About four years ago, I was contracting to a large insurance firm in their IT department in City Centre Dublin (Dawson Street, as it happens, for those who wish to guess what the firm is).
Anyway, my boss, Harry for the sake of this account, had asked me to go to Server Room Two and repatch some of the panels, as the cables were in an awful state. After about an hour on the job, alone in the server room, I started to get a little bored and so decided to go get a cup of coffee. I began to untangle myself from the cables around my feet and in the process turned around in order to make my exit from the room.
Unfortunately, untangling myself suddenly became a problem as my foot slipped through a gap in the floor. I instantly realized my foot was jammed and so I bent down to attempt to free it.
This is where things went haywire.
During the action of bending down, my bum extended toward the patch panel behind me and caught on a very large sharp edge to the poorly finished panel. It totally impaled my rear end and I let out a yelp. I immediately pulled myself of the metal spike and in the same movement, tripped on a cable and fell to the floor, thankfully freeing my foot in the process. My problem then was that my posterior was pouring blood at an ever increasing rate and my trousers were ripped through at the back. Not good.
As this calamity unfolded, Harry heard the commotion as he passed the server room and immediately entered only to find me gathering myself together while trying to stop the blood flow. He walked over to me and as he stood beside me he began a total laughing fit, and I mean hysterics as I revealed the disaster that had occurred moments before.
While laughing, he bent over double and impaled himself on the same spike! He, too, let out a yelp, lifted himself off the spike, and attempted to stop the torrent of blood flow from his rear! At this point terror entered his eyes. I was immediately asked if I had taken drugs. Or have AIDS. Maybe an STD or two. He seemed massively relieved to hear that I had never touched any drugs and was carrying no STDs.
But this story is only half over. We now had to figure out what to do. We realized we had to make our way to the first aid room. We literally legged it out of the server room, blood gushing all the way to the first aid room. What other employees thought of us as we rushed down the corridor clutching our collective bleeding butts, I'll never know, but people kept strangely silent. I think fear and shock may have been the prevailing emotions. After running down three corridors and catching the elevator, we made it to the first aid room and applied bandages to our behinds. Thankfully we managed our own bandaging.
After the gushing was under control, my boss and I took a joint trip to Marks and Spencer to buy new trousers, wearing jackets around our waists on the way in order to cover our missing trousers. We were happy now that nothing else could go wrong.
When we returned to the office, however, we discovered that the security guard had gotten our antics all on tape and had already shown our corridor dash to several staff members. I have never and will never live this down. But neither will my boss.