Being the Client Coordinator

By June Nixon

Being the client coordinator can be a lot—and I mean a LOT in capital letters, possibly with dramatic thunder behind it. The most important part of the job is listening. Really listening. No judging, no eye rolling, no jumping to conclusions. Just listening to people who are scared, confused, grieving, curious, or sometimes just very committed to the idea that their lamp has an attitude. Over the years, I have met truly amazing people through this work, and some of them are still my friends today. That part has been one of the sweetest surprises of all.

Of course, along with the kind, grounded, wonderful people, there have also been a few calls that made me stare silently into the middle distance. There was the woman who contacted us because her goldfish, Bubbles, had died and was now, allegedly, haunting her. I had questions. Many questions. Mostly logistical ones. Was Bubbles moving objects? Splashing from beyond? Leaving tiny wet footprints? I do not know, but I hope wherever Bubbles is, he has upgraded to a very spacious afterlife bowl.

Then there was the woman who told me she had killed her neighbor’s cat and that the ghost of Jesus visited her every night and tried to stab her with a silver spear. That one felt a little above my pay grade (I really don’t get paid and we do not charge money), but it was above my spiritual clearance level, and possibly my insurance coverage, so I gently referred her to a priest. Sometimes the most paranormal thing you can do is know when to pass the clipboard to someone else.

And then there was the person who told me her daughter had an imaginary best friend named Jody. One day, she heard her daughter talking upstairs, opened the bedroom door, saw the rocking chair moving, and then looked out the window to see two glowing red pig eyes staring back at her. If you just got a little chill, congratulations—you have either seen The Amityville Horror or you are now ready for family movie night at my house. Thankfully, my lifelong love of horror movies has come in handy more than once, because people occasionally describe scenes from films as if they happened to them personally. When that happens, I have to gently say, “I think you may be remembering something from a movie,” which is much nicer than saying, “Ma’am, that ghost has a SAG card.”

I could go on and on, and honestly, someday I probably will. The truth is, this work can be strange, funny, exhausting, heartbreaking, and unexpectedly beautiful, sometimes all in the same phone call. You meet people at vulnerable moments. You hear stories they may be afraid to tell anyone else. And whether their house is haunted, their goldfish is dramatic, or their imagination has been borrowing heavily from 1970s horror cinema, the job is still the same: listen with kindness, bring a little reason into the room, and, when necessary, make sure the batteries are charged.