What would you consider the worst job in the world, and why?
You know, I used to help drag dead sea lions off the breakwall at Monterey Harbor. Some of them had been rotting for three months or more. One time, the deceased was wedged into the rocks pretty firmly, and as the boat tried to drag it free, well, the tensile strength of the double-braided nylon line surpassed that of the putrescent pinniped. The sea lion ... parted, and the aforementioned nylon line snapped back toward the boat like the inch-and-a-half-thick rubber band that it was, the after portions of the carcass flailing violently and showering the witnesses and the ground crew with unwholesome corruption that requires a trip to Lovecraft's thesaurus to properly convey.
It was still preferable to telemarketing, door-to-door sales, or political canvassing.
(I've done the last on the list. Never again.)