Like most Americans, I had a variety of summer jobs as a teenager. One situation stands out more than others; it was by far the worst, and hottest.
Between 10th and 11th grade, I worked as a "grape swamper," in vineyards west of Phoenix, AZ. Swampers were the least experienced, hauling crates from the pickers (up and down the rows of grapevines) back to the packing trailer. We worked from 4AM to 1PM, when it became unbearably hot to be outside. I used to tell people that the best part of living in Phoenix is that when you die and go to hell, it will be 10 degrees cooler when you get there.