I thought of this question because someone joked about double-dipping their hands in the chocolate fountain at Golden Corral and boy did that invoke one of my least favorite paying-for-college memories.
Yes, someone did dip his hands into the chocolate fountain at the Golden Corral. Worse, he was a repeat offender, a man that was at least in his 30s if not older slurping it off of his fingers and all, sometimes while making eye contact with me or my coworkers. Worse, there was no enforced rule against doing so, at least at my location, so my manager just told me to let him do it, don’t make a big deal out of it, and hope he doesn’t bother anyone else.
That same manager once insisted on me making the place extra clean a little before Christmas, so they insisted that I use double the amount of cleaning bleach in the same bucket. I explained that’s not how cleaning works or how OSHA compliance works. I got a write-up. I said that wasn’t an offense that qualified for a write-up, and what they said was “thanks for the tip, I’ll find something that is. Your word against mine.” 
That same manager punched me out early without telling me, because the place wasn’t perfect enough before I left over an hour late, missing my family waiting to pick me up outside by that long to go out to do holiday stuff. I did call that in on the supposedly anonymous tip line later, but you can guess what happens when an anonymous tip about wage theft is called in on a manager that already knows who would call in that tip in a “right to work” situation. 
That same manager was fired a week later for embezzlement, and not the cool kind. They were writing up and firing people for months for money missing from the register. I found out when collecting my last check and noticed someone new. 
My first job was working in fast food when I was 14 years old. My parents had applied for me thinking it would be a good way to make some money and get independence. None of my experiences are as bad as some comrades here, but they’re burned into my brain.
It was exhausting work for an out of shape autistic nerd, having to run like mad all day in a hot, loud kitchen. I got a dressing down once because I would clean the grease off the flat top between cooking using two hands until the halfway point, then switching to one at the end. Procedures and rules said two hands the whole time, but I regularly burned my knuckle on the clamshell top and wanted to avoid it. This was an official writing up that contributed to me losing my job, and I could not understand it at the time.
The worst of it was that everyone knew I was a kid and had school, and yet I would often get closing shifts during the week. It wouldn’t be so bad except closing didn’t have a set time. We were open late, and closing was officially at 1 in the morning, but you stayed until the job was done. You were paid for the work, but the end time would change.
Despite being 14, I would without fail be tasked with being the last there, scrubbing all our equipment out, sweeping and mopping the floors, while the managers sat in the back doing book keeping. My mom would sit in the parking lot, waiting, knowing she also had to work in the morning, until I was allowed out. Usually this was about 2, sometimes closer to 3. I didn’t know enough to stand up for myself, and I couldn’t effectively anyway as a literal child, and nobody backed me up. I never had a closing shift where a coworker said “hey, I’ll take this one”.
So I’d get driven home and crash sometime around 3. I’d wake up three or four hours later and go to school, tired as fuck and unable to concentrate, and then go do it again that evening. I vividly remember how my hands just always smelled like onions and cleaning agent, no matter how often I washed them.
It’s nothing like what other comrades experienced here, and lasted only three months before I was fired, but I can still vividly remember how shit my first job was, and how early I learned capitalism will fuck you over.