Mystery Smell
This thing smells rotten and vaguely fishy.
The Infamous Office Stink-bomb.™
When do residents deludedly believe that rent is due?
The 3rd. (Alternatively, whenever they feel like it.)
This is the place where we store all of the working gate remotes.
The unreachable void.
This tried and true coping mechanism has a history going back all the way to the Ancient Middle East.
Drinking a stupid amount of alcohol.
The resident claims that a gate remote was never given to them upon move-in. How does one find the truth?
Who the hell knows?
This source of a smell is commonly found in squalid apartments.
The trash. Alternatively, the food that's been left out for 2 weeks. Alternatively, the tenant themselves.
The thing residents never read.
Their lease.
This is the correct way to repair a non-functioning gate remote.
This less common method makes the best out of an illegal situation.
Walking by the pothead tenants' apartments and trying to catch a whiff of that sweet, sweet smell.
"one day they towed by guest"
An eloquent excerpt of a Google Review that shook the office to its core, and was not at all the inspiration for this game.
This smell commonly accompanies residents who pay late and are quick to anger.
Cigarette smoke.
A common utterance made by residents when learning that rent is due on the 3rd.
"I have never ever heard this in my entire life and feel personally victimized by this statement."
Surprisingly decent pens.
This coping skill utilizes math and taxes to get the job done.
Calculating how much you'll be paid for your misery.
This is the favored method by which residents commonly try to address their maintenance woes.
Doing nothing and complaining about it at the time of renewal.
This is something you'll inevitably catch a whiff of as you're giving a tour on a bright, sunny day.
Dog turds left baking in the sun.
This is an alternative currency that residents mistakenly believe they can pay with.
Sob-stories and rage.
With its distinct aroma, this ancient technique has been used to quell the evil forces at work in the office.
This coping mechanism utilizes a popular social media app to distance us from reality.
Intense bursts of scrolling through Instagram.
The entity a resident should call if they see a suspicious person or package.
The main office, apparently.
This amenity smells like money and long-abandoned dreams of being up to code.
The phase 2 hot tub. (God rest its soul).
A last resort, this excuse is favored by the truly inept among us.
"But you didn't remind me to pay it!"
What prospects are actually asking me to do when they want to know what apartment prices will be like in 6 months.
Divine the future, unravel the mystery of the world economies, put Warren Buffet to shame.
A last resort, this coping mechanism is the most effective--if the most dramatic--of all.
Screaming into the void.
Alyssa's official job title, as according to late payers.
Thief of Joy, Right Hand of Satan, my personal Babysitter-in-Chief.