The worst job I ever had was working for a big book store downtown.  It was horrible because I was literally at the bottom of the totem pole.  I worked in the sort room, which was in the basement.  When shipments of books came, I sorted them into different bins.  I put a Lincoln Park Chicago neighborhood directory into the geography books section, political autobiographies into politics and news, fantasy novels into fantasy and scifi, and so on and on.  There were no windows and the sort room was like a cavern beneath the surface of the earth.  It was always dank and dim and there was no clock.  Time slowed massively down.  I’d take breaks and a lunch, but they always seemed so far off in the future when I started at the beginning of the day.  By the time I took the train to and from there, it’d be pitch black out and I’d just throw myself down on my parents’ couch and lie there, not thinking.  I barely lasted two weeks at that job.  They were only paying minimum wage, which back then was 5.45 an hour.  I was a college student and getting financial aid and didn’t have a car or any bills I had to take care of so I quit.  It just wasn’t worth it to carry on.