Terrified White House staffers are popping Vitamin C like Pez and watching coworkers fill burn bags with documents, as they delete delete delete and try to remember what the IT guy said about the system backing up files automatically at the security training they attended buzzed.

Somebody coughs and they all freeze. Then, the intern vying for Chris Wray’s job runs out of the room wailing, a deputy assistant to the president shoves his head in one of the burn bags to start chewing documents, and a man nobody knows kicks the desk where Jared likes to hide.

Stephen Miller’s checking out Argentine travel sites and wondering if he can take his bride’s temperature without her knowing before he decides how many tickets to buy, and Matt Schlapp‘s probably wondering how much a client would pay him to take a sauna with Trump this week.

Hope may be dying for Trump, but they’ll be damned if they don’t get the silverware past the Secret Service. “It’s all so unfair” Ivanka sighs, gripping the prop Bible purse woven by the hands of hungry children. A desperate “Be Best” rings in the hall, but no one really cares.