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. 
I’ve volunteered to do org work for the unhoused.
Being untrained as an orderly and trying to pull an old man having a seizure out of a bus while his limbs were each individually fighting me and my team was unforgettable.
I didn’t know his full medical condition and perhaps never will, but all he wanted when he came to and was hydrated enough to be stable was his pineapple-shaped plastic drinking vessel which still reeked of the little bit of booze still sloshing in it. Fuck it, I gave it back and lied about its contents because he had gone through enough.
I’m drifting off of my own topic, but that reminds me of one more moment. One unhoused woman cried, I mean wailed, because I actually stopped and listened to her while working for the same org and gave her an extra pair of socks and helped her fill out some replacement paperwork for what had been destroyed by some fratboy assholes that wrecked her shopping cart and left her and her stuff stranded when she couldn’t drag it any farther. To paraphrase what she said that night, she said that was the first time she felt human in a while.