That's my formula for tax season. (Literally symbolic for all Bwick Elias fans.)
My hands are shredded for 2 or more months. Usually this is manifested as dozens of paper cuts on the tips and big thick, deep folder paper cuts on my palms. However, this year's inaugural boo boo was more impressive.
I picked up a stack of 6 legal size file folders (mostly full each one of them) and cradled them. Needing my right hand, I slid my arm up and rotated my hand so I could lay the folders against my palm and forearm. In the midst of rotating, the base of my thumb engaged with the metal back of the prong mount that holds the papers inside. Normally this piece is covered in tape to prevent scratching wood surfaces. I dragged my flesh against its edge drawing a ragged line. When I looked, the long flesh tag was still attached so I yanked it off and went on with my tasks knowing it wouldn't bleed for 10 seconds and during tax season, I don't have 10 seconds to waste waiting for blood.
And they mock me for wearing gloves to do filing.