Earlier this evening, after a particular trying day at the office doing my part-time, not on salary, no bonuses work on this new account, and before doing my please for the love of God/Allah/Zeus/Krishna/Buddha/Anyone with Some Potential Celestial and Atmospheric Authority let it not snow once again dance, I spent at least twenty minutes trying to unscrew a brand new Rose's Lime Juice bottle. Since I had already measured some Tanqueray into my shaker, and I really cannot tolerate nice chilled gin going to waste, I manipulated my cork screw and punctured a hole through the bottle cap. Resourceful, or desperate? You decide.
I was going to make some dreadfully clever and sardonic joke about adding "tool use" to my resume, before realizing, even in my bleary, lap-top eyed one-gimlet stupor, that the comment would retrogress me to some primordial primate. Opposable thumbs, cognitive capabilities that foster linguistic capacity, not so much marketable talents in this era. Though perhaps I could thoroughly and confusedly impressive someone during an interview by outlining my pollical skills.