I also have painful memories as a teenager of being asked to help my father out one Saturday morning, he was superintendent of mechanised accounts for a large insurance firm, and it was all hands on deck to move the boxes of punch cards containing the customers' data from one room to another. I was wearing a very chunky hand knitted sweater and a large gold medallion (this was the early '60s) Whilst carrying the trays (trying to show off and carring more than one at a time) the medallion hooked itself in my sweater behind the trays, and in attempting free it, I dropped all the trays. Cards everywhere, completely out of order, my father never swore, but I could see he was tempted, and I was never asked to help out again!