The worst job I ever had was as a busboy in a restaurant in the East Village. My shifts were during brunch every Saturday and Sunday, so I had to be there at 9am. That means I had to wake up at 8. I was in college, so that meant that I either couldn’t go out on the Friday and Saturday nights before, or that I would and show up hungover and sleep-deprived. I had to run food and barback in addition to being a busboy, and still didn’t make much money in tips. I had to deal with managers and customers that I despised. I knew I didn’t want to work there anymore when one “hip” customer shoo-shooed me with his hand because we didn’t have any hot sauce other than Tabasco.