Empty your right front pocket onto the table and look at it honestly. A knife, a pen, a marker, a light, receipts, a couple of screws, keys, a phone getting scratched by all of it.
That isn't a pocket. It's a container with no organisation, and it charges you three ways.
It costs you gear. Things don't get stolen — they slide out. Off a ladder, out of a truck seat, onto a job site floor. Men in the reviews describe buying the same flashlight over and over, losing markers constantly, watching a notepad get destroyed by everything else riding against it.
It costs you time. Every single retrieval is a search. Hand in, feel around, wrong item, try again. Fifteen times a day, every day, for years.
It costs you comfort. Nobody says this one out loud. Something is always poking your leg. A clip digs in when you sit. You shift, you rearrange, you go about your day mildly irritated by your own trousers — and you've done it so long you think it's normal.
None of that is a discipline problem. It's a container problem.
