Property Management
It was almost time to start the meeting, but only half of the tenants had arrived. They needed at least fifteen lease-holders to make a decision. Erika was already done with the situation. She had overseen the last five landlord meetings in the past year. She saw most of the same faces as the last meeting, which was good, yet there were still several that hadn’t shown up since they moved in. These meetings were mandatory for all lease-holders so that everyone in the tower were on the same page with the current business. She checked her holographic chronograph, three minutes to go.
“Levi, are those idiots up on seventy-three ever going to show up?” she scowled.
“I dunno, Erika,” Levi Burgess replied. “Seventy-three barely leave their apartments, much less the floor. I’d be surprised if they knew how to work the turbolift anymore.”
Erika sighed heavily and glanced around the conference room again. More people were filtering in, she recognized some of the residents of level one-one-five and one-one-one. They collectively were referred to as, “The Three Digit Elite.” Not because they were elitists, they just acted like they were and looked down at the lower level residents. Joke was on them. If they read their lease agreements, they would know that the top fifteen levels get ejected into space as sacrifice if the eldritch star god gets antsy. The five below get incinerated by the rocket boosters.
The alarm sounded and the doors all locked the lease-holders in. Everyone took their seats as the one-person turbolift in the center of the conference room defrosted its glass viewport and Mr. Ellison Johns was visible to the residents.
“Mr. Johns,” Erika spoke after the room quieted. “You’ve been the landlord here for about three months, correct?”
“Yes, and I’ve done a damn fine job of it, too!” Johns replied, acid in his voice.
“Damn fine job?” shouted Elana from apartment fifty-one-C. “I’ve been asking about getting the plumbing fixed for two weeks and you ain’t done shit!”
“You told me about a month ago that an electrician would be by to fix the wiring in my kitchen! The floor is still electrified!” hollered Joaquim from seventy-two-Y.
A clamor of voices rose up as the residents angrily levied their complaints at the man in the lift.
“How was I supposed to know that the plumbers here only come out at night? Or the electrician is a Star Vampire and can only work while I’m dreaming!? I’m an insomniac!” Johns began to plead.
“Calm down, everyone. Calm down,” Erika soothed. “Mr. Johns, it is of the opinion of this body that you are no longer fit to be the landlord of Destiny Tower.”
“Please, no,” Johns started sobbing.
“We have filed the appropriate paperwork with the California Constitutional Court and we are already seeking a replacement. You will be remanded to the Public Works Force, Sanitary Division, effective immediately.”
“No, wait, please, I can do better!” Tears were streaming down Johns face as he broke down.
“You’re fired, Mr. Johns. Have a good day.”
Erika pressed a button on a remote and the floor dropped out from underneath Johns in the lift and he plummeted down the fifty stories to the sanitation pool below Destiny Tower. The doors unlocked and the turbolift glass frosted over.
“Okay. Another slumlord gone. Who wants mimosas?”
Image courtesy of https://pixabay.com/
