By 2005 we had taken on a lady called Joy to help grow our Spice business. Full of vim and vitality, Joy really did live up to her name. Part of her job was to book us into local businesses where we would put up the Spice presentation boards and hand out newsletters in the hope of attracting new members. It was usually a two-person operation with myself and Dom taking it in turns to help out.
On one fateful morning Joy arrived in the office to collect Dom and the rest of the paraphernalia, but we woke to discover that our website had crashed. As most of our bookings came in via the web, this was a disaster, so Dom stayed behind to fix it. I went with Joy and was grateful to get out of the office to escape the bad language that was filling the air.
Hoping that everything was back to normal I returned home to find Dom hopping around in agony, asking me to take him to our local town hospital. Alarmed, I asked:
“What have you done?”
“I think I’ve broken my toe!” came the pained response.
At this point I was still very concerned and asked how he could have possibly injured himself so badly.
“I kicked the fax machine.”
Okay, now I was trying not to laugh. “That was pretty stupid” I managed to say, barely able to keep a straight face.
Luckily, our nearest town hospital isn’t too far away, and during the short drive the full story came out. Frustrated by the lack of progress on fixing the I.T. problem, Dom kicked the fax machine which sat on the floor under the printer table. Shoes, slippers or socks would have afforded some degree of protection, but Dom was bare-footed.
When the doctor asked how he sustained his injury, Dom replied:
“I had a problem with I.T.”
He was taken away to have the offending appendage X-rayed and the doctor pointed to where his toe was fractured. Dom refused to believe this diagnosis, and certainly wasn’t going to have his foot plastered, pointing out that he had “hit it on the other side.” A statement that ‘the patient had declined treatment’ was entered on his medical notes and he was sent home, limping on two crutches. A few days later the Royal Berks confirmed he had torn some ligaments. He couldn’t play sports for a couple of weeks, but he never kicked the office hardware again.
I suppose he should be grateful the doctor didn’t ask to fax the results across!