Some people apparently have never been through those situations like you describe, where what should be a simple thing turns out to be the biggest pain in the ass you've ever experienced (or at least, it seems so at the time). A thing like you describe with that grip is something that would turn me into a raving lunatic, probably give me a panic attack, and send me throwing stuff across the room and/or swearing like a sailor.
As you said, so eloquently, "some sadistic shit's idea of a joke," what a way to describe it.
That kind of shit is why I quit sewing. I never liked sewing, but I'd do it when I had to, if it saved a lot of money or my impossible-to-fit daughters needed new pants when they were really little (every pair of pants that fit around the waist was about 4" too long for their little short legs). But I could get some thread knotted up, or a bobbin that wasn't wound at consistent tension, and the seam wouldn't look right, and I'd start fiddling with the machine trying to fix it all, and end up either wanting to cry or feeling like a mass murderer and just wanting to slaughter anybody within sight.
That's only one example, but there have been many. And I have friends in real life that I could describe that situation to, and they'd look at me like I had three heads and wonder what I got so upset about. Well, just never damn mind. lol
