Some opening frames of conversation amongst the populi these days :
“(Expletive) man! We got s#*%^ed in BUFFs ! “
“How’s your SAMA doing? “
“MDS ya Sematic ? What about conjoint?”
You know something’s amiss when the men stop discussing women’s attire (or the lack of it on campus) at the dinner table and talk like this. Welcome to Markstrat ! The word is now synonymous with ISBians, bringing to one’s mind long hours and countless of cups of coffee, ferocious arguments, lost hours of sleep and poring over tons of charts and graphs in search of that elusive manna from heaven – NET CONTRIBUTION!
Markstrat is a lot like speed dating. Lots of planning and preening, a touch here, a touch there, scanning out the other hopefuls, finding out missing parts in your wooing strategy, and when the moment arrives, you’re either onto something or damned to eternal celibacy. Markstrat takes no prisoners. But then, you could get lucky too :-)!
Is it addictive? Yes. Fun? Yes! And brutal? I’d say that too. My group sat up late into the night poring over maps, shooting mails declaring a jihad on competition, and egging each other on to victory. If that isn’t war, what else is?
Well, enough of this dispatch from the frontline. Excuse me while I go back to adjusting the sights on my weapon, and aim hard. Its time for the war council to meet. To lift a line from a war game – “Shoot, communicate, move, A-ha! “