At 2:30 in the morning, Bren is snoring in the office as Verna paces, telling us that she hasn't been eating or taking care of herself. She says that for most of the night, she was "thinking." Oh, good plan. No point in sleeping when you can stay up and pace.
Morning comes. A woman comes to check out, and wakes up Bren, who has been snoozing in the office. She asks if there's coffee anywhere, and he says he'll go and check. He goes and wakes up Verna, who he knows was working on a morning delivery of coffee and donuts. "I'm tired," she tells him from her bed. "I have quit. I'm just not playing this game anymore." He asks her what she means, and she says she's not playing. He tries to get her back on the topic of coffee, but she won't answer, apparently not satisfied to stop herself, but deciding to sabotage the team's progress in the bargain. We see Verna get up in her bed and lean over to slam the door in the camera's face. Bren then wakes up some more team folks and breaks the news about Verna apparently flying the coop. As we see Bren run out and then return with coffee, he voices over that he assumes someone -- maybe Michael -- knows what Verna's deal is, and he just doesn't know whom to ask, but he'll be starting with the PM. Literally as Bren is doing this interview, he looks over his shoulder to see Verna walking off, dragging her little rolly-bag behind her. It's like she's heading off for the saddest vacation of all time. Bren says that he figured they were sunk, because even if people had been happy the night before, if they got crappy service in the morning when they were filling out their Yahoo! surveys, they'd be unhappy and give low ratings. Oh, Bren, they're not going to give low ratings because of that. They're going to give low ratings because their risks for certain diseases increased by a factor of ten overnight while they were inhaling paint fumes.
Verna wanders the streets with her rolly-case. I guess if you walk off a task at the Jersey shore, you kind of have nowhere to go, which is her problem. She explains to us that she was just thinking about all her problems she'd endured, and she had put all sorts of pressure on herself, and "wanted to escape."
Over at Net Worth, Tana is checking people out as happy 1950s music plays. She checks that the guests received their newspapers, which they did. She offers bottles of water, and does her best to be gracious when one guy takes to heart her chipper question about how things were and tells her, "The worst ever. It was horrible. Beds were like sleeping on a slab of concrete." Plastic-covered concrete, that is. He also didn't love the paint on the floors. Jeez, way to be inflexible, Hotel Guest Guy. Tana tries to make it up to him with free donuts for breakfast. I have a feeling that's a big nothing doing there. She interviews that she tried hard to make sure people were at least full when they filled out the surveys. "I think we won on customer service," she says. "Because we wouldn't have won on the insides of those rooms, I'll tell you that." She shouldn't jump to conclusions. Some people like sleeping on concrete. And think painted carpets are chic.