The only thing I thought of at the meeting was "when the hell am I going to get out of here?" I used to look at the clock every 5 minutes. I didn't have a choice, my parents forced me to attend the programming sessions aka "meetings" and to slave away at marketing the corporation cult in "field service."
When I think of meetings, I think of a weird smell that came from some of the old people. The smell, coupled with the involuntary nature of my attendance, did nothing to make me think of sex. Instead, I pondered the environmental differences between the kingdom hall and an outhouse.