Ah, the 1970s. I was so young! Would you be surprised to know I visited countless pubs every week back then? 🍺
No, not for the reasons you’re thinking! My first owner maintained cigarette vending machines, and I was his chief helper.
I wasn’t alone — there were several more like me.
We had a hard life, and I soon noticed how some of my friends never returned. Instead, they were replaced by newer, younger models.
I often had nightmares about what might have happened to them. That made me hide near the bottom of the toolbox.
One day, my owner’s in-laws got locked out after leaving a key in the door on the inside, blocking the keyhole.
It was supposed to be a quiet Sunday afternoon, but I ended up saving the day by enabling him to remove the door handle, rotate that pesky key, and push it out of the keyhole.
After feeling pleased with myself, things took an unexpected turn.
My owner realised his young brother-in-law didn’t possess even one decent screwdriver, so he handed me over.
