So there I was, hunched in my cubicle struggling to keep the grip steady on my "#3 Coworker" coffee mug in spite of the sweat dripping into my palm. My boss was also in my cubicle with his replica civil war musket aimed directly at my temple and its bayonet poking the side of my neck. "It's time we talk to Janice in HR," he said, those words making me wish he just pulled the damn trigger.