I was 14 and the county agent had recruited several teens to plant trees for a Christmas tree farm. It was top pay at $5 an hour which sounded like a big deal to my dumb ass when minimum wage was $3.35. I was the youngest in the group.
We get there and the job seems easy. Each sapling was only about 9 inches, and you poked a hole in the ground with your finger, moved 3 feet and repeat.
After 8 hours of that, my back was killing me and my knees hurt from crawling in my jeans were soaked at the knees from the mud, but I knew my parents wouldn't let me quit.
I showed up the the next week, the group working was half and the following week it was just me. The job was only on Saturdays and after about 6 weeks, I finally convinced my parents to let me quit. That job was lonely and I have no idea what the real purpose planting those saplings served. It must have been a front for something, but I have no idea what it was. Forty years later, only a few of those trees grew up and the place never became a Christmas tree farm between then and now.
The main thing I learned from that job was that manual labor was not for me and to be careful about what kind of work you agree to get into. It's probably a lot harder than it sounds.