Bilberson’s triskaidekaphobia was, I am told, propelled by a vaticinal tale told him by his mother on his twelfth birthday that left the lad in such a nervous state that his hands shook and he was forced to abandon his apprenticeship, and thus a promising career, as a lapidist despite his eagerness to learn and his constant willingness to go the extra mile the shakes were unshakable and he was forced to take a position as an elevator operator in a super high rise with no thirteenth floor designed by an equally phobic architect.