Apartment managers, having sequestered themselves in a cramped, dimly lit, five foot by five foot room for nearly two months, are now cautiously unbolting the trap door. With another term gone, eye witnesses report that the management team is once again prepared to brave resident resentment for the sake of exacting cleaning check fees. 

“I just assumed they were dead.” John Kirkland, Sophomore, said as resident assistants militantly entered a neighboring apartment, “That was the excuse they gave anyway when I emailed them about fixing my broken toilet.”

While newly hired staff are out surprising residents, the most senior managers are carefully protecting the indestructible hideaway they will return to at the end of the day, and remain in until the next money making opportunity.

“We’ll pop out for a few minutes every couple of days to get people to sign leases, but we try to keep a low profile, generally speaking.” Related one long-time pool cleaner and pingpong ball restocker who preferred to remain anonymous, “It takes about a week for new residents to realize they pay monthly media and parking fees. All essential employees should be in our cold-war-era bunker when that bomb goes off: we don’t take any chances.” 

Although she never aspired to be an apartment complex owner and security systems expert, middle-aged Adriana Davis says the quality of life makes it all worth it. Her advice to other student housing managers? 

“Raise rates, fill apartments, and spend half of the year behind a solid steel door, 20 feet underground. You’ll be just fine.”