My dad is a doctor. When I was 11, I worked in his practice in the medical records department, pulling charts for patient appointments (not just for him, but for 5-10 other doctors as well) and filing them again afterwards. On my lunch break I would read trashy romance novels that my chubby, middle-aged coworkers left in the lunchroom.

I'm pretty sure I made minimum wage. I was proud of my job though, and very conscientious.

I was also a fiend for any kind of household-chores-for-pay. I would pull weeds at $0.01 per weed. And yes, my dad would sit there and count each little weed before paying me, emptying a big garbage bag full of them on the cement driveway and counting them off one by one.