£3 an hour.
I worked In a small quaint village resurant/pub thing Just before I turned 15 as a dish washer. I wasn't on the books as I was too young really, so some weeks I wasn't paid.

It wasn't too bad other than one of the waiting staff always attempting to feel me up or get me drunk on irish coffee, one of the waitresses taking a deep disliking to me, being entirely ignored. Called a 'Ginger whore, who he wouldn't give a quid for' by a drunk patron, buying half an ounce of resin from someone waiting in the car park. Unknowingly running my bleach covered hand on many t-shirts, and getting nice pale streaks after cleaning. Getting covered in all manner of things, such as gravy, oniony crap, pepper corn sauce and the best of all, beef fat tipped down my trousers attracting every dog on the journey home. Oh and meeting the local flasher trying to show me his cock out the window of his car.

I had to get up at 7:00 on Sunday mornings (after pissing away all my earnings on vodka with some older mates) to walk the two miles into the little village where the place was. This was along a fairly dangerous stretch of road. I sometimes had to work on Friday and Saturday nights as well, thus I would have to walk home in the dark at 11 or 12 at night.

All this sheer irritation for about £15 a week, so that I could start saving for a Drum kit, music lessons, go to gigs, buy fags and other delights that looking 18 brings.

I was finally sacked after a year, since I stopped turning up when I realised that £15 was not worth all the effort, and I would rather spend my friday evenings at the boyfriends.
(Squermily, Sat 18 Feb 2006, 17:39, Reply)