I pushed open the over-sized oak door that, with a freshly-polished brass sign, belonged to the Chairman of Untitled Inc. The CEO sat contemplatively behind his desk – no, mark that, he slept soundly behind his desk. The slight brushing of the door against the jam startled him into life and, upon seeing the gun in my hand, his eyes went wide. So very wide.

The CEO ’s handlebar mustache flapped into life as his lips moved. “This is a mistake, I’m just a salesman. Nobody important,â€? he pleaded. His right hand, concealed under his desk, strained slightly. He was pushing his panic button; security would burst through the same heavy oak door as me in mere moments.

I raised the gun, keeping my hand steady. Put on your poker face, never let them see you cry. Remember: this is just business.

My eyes finally met his, the slight obfuscation the gun’s sight provided making it bearable. “Hi, Dad,â€? I said. “This is a hostile takeover.â€?

As I squeezed the trigger on the gun, I hoped that I remembered to load it.