You know, I always read posts about this sort of thing where it's speculated that blue collar workers and tradesmen know more about handling tools than your average suburbanite, city slicker, or what have you...
To provide a counter point I'll tell you all about my great grandfather, the man who taught me how to use a saw and hammer around the same time I was learning to read. My grandfather was born in 1906, and grew up on Kentucky farmland. He learned how to raise livestock as well as barns, and went on to become a carpenter. He plied his trade for decades, and constructed so many of the buildings in this area that I doubt many people in the older parts of town live more than 50 feet from wood framing stained with his sweat.
With that background out of the way, on to the point; I have all of his old pocket knives, and every one he ever used on the job is thoroughly ruined. They're caked with gunk, some of which I can only assume is tar, others I couldn't venture a guess as to the origin of the substances. Every one of them has at least one broken off blade.
It disappoints me to some degree, because I subscribe to the same policy as most here, and wouldn't pry or turn anything with a knife blade outside of a true emergency. But, to my grandfather a pocket knife was just a convenient tool to keep on hand in case nothing more suitable was a quick, easy trip away. Something with which to scrape, pry, Jimmy, or retrieve a nail from a gap when searching for an alternative instead of pressing on with what was in his back pocket meant losing daylight.
While it's not my way of doing things, I try not to look on it too dimly. I've not worked half as long as hard as my grandfather, and it's hardly surprising that our sensibilities would differ on many points, being separated by two generations. He had his reasons, as I'm sure we all do.
Well.... This post has gone on far longer than I really planned. Don't know how to end it at this point, so I just will. Thanks for reading.