A jar

My mother was vexed. She had tried all the usual methods to open a jar of imported apricot jam -- hot water, a sure-grip rubber disc -- and it just wasn't cooperating. She brought it to Easter dinner to see if any of us had a solution.
I tried the old-fashioned claw-like bottle opener that works like a charm on tight applesauce jars, but the lid was thick and had a plastic seal underneath, so the claw couldn't get any purchase.
My brother, an engineer and all-around clever fix-it guy, studied the jar for a few moments and then took it out to the garage. He was back within a minute -- bearing an opened jar.
Great anthems of praise greeted him. How on earth did he do it?
"Don't ask," he said mysteriously, meticulously wiping the lid before allowing my mother to sample the jam.
Speaking of gadgets, I spotted those old-fashioned metal ice-cube trays in a catalog: "The original is back and our customers are thrilled!" Not me: those things were almost impossible to open, and you rarely got an intact ice cube. Buy the plastic trays.