He didn’t want questions about my deployments.
He didn’t want military officers recognizing my ribbons.
He didn’t want anyone asking why his daughter had served overseas while his son made millions arranging corporate acquisitions.
And most of all, he didn’t want to explain why he barely knew anything about my career.
He looked at my uniform again.
Then he said the sentence I would remember for the rest of my life.
“Compared to what Daniel has accomplished, being a career soldier isn’t particularly impressive anymore.”
The room seemed to disappear.
For one second, I heard nothing.
Not the conversations.
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