The worst job I ever had was as a waitress at a rest stop on the New Jersey Turnpike the summer I was 18. Everyone who passed through the place wanted their food now, and many of them seemed to think that tipping was a nice idea in theory but not in practice. The' pace was manic, and I had to wear a hairnet and white oxfords: Most of the time I arrived at work crying, and drove hotne crying. The only good thing I can say about the experience is that it left me with the most profound respect for people who wait tables and with a pronounced tendency to overhp.
I had other jobs, before and after that one. I stuffed jelly doughnuts at a bakery in a bad neighborhood; I called people who were behind on their bills and ordered them to pay up. I was good at doughnuts and bad at threats. After that I bad jobs in the newspaper business only, so I never felt that I had a bad job again. I did not particularly care for working night rewrite on New Year's Eve, but I imagine that makes me just about average.
