Once upon a chilly October night, the managers of Condo Corp 1313 gathered for a meeting, as they always did before Halloween. The agenda was full: elevator maintenance, noisy neighbors, and a spooky new item titled “Mysterious Elevator Pinging.” No one knew who added it, but after years in the biz, it didn’t take much to spook them.

“Alright,” said Dan, the senior manager. “Let’s get through this list fast. I want to be out before it gets too dark.”

The other managers nodded. Just last week, Mary swore she’d heard footsteps in the hallway when she was alone. Jason, known for his skeptical outlook, said it was just the pipes.

But as the meeting continued, strange things started happening. The lights flickered every time they discussed the elevator repairs, and the projector began glitching, displaying strange images of… historical financial reports from the 1980s! Truly terrifying for anyone who’s ever dealt with retroactive assessments.

“Look, I’ll admit it, the flickering is weird,” Jason whispered to the group. Just then, the fire alarm blared – but only for a second. Then a low hum resonated from the elevator shaft.

Mary gasped. “Is it… the Ghost of Special Assessments Past?”

Dan laughed nervously. “Come on, that’s not real! …Right?”

Just then, the lights went out completely, and a faint whisper filled the room. It seemed to say, “Delinquent… assessments…”

Suddenly, a shadow appeared in the doorway, holding what looked like… an old ledger!

“Who goes there?” demanded Jason, his bravado finally waning.

The figure stepped into the light. It was the legendary accountant, Mr. Finch, who had supposedly retired twenty years ago under mysterious circumstances involving unbalanced budgets.

Mr. Finch smiled, a bit too widely. “I heard there were… unresolved charges from the past.”

The managers looked at each other in horror. Everyone knew that the worst thing about old charges was not having the paperwork to back them up. And they were right! Mr. Finch began waving his ledger around, summoning spreadsheets from the ether, detailing every improperly accounted cent.

The managers screamed. They tried to escape, but each time they turned down a hallway, they found themselves back in the same conference room, surrounded by boxes of undelivered AGM notices and unopened packages of resident complaint forms.

Desperate, Mary remembered something. “I have the Silver Spreadsheet of Reconciliation! It’s the only way to ward off condo spirits!”

She opened her laptop and clicked the file. The room filled with a bright light, and Mr. Finch let out a chilling scream as he dissolved into rows and columns, finally balanced.

The lights flickered back on, and the managers, shaking and pale, were back in the conference room, alone. Jason whispered, “So… anyone want to discuss that reserve fund?”

They all bolted, leaving the agenda (and that spooky line item) behind, vowing to never work after dark in October again.

From that day on, the managers of Condo Corp 1313 made sure every penny was accounted for just in case. And every Halloween, the sound of pinging could still be heard in the empty halls, reminding everyone to never ignore the budget.