Pay for regular employees was okay, by which I mean it was not as bad as you might expect (and considerably more for the driver, for an easier job). There was notable attention from the public, somewhere between condescending and touching, who perhaps didn't know that: the old lady who saved me a pair of jeans ("These were my son's, and I noticed yours are ripped"); the old guy that wanted us to come in for coffee; free lunch from an independent fast food place on Wednesdays.
The size of the operation marked me: the number of 14-ton capacity trucks snorting at the depot at dawn, the scale of the dump, the size of the crane fingers. The amount of garbage. Houses. Businesses. Farms.
Winter months and middle age would probably make the job less attractive but it certainly wasn't a dreadful experience.