Monday 19 January 2009

Feeling Doleful


Today I made my fortnightly pilgrimage to my local job centre to sign on. Other than the accompanying dip in self-worth, these trips are generally uneventful (and that's the way I like it - who knows what kind of ruccus could occur if all us no-hopers decided to riot? Actually that could be fun - note to self: start job seeker ruccus).

But today was different from the norm. I was shaken from my characteristic sleepy ennui by a terrifying moment of clarity: I HAVE SPENT TOO LONG ON THE DOLE! The trigger for this realisation? One of the job centre's 'personal advisors' called out 'Mr Yunice?' to the assembled motley crew of dole bludgers waiting to sign on. 'I know that name from somewhere!' I thought to myself, racking my brains for an image of the aforementioned Mr Yunice - a family friend or school mate fallen on hard times perhaps? A be-tracksuited chav scuttled into sight and after recognising his pimply face, I realised where I knew him from - THE JOB CENTRE!!!!!!! Being on second-name terms with my fellow spongers just takes the biscuit and is further proof of what I already know - I NEED to get a job and fast.

Until this magical day comes, I will continue to don my Job Centre Uniform every two weeks. My job centre uniform is a highly important element in my trips to the centre, it helps me to get into character. It is composed of the following elements: baggy grey tracksuit, pyjama top, baggy jumper, old trainers topped with a trampy parka coat with fake fur hood. The hood is important, it must be worn up and erect over the head for as long as possible to achieve a cheap thrill and sense of danger.

Wearing a hood may not seem dangerous to job centre virgins but they would be wrong - the wearing of hoods inside the job centre is banned and probably illegal. Wearing one is therefore a mini rebellion and a means of baiting the burly job centre bouncers, who will inevitably trundle over and tell the hooded hoodlum 'No hoods allowed in here mate' (my job centre uniform is a little de-feminising I must admit). I find this anti-hood rule baffling; have these bouncers forgotten we're all supposed to hug a hoody??

Maybe one dole-day I will learn Mr Yunice's first name. Maybe one dole-day I will initiate some kind of verbal interaction between myself and my fellow freeloaders, rather than us all pretending to be invisible both to ourselves and to each other in a pathetic attempt to cling on to dignity. We can swap signing-on stories or discuss the terrible local jobs offered up by the job search machines (apparently the scientific term for these hunks of crap is: vacancy search terminals). Speaking of which, here's a round up of some of today's local jobs spawned up by a flirt with the terminals (I cannot promise you that these roles are still vacant, any interested party should contact their local job centre. Helpful link: http://www.jobcentreplus.gov.uk/JCP/index.html):

LOVELY LOCAL JOBS COURTESY OF MY LOVELY LOCAL JOB CENTRE*

1) Gutter cleaner
2) Santa Claus (I have a hunch this is a system error and the role may no longer be active)
3) Anti-social Behaviour Officer ("No, you cannot stay in and watch the entire box-set of Family Guy" shouted the Anti-Social Behaviour Officer to the poor couch potato)
4) Scissor lift operator (I find this mildly funny as I have no idea what it means)
5) Urgent leaflet distributor (not sure whether the post was meant to read Urgent - Leaflet distributor needed or whether you will be dealing with highly important political leaflets but given it involves working for my crummy local area, I would hazard a bet it's the former)

* Unlike journo jobs, these are paid roles and by paid I mean actual money, not magic beans.