Death By Power Point

“So what’s the, what’s their-”
“Chaos!”
I personally love it when briefers answer questions before they’re asked. It establishes the appearance of topical knowledge, understanding, and above all not giving a damn about the question or who asks it.

The class, if you can call it that; was held in Kuwait inside our Company’s tent, a beer festival sized monstrosity housing all of the males. Eventually, for reasons termed “military necessity”, it also housed three females, though even a quick glance into their tent yielded tens of unused cots. Necessity indeed.

In the midst of the class, whose topic revolved somewhere near 2 year old intelligence reports surrounding extremist groups, I glanced towards the cot of our company commander. He was lying flat on his back, eyes shut and chest rising rhythmically. Clearly, asleep. I snapped a photo too grainy without flash and turned back towards the slide show amidst glares from the presenter.

“Do you have a question?” I have no nickname for him, all of them would be too explicit and long winded, so instead I’ll call him by the third person Arabic name he references himself as constantly – Sharif.
“Nope. I’m good.” I smiled a smile which said, You’re a prick, but I’ll pay attention because you outrank me.

I glanced at Thin Mints as my camera was handed off to Sirsquatch, who took a photo of us pretending to care. The pretend was genuine, as Sharif had bored half of the unfortunate group of students into a daze. Looking around the room the faces in the crowd offered a myriad of expressions. They said stop! Bored. Where am I?

Absent minded regarding the drivel I was exposed to, yet still somehow awake, I zoned out to such a degree that I came back into focus with a mechanical pencil digging a shallow trench in some cut I had received. It’s only when you’ve started to dig into your own skin that you are truly, no longer paying attention.