworker opening a bag of chips with enough force to wake the dead.
And at least once per shift, somebody saying:
“Man, I should’ve called out.”
What you don’t expect to hear is a telephone ringing in an abandoned breakroom.
Especially when that telephone hasn’t been connected in six years.
Tonight’s story comes from Marcus in Ohio, who worked third shift at a manufacturing plant where apparently the employee benefits included health insurance, paid holidays…
…and whatever the hell was living near Breakroom B.
So grab your coffee.
Preferably somewhere without a telephone.
Because this one starts weird…
and gets considerably worse.
The Phone in Breakroom B
Marcus had been working nights at the plant for almost three years when Kevin transferred onto his shift.
Kevin was one of those coworkers who didn’t believe in anything paranormal.
Ghosts?
“Nope.”
Demons?
“People watch too many movies.”
Haunted buildings?
“Bad wiring and imagination.”
Kevin had an explanation for everything.
Which is wonderful.
Every horror story needs one person who confidently announces that nothing supernatural exists approximately fifteen minutes before something supernatural ruins their evening.
The plant itself was enormous.
Several buildings had been connected over the decades as the company expanded, creating a maze of hallways, production areas, storage rooms, maintenance tunnels, and forgotten spaces nobody really used anymore.
Breakroom B was one of those places.
Years earlier, it had been the main employee breakroom.
Then the company renovated another section of the building, and everybody moved into a newer breakroom closer to production.
Breakroom B became storage.
Old chairs.
Broken microwaves.
A refrigerator nobody was brave enough to open.
And mounted on the wall beside the door was an old beige telephone.
The cord was still attached to the receiver.
But the phone line had been disconnected years ago.
Marcus knew this because maintenance had physically removed the wiring from the wall during a renovation.
There was literally nothing connecting the phone to anything.
Which made what happened at 2:13 one morning slightly inconvenient.
Marcus and Kevin were walking back from checking equipment when they heard it.
RIIIIING.
Kevin stopped.
Marcus stopped.
They looked at each other.
RIIIIING.
The sound was coming from Breakroom B.
Kevin smiled.
“Somebody’s messing with us.”
Marcus didn’t answer.
Because Marcus possessed something Kevin apparently did not.
Common sense.
They walked to the doorway.
The breakroom was dark except for the fluorescent light spilling in from the hallway.
RIIIIING.
The beige phone hung on the wall.
Kevin reached for the light switch.
Marcus grabbed his arm.
“Don’t.”
Kevin laughed.
“It’s a phone.”
“It’s a disconnected phone.”
“Exactly.”
Kevin stepped inside.
Marcus stayed in the hallway.
Because there are moments in life when friendship ends and self-preservation begins.
Kevin walked over and lifted the receiver.
“Hello?”
The ringing stopped.
For several seconds, Kevin just stood there.
Then his smile disappeared.
Marcus noticed immediately.
“What?”
Kevin held up one finger.
He was listening.
Then he slowly looked toward the far corner of the breakroom.
Marcus followed his eyes.
Nothing was there.
“What are they saying?”
Kevin didn’t answer.
His face had gone pale.
Finally, he whispered:
“Someone’s breathing.”
Marcus felt his stomach tighten.
“Hang it up.”
Kevin pulled the receiver away from his ear.
And that’s when Marcus heard it too.
Not through the phone.
From across the room.
A slow inhale.
Deep.
Wet.
Like someone struggling to breathe through a throat full of water.
Kevin froze.
Another breath came from the darkness near the old refrigerator.
Then another.
Closer.
Marcus backed into the hallway.
“Kevin.”
Kevin didn’t move.
“Kevin, get out.”
The breathing stopped.
For maybe two seconds.
Then the refrigerator door opened.
Not quickly.
Slowly.
The rubber seal peeled away with a soft, sticky sound.
Kevin ran.
He nearly took Marcus through the opposite wall getting out of that room.
They slammed the breakroom door behind them and hurried back toward production.
Neither said anything until they reached the main floor.
Finally Kevin leaned against a machine.
“What the hell was that?”
Marcus shrugged.
“Bad wiring and imagination.”
Kevin stared at him.
Marcus smiled.
Because sometimes the universe hands you a joke and it would be disrespectful not to use it.
They told their supervisor what happened.
Their supervisor reacted exactly the way supervisors react whenever something horrifying occurs at work.
He sighed.
Then asked if production was still running.
Apparently ghosts are acceptable as long as they don’t affect quarterly numbers.
Eventually, though, maintenance agreed to check the room.
Three people went with them.
Marcus.
Kevin.
Their supervisor.
And a maintenance technician named Ron.
Ron opened Breakroom B.
Nothing happened.
The refrigerator door was closed again.
The telephone hung normally on the wall.
Ron walked over to it.
Kevin said, “That phone rang.”
Ron looked at him.
“This one?”
“Yes.”
Ron lifted the receiver.
Then he pulled the telephone away from the wall.
Behind it was an empty electrical box.
No telephone cable.
No wiring.
Nothing.
“Hasn’t worked since before I started here,” Ron said.
Kevin didn’t say another word.
Marcus noticed something else.
The refrigerator.
Its door was closed.
But underneath it, stretching across the tile floor, was a thin trail of water.
Ron noticed it too.
He opened the refrigerator.
Empty.
Completely dry inside.
Marcus was ready to leave.
Then Kevin said:
“Guys…”
Everyone turned.
Kevin was staring at the telephone.
The receiver was still sitting in its cradle.
RIIIIING.
Nobody moved.
RIIIIING.
Ron slowly stepped backward.
The supervisor whispered something that Marcus still considers the most managerial response imaginable:
“We’re locking this room.”
Fantastic idea.
Only about six years late.
They left Breakroom B and locked the door.
By morning, Kevin had completely changed his opinion regarding haunted buildings.
He no longer mocked Marcus.
He no longer volunteered to investigate strange noises.
And whenever somebody suggested cutting through that hallway to save time…
Kevin took the long way around.
But that’s not where the story ends.
About three weeks later, Marcus was working overtime.
Kevin was off.
Around 2:00 AM, Marcus walked past the hallway leading toward Breakroom B.
The lights down that corridor were off.
The door was still locked.
Marcus kept walking.
Then he heard it.
RIIIIING.
He stopped.
RIIIIING.
Marcus stared down the dark hallway.
And because Marcus was apparently smarter than every person who has ever wandered into the first ten minutes of a horror movie…
he kept walking.
The phone rang again.
Then stopped.
Marcus had almost reached production when he heard something behind him.
Not a telephone.
A voice.
Quiet.
Far down the hallway.
Coming from behind the locked breakroom door.
It said:
“Marcus?”
He ran.
And according to him, that remains the fastest he has ever moved while technically still being on company time.
🚧 Before You Take the Next Exit…
If you enjoyed tonight’s ride, The Humor Highway Vault is where I’m keeping the good stuff that doesn’t always make it onto social media.
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👉 Head over to the Humor Highway Vault and come hang out with us.
Because Facebook and Instagram get the memes.
The Vault gets the good stuff.
And honestly, let’s be real for a second.
If a phone that hasn’t worked since the Obama administration starts ringing at 2:13 AM, the correct response is not “hello.”
It’s not “who is this?”
It’s not even “is this a prank?”
The correct response is:
“Not my shift, not my problem.”
And then you walk away like your paycheck depends on your ability to ignore supernatural customer service.
Because nothing good has ever come from being the guy who says:
“Yeah, I’ll answer it.”
— Andy