Hitler was the man to tread by on tip-toes in Nazi Germany, but in several, rare instances Alistair Bowmore was just as authoritarian as the German dictator had been. He glared at the three men in front of him with an unwavering stare that took all three in at once. Each of them could have sworn that he had direct eye contact to them, which wouldn't be possible, because he never even once shifted his gaze from one to the other. "My job as President is to rule this country, not organize it," he snapped, "I sign and create treaties and documents with my advisers and foreign head of states, I get briefings from the Secreatries of State and have to figure out what to do with all the information they give me, which is an endless trail. But the one thing I should not have to do, gentlemen, is run around after my Generals or Secretaries trying to hunt for information they should have delivered to me long ago."
"Yes Mr. President," two of the generals chorused, the third one added a 'sir' after the President, which seemed to annoy the man even more than he already was.
"If you can't do your job it becomes impossible for me to do mine. So, tell me again General, why in the name of God did nobody tell me about the secret drone strikes in the Ukraine, how it destroyed almost everything we have set up there and that either we will be forced to pull out of conflict or sent another - I've forgotten the number - X-Million package of health and care supplies over to the Eastern front."
"I apologize - again - greatly." The general started. "At first we weren't sure if we could salvage things, and we decided it best to keep quiet. Then with all the stuff to do I forgot to report back, and once half a day had been over....nobody wanted to be the one to tell you because everyone was...afraid of being the one taken accounted for it."
"So it's better to not tell the President of a country who's fighting a war that he is, in fact, losing it? It's better to just stay behind on your fucking military cot with the boot of your commander stuck in you ass? What do you do all day? Smoke cigars?" For the first time he looked down, away from the three nervous men and at the notepad that lay before him. "This is a wild set-back, gentlemen. And you do realize that if I had the time to fire you I would. But I'm afraid that I'll have to let this slip-up go forgotten, it won't do me or the army any good to find and appoint new Generals." He set the pad and documents to the side, interwined his fingers and rested his locked hands on the smooth desk and then looked up at them again. "You do realize that this is how corruption, disorganisation and scandalous mishaps happen? By people not reporting, not doing their job, you're putting me in a position I don't want to be in." He said it almost more to himself then to the three before him. "And ya'll don't have to look at me like I'm a cat about to pounce, you know you had it coming. Otherwise you wouldn't have been scared to finally see me." The last sentence he muttered with a dark expression. "I'm not Adolf Hitler by the way, none of you are being sent to a concentration camp for not doing your jobs, so I don't get why you're so afraid of me." His far-fetched and somewhat alarming remark made one of the three military officers swallow hard. The General in the middle just nodded although he was a bit confused. It had become obvious to all three of them that their President and Commander in Chief was not totally present but rather in one of his la-la-land worlds even when breaking a hard lesson over the back of their necks. He was a terrifying man, somehow.
"Thank you for your time, gentlemen," he said, regaining his calm. "And I appreciate the honesty, even if it was late. I request a detailed report so that I can hold those accountable by docking their paychecks. If this ever happens again I will be forced to release those in charge - you folks - and whoever else contributed to the mistake. You can go now, gentlemen."
The three filed out of the room like obidient mice, which made Alistair chuckle to himself for a split second before he forgot what he'd even been laughing about and returned to scanning the documents on the desk with his eyes, as if searching for one key word or sentence that would unlock the entire meaning of the paper for him, saving him the tireless hours of paging through the entire bundle. After a few seconds he leaned back in his chair and stared at the Grandfathers clock ahead of him. It ticked away on the wall slowly, never changing it's pace even in the most boring or exciting hours. A President should be like a grandfathers clock, he decided, without bursts of sudden emotion or disgust, just always continously working towards his goals, ones he'd most probably never reach. He smiled to himself thoughtfully, and out of habit he glanced at the silver watch glistening on his right wrist to check the time. Quarter to eleven in the morning. He'd been in the office since 7am sharp. "Time for a break I suppose," he said softly.
While he exited the room his eyes fell on the grandfathers clock. It stood still. Funny. Hadn't it been ticking just seconds ago? He made a mental note to have it repaired.