And what on a garage door opener needs grease slathered on it?
I’d expect a screw-drive opener to be pre-lubed. Chain-drives just need a little oil. Does Genie still make that nylon strap drive that needs no lube ever?
I find this thread hilarious because “God Dammit - FUCK!” - in that order - has always been my default tools-related exclamation of frustration, ever since I had a little workbench when I was 12.
Remember, kids, there is nothing so precious as freedom of speech when you’ve just hit your thumb with the hammer.
I think I’ve posted this before, but maybe not:
My sons, having reached adulthood a few years ago, told me that during my basement-finishing days they developed a set of automatic responses to whatever they heard Dad yell from the construction area. “Well, God DAMN-it!” meant it was time to go outside and play because Dad was gonna’ take a beer break and then cut a new board. “Son. Of. A. Bitch.” prompted a skirmish over who got to ride shotgun during the trip to the home improvement center. And “Oh, mother FUCK!” meant pack an overnight bag, we have to stay at grandma’s until the plumbing/electrical/whatever contractor can fix whatever Dad broke.
I just hope for your sake that you still, in fact, now own a garage door opener and not a trebuchet.
Heh. It does in fact work very nicely.
He was walking around the open front of the garage with the lube-looking stuff, and I couldn’t really see what he was lubing. Something vertical attached to the wall by the pushbutton.
When the Better Half got home, he remarked that maybe we ought to charge them 20 bucks per cuss word. I was more “meh” myself, since I’ve long since learned that men, and workmen, and repairmen, and even repairpersons, are likely to yell cuss words from time to time, kinda goes with the territory. I’ve hollered “fuck” myself a few times, when a curtain rod or something refused to hang (but not if anyone else was around, of course…)
However, Sarge, I’d like to mention that my particular own personal workman never, ever yells cuss words, at least, not loud enough to be heard inside the house. 
So if it was him out there fixing the garage door opener, if I heard loud clanging noises followed by long suspicious silences, then I’d go out there and politely ask him how it’s going. If I ever heard him yell “Dammit! Fuck!” I’d know that somehow his twin brother from Michigan had lost 80 pounds and decided to come down here and inexplicably masquerade as his brother.
Heh-heh…if it was my house, the door would be going up and down like a toll booth guardrail.