My first job was as a food runner/bus boy for a busy concert-oriented restaurant. The kitchen was upstairs in order to make room for the seating area and stage. So I had to take big platters of up to 7 dishes down two flights of stairs during the service hours. Service was supposed to be a maximum of three hours, though, so it wasn't too awful. The earliest dinner was at 5:30 and the show always started at 8:30, at which point the kitchen was closed and only deserts would make it out.
Thinking about this reminded me of a funny story: the kitchen expediter had a bell (the type you see at a service desk to ring when you want help) to ring when she needed a runner to come get food. A coworker of mine, I guess, thought it'd be funny to hide the bell. In hindsight, maybe he thought it was degrading to be rung at. Not sure what he thought would happen, but I was basically rushed the next day to go find and buy a bell to replace the missing one, because it was apparently super important. I ran into that same coworker that hid the bell while I was rushing to find a replacement. He was nice enough to lend me his bike for me to go buy a new one.
Man, those were some nice days. Easy work, fun people, summer time. My boss really hated me though, lol.