Reminded me about a story about my uncle frank.
He was working at a shipyard in Philly and had his eye on an anvil- problem was that it was 200 lbs easy, and every day they filed in and out of the gate- so no way two of them could nick it!
So he starts getting a bad back...every day, mumbling and complaining to the guard at the gate, hobbling out at the end of his shift...all week long..."damn back acting up again"
Friday comes, he straps the anvil up to his crotch, tosses on his overcoat and hobbles on out the gate. "Wow that back sure looks like it's troubling you, Frank..."
My grandpa's brother. Grandpa died in 1976, he was 80. This was probably around 1920.