Dish washing at a tea room. 10 hours a day in a kitchen about the size of my tiny office now. Also, between a constantly running oven a foot away from me and a dozen kettles of boiling water in Georgia summer, this kitchen would stay at a pretty constant 85-90 degrees. No automated stuff, just my hands and three sinks that were just a wee bit too short for me to stand up straight.
And holy mother of god did I hate the woman I worked for. She was constantly belittling and abusive to everyone. But the tea was tasty, I liked the other ladies that worked there and the happy customers we had. It was nice when the cook was out or insanely swamped, since I would take over and plate. Although, that meant I ALSO had to do the nine million dishes that came in as soon as another set of plates went out.
Hard work, but it built character. And allowed me to buy my first car.