[ I started out working at a small lumber mill. At that time just about anyone who had worked in a mill for more than a few years was missing at the least a couple of fingers. The fortunate one like myself had close calls where we left with only scars to remind us to be more careful. ]
I grew up on a farm, working at McDonalds was like moving from a dynomite factory to a job as a pillow tester.
I would prefer robots. At least they wouldn’t spit in the food, or need to wipe the boogers off their fingers, or need to wash their hands after visits to the toilet, or worse.
I grew up on acreage... my dad still has beef cattle. You are absolutely right! We were always getting hurt doing something; mostly not directly work related. Fortunately, my mother was a nurse which cut down on emergency visits to the doctor greatly.
I remember when I was about ten; we would tell my dad we were going to use some gasoline to burn up ant piles. His only concern was that we didn’t waste any of it.