Tag Archives: jobless

The Jobcentre from 2008 to 2018 – the view from the shop floor.

It was astounding how much the Jobcentre had changed.

When I was first unemployed a decade ago, following graduation in the summer of 2008, the queue usually went out of the entrance.

Today there was only one person in front of me with sleeves of tattoos, ripped jeans and a cap. He was sent downstairs to the long-term unemployed section. I had been there for one appointment before I finally got work. That is where you go when you have been down and out for more than six months. It is like going down into hell, a pit of despair and depression with “customers” who look like they gave up on life a long time ago.

Today was my first appointment at Jobcentre Plus plc. Hopefully my one and only, I thought, as I scanned those waiting. They were all on their phones with the exception of one young guy who had his headphones on. There was a chair for everyone today, I had never seen the Jobcentre this quiet. Five years ago in 2013, there were always people milling around the lobby as there weren’t enough seats to go round. There would be maybe 30 people waiting. Today there were probably about 8. The Jobcentre is a micro snapshot of our economy. From where I was sitting, the economy had never been so strong.

There were two mothers with prams and I was soothed by a babbling baby as I read a book about the experience of flying by a pilot. It was a thought-provoking and I was able to get absorbed.

I lost track of time but I must have been waiting at least 20 minutes. The advisor apologised. He was clearly rushing because he was behind, but he couldn’t do enough to help. He said that I needed to come to the office with more paperwork about my savings and that because of these, I would get around £20 per week to live on. I am not going to spend it though because that is for my future. I did not work and save for five years just to spend it all in hard times. There was hardly any point in going through the long, painful and irritating process for £20 a week. But at least it was something, beggars can’t be choosers.

In 2008 when I was claiming unemployment benefit, all you had to do was sign a piece of paper. When I brought in evidence of work the advisor smiled and said “it’s ok love, I don’t need to see that, just come back in two weeks”. Those were the days when you were trusted to get on with it without being pushed. It was relaxed and painless. In 2011 I was bounced back to the dole after a temporary job ended and I was told I would need to bring evidence of job searching every two weeks. That was no problem. Then I was told I needed to fill in a booklet instead. When I saw them two weeks later I’d finished the booklet with evidence of job searches and applications and asked for another. You should’ve seen the look on the advisor’s face.

Flash forward to 2018 and I have been asked to “follow the Jobcentre on Twitter” and “publish your jobseeker status on social media”. I have already broadcast my embarrassing job status on that I told him. I also said I thought Twitter was for twits and didn’t use it on principle, but he told me that that was actually how people got work these days. I was stunned. So in 2018, not only do I have to presumably show evidence of looking for work every two weeks, probably attend job skills workshops every month, register to their “job match” service, sign multiple times and in exactly the same way on a digital machine every two weeks, I now have to join the Twitter twits and “follow” companies. Then I have to sign a legally-binding contract agreeing to all that or I don’t get a penny. Next they’ll be telling me to “like” the Jobcentre on Facebook.

Someone give me a job. Fast.

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Unemployed…again.

“The-greatest-teacher-failure-is.”-Master-Yoda-Star-Wars

Since my last blog post, my life has changed completely.

In November 2017 I decided to apply to do a postgraduate nursing diploma. I had spent years working my way up to a well-paid steady job as a civil servant. But I wanted to have a job where I could help people. It was a gamble but it was the last year of the bursary – it was now or never.

“My bursary was £450 and rent is £380 – all activities were limited by my budget.”

I am no longer on the course but I hope that I can start again, because I really enjoyed both the academic and practical aspects of the course. It involved military discipline and if I wasn’t passionate about nursing I wouldn’t have managed it. I woke up at 6am to go to placement, got back at 5 or 6pm, ate a sandwich for dinner and then wrote a 6 000 word essay in the library until it shut at 9pm…for over a month.

My bursary was £450 and rent is £380, so all activities were limited by my budget, even food shopping. Gone were my flights of fancy at Waitrose. Now it was Aldi or Co-Op basics. The 30p bag of pasta and the £1 jar of pesto with some defrosted peas or carrots became my go-to meal.

Despite the long hours and low budget, patients kept me strong, smiling and focused and made the experience enjoyable. Being able to provide care was a privilege and gave me a deep sense of contentment.

It made me realise that caring for others is not just what I do, it is a fundamental part of who I am. It gives my life more meaning and purpose.

This is why I volunteered to help at a Dementia Cafe with a wedding theme this week. I immersed myself in the experience, from blowing up confetti balloons to hearing people’s life stories. It was a welcome relief from the stress of feeling lost, confused and worrying about the future.

If I don’t get another chance, what am I going to do?!

Things couldn’t be tougher. The intense combination of university and placement have been replaced by throwing myself at the job market. My bursary has been stopped but I still need to pay the rent. I have already had to endure two consecutive days of rejections from two job agencies.

“I didn’t get off the sofa most days.”

If I don’t find work in June, I will be forced to give up my independence and move back in with my parents. My housemate couldn’t believe it. “I love living with you” she said, “please don’t move out.”

I never thought I would be in this position again. It has been two weeks so far. The first week I was an emotional wreck and I came down with a sore throat and a cold. Exhausted and drained both physically and emotionally, I didn’t get off the sofa most days, crying, blowing my nose through a full loo roll and watching TV. I didn’t have the energy for anything else.

But when you’re at your lowest, you realise how lucky you are to have so many good people around you. Everyone gave their time to listen, offer advice, meals, and a shoulder to cry on. With their support my week gradually improved, and I was able to focus instead on my birthday celebrations.

I have already tried to get care work but sadly it wasn’t possible. I have no formal qualifications in it (despite years of experience) and I can’t afford a car.

Success-is-not-final-failure-is-not-fatal_-it-is-the-courage-to-continue-that-counts.-624x624

A few days ago I decided it was time to stop crying and get off the sofa. Partly because I had watched everything remotely interesting on TV catchup, from the BBC to More4 and ITV. There was only dreary daytime TV left.

I started by creating a more positive and restful environment. I tidied, cleaned and hoovered the house. The saying “clean space, clear mind” is confirmed by research showing that messy rooms cause excess cortisol production and can be distracting for the brain.

I then began a Post-It Power Plan, where I brainstormed ideas to find a way forward. It was a good method to get some clarity in the chaos.

I am either too qualified or too unqualified – I am stuck in Catch 22 limbo.

Yesterday my job mission continued. I rang up three job agencies and applied for admin work online. So far I have been turned down by two job agencies on the basis that although I have experience, it is not recent enough. This is a new level of competition compared to the “you don’t have enough experience” response when I was last unemployed some five years ago.

But persistence is key if you are to break through the increasingly reinforced walls of the current job market. The next day I ramped up the pressure by going in person to other job agencies with my CV and even going into various businesses with it. It is always more effective going to a job agency in person than contacting them by telephone or email. In person they can practically smell your desperation as you offer to give their employers your time on any basis, working for any pay and at any level, as you hand them your CV, your passport, your CRB certificate and your dignity. They can see that you’re tired from walking around all afternoon in the pouring rain in your business power dress.

Next week I am going to a job fair where up to 25 companies will be hiring and I will be spamming companies with CVs. By the time I’ve finished, I will be surprised if there is a business in the city that has not heard of me. Short of walking around with a billboard strapped to me, reading “AVAILABLE FOR WORK NOW” and my phone number, there isn’t much more I can do.

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I now have a busy week of job-hunting to look forward to next week. I have signed up with one agency and I have an appointment with another next week. I also have an appointment for Jobseekers Allowance. I am dreading going back to this handout again, it is so shameful that at my age and with my experience I will now have to sign up to weekly harassment involving job skills workshops, when I got a first in a careers development module at university. I know how to gain employment. The problem is that I am either too overqualified, or too underqualified – I am stuck in Catch 22 limbo.

I was in this desperate position when I started this blog in 2013. The blogging community spurred me on and eventually my documented struggle to find employment attracted over a thousand views a month from all over the world.

If you are in the same boat and you are struggling to keep your head above water, read this article about the importance of learning from failure and being patient until you succeed.

henryford1-2x

 

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Filed under Jobhunting, Life of Lydia, Uncategorized

Pole dancing – beautiful art or seedy sexiness?

Have you ever applied for a job you wouldn’t normally consider if you were in work?

Recently in my desperation I was considering pole dancing. I saw a documentary on it on the BBC a while back and it didn’t have to involve any contact.

Then it showed the luxurious lifestyles of the dancers, and described how they earn £80+ an hour. Now when you’re looking at a series of jobs at minimum wage or £7, the hourly wage of a dancer could look almost as tempting to a woman as they might to their drooling onlookers.

I’d like to see more male pole dancers – why aren’t male strip clubs more common? 156989317

Last time I was desperately jobseeking (recession, July 2008) I resorted to door-to-door sales. I was working alone, doing 12 hours shifts on commission only. A colleague had numerous experiences of harassment, abuse and downright creepiness. Luckily I just got kindly folks inviting me in for a chat and sometimes (thankfully) a cuppa. I may do a separate post on this, let me know if you’d like to hear about it, or your experience of it.

The reality of the job is quite different to this picture

The reality of the job is quite different to this picture

Last week I nearly applied for a pot washing job. The total 2 hour walking distance from my house put me off, as there was no public transport link. I think I’ll have a separate chat about bus “services”.

This week I’ve reached my final bastion of desperation. I applied for a life modelling job.

That’s right, I’m now so fed up of bouncing between short term work and unemployment that I’m prepared to get my kit off for money. I hope the artists see me as a collection of forms, line and shadow.  Ok, the money’s about 8 times less than

timthumba dancer’s, but I would be naked for the sake of art, so it seems acceptable to me. Only artists could see me and not anyone who wants to. I would feel like I was selling my soul pole dancing. Dancers call it art, and “beautiful”. In a  BBC 1Xtra interview a dancer doesn’t think it’s seedy, but I can’t see how making money by arousing sexual interest isn’t, no matter how graceful her moves are. I’d be curious to see what their lives are like. May buy a book on it. 

I still think pole dancing is seedy when done for cash, as opposed to beautiful. Beautiful to me is Grace Kelly.

She was graceful and modest. Without modest dress I think you're sexy and hot rather than beautiful.

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February 6, 2013 · 10:32 pm