It was to have a profound influence on my life.
In 1984 I was in solo medical practice in a country town in New South Wales.
I was young and enthusiastic, excited by the technological developments in medical imaging.
Multislice CT machines were at the cutting edge of diagnosis, but were, at that time, only available in major centres.
I had several friends who worked as engineers with the major medical imaging manufacturers - Siemens, Phillips, GE, Toshiba - and over a few beers I was persuaded to purchase one of these technological marvels, the first to be installed in this country outside the major metropolitan centres.
It was a financial gamble, the purchase price having an intimidating number of noughts on the end of it, but I was young (and half-pissed at the time), and signed up for a 5 year lease contract with the supplier.
It was a truly revolutionary development in diagnosis, unquestionably saved many lives and avoided the medically primitive alternative of diagnostic laparotomy.
But there is a penalty imposed by the fates for the tempting thereof.
The xray tubes for these machines were also high tech with a proportionate purchase price.
It was the nasty little threat lurking in the shadows of this technological wonder.
But if you tempt fate egregiously, its response can be devastating.
And it was.
The first tube called it quits just inside the guarantee period, and was replaced.
I was young and enthusiastic, excited by the technological developments in medical imaging.
Multislice CT machines were at the cutting edge of diagnosis, but were, at that time, only available in major centres.
I had several friends who worked as engineers with the major medical imaging manufacturers - Siemens, Phillips, GE, Toshiba - and over a few beers I was persuaded to purchase one of these technological marvels, the first to be installed in this country outside the major metropolitan centres.
It was a financial gamble, the purchase price having an intimidating number of noughts on the end of it, but I was young (and half-pissed at the time), and signed up for a 5 year lease contract with the supplier.
It was a truly revolutionary development in diagnosis, unquestionably saved many lives and avoided the medically primitive alternative of diagnostic laparotomy.
But there is a penalty imposed by the fates for the tempting thereof.
The xray tubes for these machines were also high tech with a proportionate purchase price.
It was the nasty little threat lurking in the shadows of this technological wonder.
But if you tempt fate egregiously, its response can be devastating.
And it was.
The first tube called it quits just inside the guarantee period, and was replaced.
It's replacement didn't quite make it.
CT imaging was an essential service that undoubtedly saved lives, but was, at best, revenue neutral for the practice.
There was no money in reserve to cover the $50,000 cost of the replacement.
A couple of guys in suits flew up from Sydney to explain the situation to me.
It looked like it was the going to be the end of my days of financial liquidity, not to mention solo private medical practice.
This was the moment that Al and Barbie Pease came to my rescue.
After a frantic re-reading of the relevant section their book, I set up my office for my interview with the heavies from finance.
All the lights in my office were turned off, with the exception of a bank of bright fluorescents behind me.
My chair was pumped up to its maximum height. Their chairs had been lowered to the limits.
My six foot-four rugby-playing technician stood behind them with a fixed scowl, his arms folded.
The heavies from finance sat on their lowered chairs squinting into the light, their knees level with their shoulders.
After a few moments silence, they hesitatingly asked what my plan was for the payment of the fifty thousand.
I told them that there wasn't one.
After a short period of silence, one of them said "Well. OK, then. How about a beer?"
CT imaging was an essential service that undoubtedly saved lives, but was, at best, revenue neutral for the practice.
There was no money in reserve to cover the $50,000 cost of the replacement.
A couple of guys in suits flew up from Sydney to explain the situation to me.
It looked like it was the going to be the end of my days of financial liquidity, not to mention solo private medical practice.
This was the moment that Al and Barbie Pease came to my rescue.
After a frantic re-reading of the relevant section their book, I set up my office for my interview with the heavies from finance.
All the lights in my office were turned off, with the exception of a bank of bright fluorescents behind me.
My chair was pumped up to its maximum height. Their chairs had been lowered to the limits.
My six foot-four rugby-playing technician stood behind them with a fixed scowl, his arms folded.
The heavies from finance sat on their lowered chairs squinting into the light, their knees level with their shoulders.
After a few moments silence, they hesitatingly asked what my plan was for the payment of the fifty thousand.
I told them that there wasn't one.
After a short period of silence, one of them said "Well. OK, then. How about a beer?"
The four of us walked down the street to the pub, where we discussed Parramatta's chances in the Rugby League grand final.
Post Script:
It is logical to assume that Trump has skim-read this book on body language, or, more likely, looked at the illustrations.
He self-consciously shows us his open palms when he is speaking, in an attempt to reassure us of his honesty and trustworthiness, but the self-consciously contrived nature of his gesture simply reinforces our scepticism.
He self-consciously shows us his open palms when he is speaking, in an attempt to reassure us of his honesty and trustworthiness, but the self-consciously contrived nature of his gesture simply reinforces our scepticism.
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