I signed myself off the dole today.
Consequently, I’m no longer using the job centre, am no longer on the New Deal, and do not have a course that even the dole lady admitted ‘you’re doing everything we told you’ looming over me.
I wouldn’t be lying if I said that my feelings of frustration and low lying anger, which were boiling up inside of me like a-about-to-explode kettle over a few weeks weren’t just leading me up to this moment. Now all I feel is relief.
I’m not going to bore you with a blow-by-blow analysis of what led to my decision to say ‘bugger off’ to this kafka-esque government office, but I think you can tell that there is certainly no love lost between us. Essentially, them deciding that I was earning ‘too much’ in a part time job, despite working within the 16 hour limit (you can claim dole and work up to 16 hours a week, for the record, my hours rarely extended over double-digits), trying to make out that I couldn’t travel to Holland for an interview, being patronising, and taking 4 months to sort out a query (among others), has influenced my decision.
In truth, Job Centre Plus have not helped me at all. Not one bit. Nada. The money helped, but I never found a job through them. Every interview I went along to was done without any input by anyone in their offices, yet I got the impression that they expected me to appreciate them not getting reimbursed for an interview because I ‘hadn’t told them’, when I had mentioned it every fortnight for three months.
There are only 2 jobs I can credit their input for. One was a role that didn’t get me excited, but helped along the way. The other role they recommended for me was being a trolley dolly on a train. Now, pushing a trolley on a train and dolling out drinks is a job that at least allows you to travel about a bit (at least, when the train is not trapped behind a cow which is walking on the wrong kind of leaves), but why on earth they thought that was a good choice for me on the New Deal, is beyond me.
Alongside this, I have spent the past few weeks feeling pretty low. I didn’t realise just how low my moods were dipping until last weekend, when I was dreading signing on to the point where I wasn’t sleeping all that soundly. My self confidence isn’t known for it’s buoyancy, but today a great lift was lifted off my shoulders. I actually wanted to leave there with a song playing in the background on some speakers. If I watch it as a movie back in my head, I see it with the music of ‘Born Free’ or ‘I want to Break Free’, playing deafeningly over a slow motion sequence as the credits role. Any other suggestions for music will be gratefully recieved and found on blip.fm or spotify for me to party to.
My complaints sound like I never needed to go on the dole, but I did. I had no job after christmas, and had little in the way of funds after University. The dole meant I could at least pay my own way in the house, and at least gave me a feeling of independence. Furthermore, I am not a spoilt brat. I know that I am lucky-my family has agreed to chip in to help alongside my part time job, a state of affairs that I am very grateful for.
I have nothing against the employees of the dole offices. After years of working with customers, I know that there are few things, if any, you can change directly when you are dealing with the general public. Even then, you are not in any position to provide suggestions for the service you provide unless something rare and surprising comes up.
I will say this about the Job Centre-it needs to change. The job centre has to realise that a very broad one-situation-reflects-all policy does not help those who do not fit into a specific category.
Now, in other news, I’m watching that documentary about Spanish Flu that was lurking on BBC4 a few nights ago. Needless to say, it’s brilliantly acted and well researched (if my dissertation hadn’t been on Cornish Miners, I probably would have done Spanish Flu), but I know that there will be a few dreams of people dying horribly popping up over the next month or so. This is not something to watch before bed.
