Hell yes. I made ends meet my sophomore year in college by working swing shift at 7-11. After watching three hours of VHS tapes about what to do in the event of a robbery, I discovered that the lion's share of my work day dealt with selling scratch tickets to gambling addicts and changing out scorched irish-creme-flavored coffee. One fine evening I made the mistake of opening a magazine and reading it between 2am and 3am. A week later I was called on the carpet. The owner had been reviewing the surveillance tapes and had noticed that I was committing the cardinal sin of reading. "Instead of what?" I said. "Instead of straightening out the store," he said. "I did that at ten, at midnight, at one and at two," I said. "Then what's the problem with doing it at two thirty?" he replied. Faced with impeccable logic, I informed him that I wasn't interested in making $11 an hour to endlessly tidy a 7-11 so poorly managed during the day that the back shelves still had Crystal Pepsi in 1996. There were zero consequences from my decision as three months later I changed cities and spent the next three years mixing bands in clubs for money. I also resigned with less than a day's notice from a rather terrible bioengineering firm with a nine-person engineering team, of which I, the "intern," was one of two with an actual engineering degree.