When I was in high school, I spent my summers working in a kitchen at a summer camp. It was grueling work, long hours making three meals a day for several hundred hungry campers and counselors, but the worst days were the ones where we got inspected by the Department of Health.
It only happened once or twice a summer, but it always set the entire kitchen into a frenzy. We usually got a call from the front office, where they could stall the inspector for as much as a half hour. In that time, we would race around, cleaning and polishing everything that we could, making sure all of the food was properly marked and wrapped and stored. We were terrified of what would happen if we failed.