well now then Doley bum....

(really, that isnt as funny unless you have a brain like me that sings everything, if you think of the Arctic monkeys song, Mardy bum, you'll get it. but it's not funny, because i've just explained it.... Damn!)

I just signed on for the first time EVER, ooooooooh. I'm both a little bit let down, because of the stigma of the usual locals who hang around the Job Centre and a little bit smug that I can blast the usual stereotype. The expectations in the eyes of the Personal Assistant and the security guards, ooooh, kiss my unemployed, skinny jean covered ass.

*my ponderings in no way shape or form cover every single PA or security guard or unemployed person on benefits*

[Scene] I walk down the road, lined with broken down B&B's held together by chip board and scaffolding, cross the road and past a group of flourescent jacketed builders, and yes, I did shake my hair and smile to myself / feel a bit grubby when I see them watching me walk past (must have been a slow day for creeping)

The air is grey, as is the road, the buildings, the clouds and if my mood could be colour coded, that would be grey too, the only colour around is the faded attempts at tourist-attracting signage.

So after a bit of time wasting on the prom, (I was almost an hour early)

 {I'll let you into a bit of a secret too, while I'm here, When I'm alone, like walking home or sat wasting time like today, I have a little howl into the wind, I mean I sing. Random lines of random songs}

I make my way to the dreaded Benefit interveiw.....

So, I went in, through the obligatory group of people smoking, sipping from cans, shouting at eachother, into the realm of the benefits office and am confronted by a hulk of a bouncer disguised as a civil servant (his job title is probably something like, customer welcoming and order assistant) who takes my name and tells me to go upstairs and sit on the sofa. of course, I'm ten minutes early, I've been brought up that way, but turns out, they tell you your appointment is ten minutes earlier than it actually is, so I have to wait 20 minutes, on a sofa in the middle of an office. It's like being in a zoo. But I sit there, reading the Times Education Supplement and get some funny looks while doing so, I felt like screaming...

YES, HELLO!!! I CAN READ!! GET BACK TO JUDGING PEOPLE AND ORGANISING YOUR WEEKEND.

Then I get called over by.... we shall call her Deirdre, who takes my details, asks what work I've done, my qualifications, my health.... Wait, what's that... that look on your face, dear deirdre? No, I'm not lying, why would I? yes, a clean driving license, No I wasn't KICKED out of uni and I didn't FAIL...

Yes deirdre, I can manage to apply for 6 jobs a week, it's not a problem...

6 to ten days for my first payment? wow, thanks, thats great news, Crisis loan? Um, no, I'll be ok, thanks, really, I'm pretty sure I'm not in crisis, I can still apply? oh... um.... nah your ok....

so she didn't say all of that, but you know when you can sense what a person means  or wants to say, the tilt of the head, the raised eye brow.... 


So there..... pretty painless I guess and yes, I am luckier than most, I have a lovely set of parents that are willing to keep me warm and fed and support me in my decisions, even though I have eaten 12 fish fingers and half a block of cheese in the last two days and I am totally grateful that I live in a country that can support people in a time of need, I'm not, however,  proud that people ride the system, but good lord, it sounds like it'd be pretty easy to do.

Best get back to eating my way to type 2 diabetes and filling my quota of 6 job applications for the week.

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