‘An officer is used to certain things’ thought Captain Rupert Horsechesterton as he sat in the mess tent, toying with the unappetizing grey sludge on his plate – ‘we have certain expectations connected to our rank, and these are things we’ve earned with hard work and loyalty to our cause’
‘We like to have a dedicated server – a man who brings us what we want in the mess hall. We like to be able to choose what we eat, and the order in which we eat it. We like to be able to choose a favorite table, sit at it when we want and get rid of any riff-raff if they sit next to us. All of this is only available when a man has a dedicated server working for him in the mess tent. A dedicated server is a great thing – he turns an ordinary meal time into a pleasurable, unique and privileged experience. A man is willing to pay a little for that privilege’.
The captain stared out of the window of the tent onto the pock-marked battlefield and continued his melancholy soliloquy ‘Things have changed recently. Meal times have lost their special appeal. New mess tents spring up on the battlefield that only have a buffet. We can’t even choose which dishes we eat. The officer’s table has been replaced by lines and lines of benches. A man doesn’t know who he’s going to be sitting next to, and we can't get rid of riff raff if they sit next to us. More and more of these tents are phasing out dedicated servers. Is this the modern way of making warfare?’
Suddenly angered and inspired by his internal monologue, the Captain got up from his bench, tossed his plate of grey buffet food aside and thrust his fist in the air in a mark of steely defiance.
"I will not take this anymore. I don’t need to eat here! I will take my meals the old-fashioned way! I will choose a mess tent with dedicated servers!"
With that he took his sword, put Monty on his shoulder, and strode out of the tent into the fresh morning air.
http://www.battlefieldheroes.com/forum/showthread.php?tid=82163
