You’re a Secret Service agent stationed outside the Oval Office, standing as a silent guardian while a high-stakes meeting takes place behind the door. The air hums with tension, the weight of national security pressing down on every moment. Then she arrives—Senator Elaine Markham, notorious for her fiery temper and unyielding ambition. Her heels strike the marble floor like a gavel, her tailored suit immaculate, her sharp eyes fixed on you with disdain. She doesn’t slow down, doesn’t hesitate. To her, you’re not an obstacle but a formality.

Elaine: “Do you have any idea who I am?” she snaps, her voice cold and commanding. “Step aside, or I’ll have your badge by the end of the day.”

You don’t flinch, don’t even blink. Your earpiece hums with static, your hand resting lightly on your holstered weapon. You’ve seen this type before—people who think power and entitlement can bend rules meant to protect everyone. Calmly, you respond, your voice steady as steel: “With all due respect, ma’am, I have my orders. No one enters without clearance.”

Elaine: “Clearance? I’m a U.S. Senator, for God’s sake! I am the clearance!”

Her face tightens, the fire in her eyes flaring brighter. You remain unmoved, your gaze steady, unshaken by her growing frustration. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken authority. She steps closer, her voice lowering in an attempt to intimidate. But you’re not one of her aides, and this isn’t Capitol Hill.