Who's Gruntled?

My brother-in-law likes to talk about the time when his son, then around four years of age, gave him a disconcerting look in the mirror. The boy was dragging his father's heavy briefcase down the hall, shaking his head in disgust, and lamenting over and over, "Work--damn it" Summer brings that attitude out in wage slaves everywhere. Why just this morning Radio Bob asked me to share a tedious afternoon monitoring signal strength in the St. Lawrence Valley aboard his aquatic leisure-research vessel Mona I was obliged to plead a prior work commitment,
"No trunks--damn it!"