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I was working at a place called Mex Rock, a Mexican restaurant in a busy neighborhood of Seville, Spain.
It wasn't a good job. I was working hard in dirty dangerous conditions being exploited for just the least possible amount of money that an "explotador" was able to get away with paying. In other words, I was working in a restaurant. It was similar to jobs I'd had before, but only just slightly worse than average.
I worked with some really great people, especially the other cooks, Eugenia and Juana. Pretty amazing situation. I was working in Spanish, and going out with coworkers for late-night sessions (and I mean really late; this is Spain.) Fun times. Drinking and smoking in bars that are otherwise closed.
I pinched a nerve in my back just before I was going to quit. I had to call in a couple of days, and the boss found a replacement.