My broker held an "emergency team meeting" last Tuesday that turned out to be a two-hour lecture about how someone left a dirty coffee mug in the break room sink. Two hours. I had a showing scheduled that I had to reschedule, and this man spent forty-five minutes discussing "respect for shared spaces" while making intense eye contact with everyone in the room like he was trying to identify the mug criminal through sheer intimidation. Then he pivoted into a speech about how we're "a family" and families don't leave dishes in the sink. The kicker? Three agents later confirmed they saw him leave his own lunch container in the fridge for so long it grew actual mold last month. But sure, let's cancel our afternoons over a coffee mug. I sat there nodding and smiling while mentally calculating how much commission I'd need to open my own brokerage where the only rule is "handle your own drama and let me sell houses." The mug was mine, by the way. I'll never tell.