You were briskly walking down the corridors of the McLaren HQ in Woking, in a rush to get to the photocopier to duplicate some documents.

Out of nowhere, one of the doors beside you flung open, sending you down onto the floor. "Shit, oh my god, I am so sorry," Daniel rambled, "Are you alright?" He asked, offering a hand to help you up.

Your elbows and knees were red raw from the carpet as you winced.