Earning college money at HoJo's on the NJ Turnpike still ranks right up there with sucksville after 30 years. I had one god-awful printing job, but hanging out in a movement printshop (on S. Dearborn, before it became "Printer's Row," when there were still actual printshops there) was pretty cool, as was having my own small press and puttering. I gave it away to a lesbian collective who later claimed they "found" it in a basement, which left a permenent sour taste in my mouth about 60's idealism.
Kelly Girl sucked, too, but it was interesting doing one job in a manicure parlor, which unbeknownst to our manager was a TOPLESS manicure parlor, and yes, they offered me a job there. (It was a LONG time ago.)
chicago cabbying. I could write a book. The black hooker in the white peekaboos. Crazy Irwin and his basketball. Jerks telling me to take my hat off so they could see what I looked like.
And while I'm on the subject, let me mention a volunteer job working for the democratic candidate in 1972, not because I loked him, but because I hated Nixon so much. When I told a fellow canvasser I was feminist, he immediately wanted to know all about how being a feminist affected what you did in bed. I was so grossed out I left the campaign and didn't go back. Sigh.
And yes, I am a semi-professional storyteller, which rates the highest, so please don't steal my original material!