The Colonels

We sat in the General's office around a polished conference table.
They were all in uniform: the starched blue and white.
There were six Colonels. All men. All white. Crevasses on their faces: the sediment and cracks of rank.
I sat at the head of the table, in a skin-tight black dress and bright yellow cardigan. I wore lipstick. I forgot these things when the meeting began. I have a unique ability to forget myself when I talk about the work I'm doing; the projects I care about. This is the saving grace for a personality that likes to urge and question and deplores the spotlight.
They had my business card and presentation.
 Dan used to call me a "true believer", a derogatory or affectionate term but I hated the implication: that I was driven by emotion, not reason.
But I do believe in what I'm doing, so perhaps he wasn't far wrong.
I spoke fervently. I fielded their questions.

They nodded when I noted that "capability" was more than technical aptitude.
They were concerned about whether Foreign Military Sales satisfied real-world requirements.
They expressed concern about those instances where partner objectives did not appear to align with our own.
They asked about partner transparency - reluctance in disclosing true objectives or unwillingness to participate in an "assessment" of true capability.
There was a concern about partners with deep pockets and a willingness to purchase items - but who lacked the ability or willingness to use the items appropriately or to greatest effect.
There was a question about "cultural differences" regarding concepts such as maintenance and drill schedules.
They wondered whether the folks in policy should hear about this.

They let me stay longer than planned. We shook hands. They talked among themselves. And the Colonel who had invited me walked me back to the entrance.