Ghost Jeffery, Still not even the strangest session….

Working at a studio means you hear everything.

People confess secrets, overshare life stories, trauma dump halfway through appointments, and occasionally tell you things that make your brain briefly blue-screen while you try to remain professional.

This… was one of those days.

It started completely normal.

A new client walks in — well dressed, polite, clean-cut, totally average. No red flags. No weird vibes. Just your standard “nice enough guy” energy. We head to the room, discuss services, exchange payment, and I’m mentally preparing for what I assume will be a very standard appointment.

Then he pauses.

And says:

“There’s something I need you to know.”

Now listen — when you work in this industry, that sentence can go in a lot of directions. Most of them significantly worse than where this one ended up going.

So I said, “OK… what’s up?”

And he very calmly replies:

“I have schizophrenia.”

I thought, honestly? Not the worst confession I’ve heard in this building.

So I asked if he was OK, if he felt safe, if everything was fine, and he reassured me immediately.

Then he says:

“There’s more.”

At this point I should’ve known.

He looks toward the corner of the room and says:

“I know you probably can’t see him… and he’s probably not even there… but my friend is standing in the corner.”

I blink.

I look at the corner.

I look back at him.

And he says:

“His name is Jeffrey.”

Now, as a professional, sometimes you just commit to the bit because what exactly are your options here?

So I said:

“OK… is Jeff gonna stay the whole time?”

And without hesitation he says:

“Yeah, he’s just gonna chill in the corner if that’s alright.”

Honestly? Jeffrey sounded respectful enough.

So I agreed.

The session itself was completely fine — except every once in a while the client would casually glance over at the corner like he was checking for moral support from his invisible emotional-support roommate.

Like Jeffrey was over there judging performance scores, on my ability to deep throat and moan.

At some point I forgot Jeffrey existed entirely.

Which turned out to be my mistake.

Afterward, I offered to shower with my client so we could wash the oil off. We walk into the bathroom, I swing the shower door open, and this man suddenly gasps and says:

“OH MY GOD, you almost hit Jeffrey!”

Friends.

I cannot explain to you the level of panic that happens when you’ve forgotten about an imaginary person and are suddenly accused of nearly taking them out with a glass shower door.

I immediately snapped into apology mode.

“OH MY GOD I’M SO SORRY JEFFREY.”

And because apparently my survival instincts are rooted entirely in customer service, I started addressing the empty space beside the shower like a concerned Airbnb host.

I even said:

“I’ll just leave the shower door open in case Jeff wants to join us.”

And this man genuinely smiles and goes:

“That’s very nice of you.”

Apparently Jeffrey appreciated the consideration.

After the shower, we walk back toward the room. I open the door and ask, completely committed at this point:

“Is Jeffrey inside?”

And he casually says:

“Yeah, he’s waiting in the corner while I get dressed.”

Perfect. Amazing. Love that for us.

I closed the door and went about my day.

BUT HERE’S THE THING.

Ever since that session?

Stuff has been moving around the studio.

Random things fall over. Objects disappear. Something always seems slightly off. Flowers get knocked over. Doors move. Weird noises happen in empty rooms.

And now every single one of us fully blames Jeffrey.

In my mind, he’s become a tiny ghost with a mullet, standing silently in the corner of the studio like some paranormal Canadian hockey dad haunting us out of boredom.

At this point Jeffrey isn’t even his ghost anymore.

Jeffrey belongs to the studio now.

And honestly?

As long as he keeps paying rent in spiritual vibes and not actual opinions… he can stay.