I once had a job for 43 minutes.
The listing at the job bank said it was for some kind of general factory work.
I arrived at the warehouse just before eleven and after filling in some paperwork, I officially started my shift at 11:17 am that day.
I was told to stand in front of a freight elevator with my new co-worker. The floor around us had sawdust scattered about. At this point, I had no idea what my new job was.
Soon the elevator doors opened up and inside was a huge roll of white paper – like a cashier's receipt roll but seven feet high.
Our job was exactly this; we had to move this gigantic paper roll out of the elevator and onto a small loose tile of wood. Once it was delicately balanced on this thin wood square, we had to pivot this gigantic paper roll 90 degrees so we could frantically roll the paper down to the storage space which was about 30 yards away.
Then we rushed back to the elevator in anticipation of the next roll which came very soon after.
Moving huge cylinders of paper from one spot to another was now my life. This was the entirety of my existence for 43 minutes until I heard a loud shrill sound.
I asked the guy what that sound was and he told me that it was the lunch alarm.
Everyone at this place took lunch at the exact same time. My co-worker ran off to the lunchroom and I slowly walked away from the freight elevator, towards the front doors.
I kept walking away from the factory and never came back.
About three weeks later, I received a check for my 43 minutes of work.