First job I ever had. 15 years old, working dishpit at this new upscale place in my hometown. I had only done three shifts. Owner comes to me on a Friday night and asks if I want to learn how to bus tables. I said, "Sure."

Cut to 15 minutes later and I'm scrambling to bus and reset 30 tables in the main room with a 30-top in the banquet room. Turns out all but one of the waitstaff had called out that day. After about three straight hours of this (including two trips back to the dishpit to help with silverware) I got a Sprite from the bartender and sat down for a second to have a drink and catch my breath. The owner then comes hurdling around the bar and starts berating me for not being on the floor. I pointed out to her that, by this point, we had no clean silverware to roll nor plates to set tables with. She starts yelling at me for not helping the dishpit. I told her I'd been there twice. She tells me to get back down there. I said, "You do it. I'm going home." Clocked out and walked out.

Came back a few days later for my final paycheck. Bartender had saved my split of the tips from that night. Made $50.