Jobs.

The first job I ever had was washing dishes in a small restaurant. My friend Tommy was working there, and got me the job. I was 15.
My first night, he came up to me, as I stood in front of the sink, and handed me a lady's slip. Where it came from, I don't know. He told me there was a shortage of aprons and the health code required me to wear one, so I should just tuck the slip into the front of my jeans. I was nervous, because it was my first day, so, as dubious as I was, I did it. Later, the boss came around and asked me what I was wearing. Then he and Tommy had a big laugh at my expense. You had to be on your toes around Tommy.
Tommy told me that he was once making a large tub of coleslaw, at that restaurant, and he accidentally sneezed into it. He was honest about it and informed the manager. The guy thought for a moment, shrugged, and told him to just "stir it up real good."
The next job I had was working in the mail room at our local newspaper. I ran a large machine that placed ads into the paper. This was back in the days when they still used the big press. It was always exciting when the press cranked up and those papers began rolling down the conveyor belt. I guess it's all done digitally, now.
At 19, I worked in a grocery store, in Portsmouth, Virginia, as a stocker. I recall having the flu and unloading trucks, outside, during extremely cold winter nights. My girlfriend and I were so broke, we lived off of 5-for-a-dollar generic chicken pot pies and Tater Tots. I would walk to work.
I broke up with the Portsmouth girlfriend and came home - and back to the mail room at the newspaper. I also had a paper route, that I ran 7 nights a week, after I finished my shift. I was employed at the newspaper when I got married - at 20 years old. In fact, my wife and I spent our honey moon night delivering papers on my route (sadly enough). I eventually got her a job in the mail room, too. We would get the paper out, then, at about midnight, collect the papers for our route. We had about 275 homes to deliver to - over a very large area. It happened to be the one of the worst routes there was. No one would pay their paper bill. Nowadays, you get paid by the newspaper. Back then, you had to collect from the customers. If they didn't pay you, you didn't get paid. And you still had to pay the newspaper for the papers. When I quit, I was owed $800. That was a lot of money to me in the early 80s.
One fond memory I have, of our paper route drive, was our (very) early morning radio ritual of listening to the Larry King show...
After the newspaper, my friend Russell got me a job as a stocker/delivery driver at an auto parts store. He had just quit and I took his position. The old man who owned the place was a dead ringer for Mr. Scrooge - in looks and disposition.
My next job was working at a wood preserving company. We made utility poles. We would scrape the poles, cut, drill, brand and tag them to order, and send them to the other end of the yard to be treated. Right after I quit that job, the wages shot up (of course).
I was extremely depressed during my mid 20s, and had a hard time maintaining employment. Eventually, my wife got me a job, as a dish washer, at the restaurant where she was employed: The Western Steer Steakhouse. As stupid as that job was, it helped turn my life around. I met the most amazing people there, and eventually began to come out of my depression. That's why I stayed with that company for 6 years - 4 at one location (until it closed) and 2 at another, across town (until IT closed). I eventually became a cook and a meat cutter.
During the Steer period, my wife and I broke up.
A manager from the Steer had a wife who managed a dollar store in the mall. After the restaurant closed, she gave me a job. I would unload trucks, stock the store and run a register. I did that until I met my friend Rick.
I was in a band with a waitress, from the Steer, and her husband. Our drummer quit and we auditioned Rick. He became our drummer and we became great friends.
Rick was running a golf course and he asked me if I'd like a job. I had recently met Rick's friend, and co-worker, Chuck. We had become friends. Chuck convinced me that golf course maintenance should be a part of my future. I took the job. I stayed in the golf business for about 17 years, eventually becoming maintenance supervisor. Unfortunately, that ended, in an unexpected, and quite nasty, manner, last November. I haven't recovered from it, yet.
On a bright note, after many years, I'm still friends with Rick. And Chuck? He became the friend I never dreamed I'd have as an adult. We remain best friends to this day.
I did take a year off, from the golf business (around 2005) to help my (then) partner run a vinyl graphics and T-shirt design company. I loved doing that, but the business, and the relationship, ended disastrously...