Paperjam

Letter from..... the Job Centre

Rant // Vanessa // 15th March 2004

I was refused a job today. And to make it worse I had to drag my arse out of bed to attend an induction for self help modules organised by the Job Centre so I can get a job.

Let me set the scene. After arguing all the way to Chelmsford with husband (who out of being horribly unemployed is again frustrated), we find ourselves sat in a cold room with 10 other men. Note they are all men. No women. All are sat there with long faces, a cup of disgusting coffee courtesy of the training centre, all thinking this is a complete waste of time. They were almost right. Our Jobsearch Tutor, let's call him Englebert, stands in front of his class, switches on the overhead projector and flips over a sheet of A3 on one of those pretend blackboards which is actually a big A3 pad on a tripod stand.

On this sheet of A3 are written three names. His name, Englebert, the name of the marketing person and some other person who we'll probably never see or speak to, but should know the name of. He repeats the introductions several times just in case we unemployed scum are so braindead that we need this useless bit of information drummed into us. And then he starts with the overhead. By this time we have been in the room half an hour. In 30 long long minutes, we have managed to learn his name, Englebert opened and shut the window twice...and asked me if we should keep it open. Excuse me, but isn't it the middle of winter, and isn't it blowing a gale outside? Well then yes, keep the bloody thing shut!

By this time, Gazza darling is taking on the look of a psychomaniac and I have developed a nervous twitch and can t resist the urge to keep scratching my head, neck, legs, actually, any part of my body (almost), just to keep myself occupied. Englebert has moved on to the overhead. Instead of talking to us about what we will gain from being there on a Monday morning when we could be fine tuning our unemployed status by watching Fern being regressed on This Morning, he tells us to introduce ourselves. On the overhead are pointers in case we forget that we are supposed to say our name, where we are from, what job we did do and what job we want. But the best part is telling the dumbstruck group our hobbies and interests. Since no one wanted to start, or do the stupid, childish thing at all, Gazza darling decided to put everyone out of their misery and start. In monotone he said: " Hello, my name is Garry Moon and I used to conduct international drug trials that studied the cognitive side effects of pharmaceutical drugs". Silence. "Oh, and my interest is finding a job". Silence. Next. Englebert seemed to take pleasure in forcing these poor men to talk about their hobbies which are totally irrelevant as the only thing on everyone's minds was to find a job so we can actually take part in these hobbies. Like one guy said, "I like to ski, but I can't as I haven't got any money. I like to go swimming, but I can't because I haven't got any money. I like to go drinking, but I can't as I haven't got any money". Enough said.

In the next three hours, we learned all about the company's health and safety procedure, where to find the fire extinguishers (which we don't have to use because the staff will save the day), that we have to book use of the internet, but we don't have to if it is free, the equal opportunities policy and how to make a complaint. Actually, that one might come in handy. The highlight of the morning were the chocolate croissants and pastries we scummy unemployed were treated to, to go with the horrid coffee.

The entire morning wasn't a complete waste of time though. Scummy unemployed people get some pretty good perks you know. I may even consider making a career out of it. I can get a £200+ computer course for free, exams and all with a recognised certificate, use of college sports and library facilities for enrolling for £8, travel expenses to the training centre where I have now signed up for a skills and strengths module and a how to fill out your application form module. Next week I'm doing interview skills parts one and two. What a social calendar. How will I cope?!

On a serious note, the only thing keeping me from feeling sorry for myself now, (I was so pathetically feeling sorry for myself for the whole of last week that I watched Love Story just so I had an excuse to cry), are the stories of the other people on the induction. One guy's mum had just died and he now had to find a job after being her full time carer for years. Another guy, in his 50s, was made redundant 10 days ago after working for 30 years for a large computer company, another wouldn't say because he was a "private person" , another guy made redundant from a computer firm and he was only my age. Another guy who looked younger than me who was made redundant and was also diagnosed with diabetes two weeks ago. Makes mine and Gazza's situation seem simply rosy. At least we weren't forced into unemployment, we brought that on ourselves when we decided to go gallivanting a round the world skydiving, scuba diving and basically living a wonderful life for 11 months.

So I have decided to be more positive from now on. So what if those prats at the council couldn't recognise my obvious PR skills? I'm going to do a free computer course and become a wiz with technology. Then again, maybe not. Til next time x