Ohhhh... the time I nearly lost my last marble... piecework, from home.
It was decidedly dodgy I think too.. but anyway, we were putting the strings through the plastic JD Sports bags.
You got boxes of bags, boxes of strings, and a metal doodar to shove string through the channel at the top of each side of the bag, then knot it, seal knot with a lighter.
It sounded great, but in fact to do enough to earn anything, you had to work at a backbreaking, mind melting rate. My kitchen was rammed with boxes, my fingers were bleeding after the first hour, I also developed a dry socket following a molar extraction two days in.
So there I am, in extreme pain, with a mountain of boxes, bleeding fingers (so wiping them before each bag to stop them bleeding on the bags, plasters were no go they left sticky bits on the bags and slowed things down), desperate to stop... get pain relief... anything..
The man coming to collect the boxes would not pay out on a box if it was not full, and if you didn't do the boxes you'd agreed to do there'd be some other penalty, I forget what.
That night with more boxes than I could possibly do left over, I accidentally nearly offed myself - my gum was now spitting out shards of broken jaw bone from around the socket, I wanted to shoot myself. I downed enough ibuprofen and paracetamol to kill a horse and washed it down with quite a lot of vodka... came close to ambulance time but the lass at 111 finally thought to ask my weight.. and fortunately I was fat enough that i'd NOT taken an OD.. just!
I recall bashing my head against a wall hoping it would be better than the pain I was in from both hands and face!
I suspect my mental health wasn't at its most stable either... I did get paid (friends came and helped with the last box) but never again...