This is your life......I'm just off to chat to Graham

I don't by any means think that people in any working environment should be bound by ridiculous red tape that insults common sense and patronises them with pointless rules and restrictions.

But.

But....

When you work face-to-face with the general public in the DWP, I think there should be some sense that you're not discussing why their shopping didn't arrive on time or talking them through an instruction manual. 

You're dealing with sensitive issues relating to their everyday situations. Namely, money and personal circumstances, etc. etc. This is a massive deal to them - this is their lives. So, surely there should be some level of attentiveness and sensitivity adopted by people who work in this role, just so they are at least pretending they are listening and helping, even if they aren't? 

I know they deal with people and hear the same old stories every day, but this shouldn't make a difference to their work ethic and the way they approach their jobs. I've met two people so far in my dole adventures who have this attitude, so I know it's possible.

This thought was provoked by something that happened this evening.

Today, I had a second job interview, a callback after a first round last week. It was pretty tough and lasted for an hour and a half, I had a headache, the rain was battering down and it was cold. Basically, I was feeling sorry for myself and a bit short on patience. But I knew I had to go to the main lair of civil servant-ry, Manchester's Number One First Street.

Oh yes, it's called Number One First Street, the new-ish headquarters of Manchester City Council. "One" an attempt for the council to show they are number one at everything, failing that, that they are "First" at everything, they are just so damn GREAT, both numerically and in the cardinal sense.

Anyway, I had to go as I was fed up of them losing things I gave them, then calling them up to ask if why my applications were being delayed and if they needed any further paperwork. Apparently, they needed proof that I have no more than one bank account and no savings I could live off. Hmm. How do you prove that? fancy sifting through my offshore bank accounts?

I turned up with a copy of my latest bank statement, only the last page. The rest, as sad and sparse as it was, is not their business (right?)

Anyway, I mentally prepared myself as well as I could after the job interview, then went inside No#1 First Street, yeeeah.

Impressed?

Walking in, I was surprised by how shiny and elite it looked. Not a povvo in sight! Unfortunately, I had walked into the normal person's entrance - it seems the building is also occupied by banks and businesses.

A woman in a suit and shiny lipstick looked at me with pity and said "Please use the entrance around the corner". Oh. Number two second street?

I then found the right place, ah! People queuing at pedestals with civil servants doing *cough* other things that they need to be doing before they deal with the people right in front of them. Everything taking three times as long as usual...bingo. 

Overall, I was waiting for somewhere between five and ten minutes. Then, a boy with spots and a suit slightly too big for him (not discrimination - just observation), sent me to a booth with a woman sitting at it. 

I sat down. I said:

"Hello, I received a phone call from someone yesterday, saying that you can't process my claim for housing benefit until I bring in a copy of my latest bank statement. I thought I would bring it here myself instead of going to the library to submit it, as some of my paperwork has been lost in the last couple of weeks and I could do with it being processed as soon as possible really. Can I give you this statement?" 

Then, I noticed she was zoned out. Her eyes were looking over my head. She sensed I'd finished talking, snapped back into consciousness and re-focused her gaze. After a little pause, she said:

"I'm sorry, can I just ask, where do you get your hair done? Is that your normal hair? It's lovely! It really goes with your eyes and skin."

Don't mind me!

TEN MINUTES later, she managed to finish photocopying ONE piece of paper. In between, she wandered off to someone called Graham* and had a bit of a chat.

When she handed me my statement back, she said "that's all OK now".

No information about when they might process my forms, when I might expect to receive the housing benefit I had applied for on 2nd November. Nah, who needs boring details like that, anyway?!?!

Following this, I escaped the rain, collapsed into Cornerhouse and invested a few quid in a FUCKING. MASSIVE. GLASS. OF. RED. WINE.

Thankfully, a friend (also unemployed), called me and cycled over so we could compare notes and watch people walk past in the rain. Because that's what you do when you're unemployed and waiting for the council to one simple thing. For a month. 

We then did the crossword (free) in the "i" newspaper (20p), before going to Wetherspoons and buying a half of lager for £1. 

I'm learning a lot about the art of dole-ing, which is what it turns into when the council takes this long to do the slightest thing. 

Just off to chat to Graham*, I won't be back any time soon.

YAC.

*I may have changed this name to protect Graham. 

How Can THAT be good??

There has to be something good about everything that happens in life, even the God-awful, absolutely crap, I'm-off-to-make-a-noose occurrences.

Being on the dole is bad. According to everyone, ever. Actually, I'm not technically on the dole myself, as I haven't received anything at all yet.

This is because everything takes three times as long at the Jobcentre as it does in the normal world/private sector. This is an algorithm I worked out while waiting on the sofa for half an hour for a timed appointment I'd been given with an 'advisor'.

Do you remember that bit in 'Lord of the Rings' where Gandalf goes from being grey to being bright white? It wasn't because he battled with an horrific demonic being in the depths of hell after being ripped off the Bridge of Khazad-dum. 

    

          Looking ace - has job

It was because, after years of college courses and working his fingers to the bone to become a bad-ass wizard, he found himself unemployed and had no choice but to apply for jobseekers allowance. 

He waited with the utmost patience and politeness for it to come through and gritted his teeth as he tolerated every instance of misinformation, false hope and delays. His phone bill shot through the roof of his cottage, due to the number of phone calls to helplines he was told to make, only to be kept on hold for half an hour each time. This is what it did to him. 

"I'll bet he's on the dole"

Anyway, the point is, there are some pros to being unemployed, if you look for them hard enough. Here are mine:

You have time for things (if you focus on making time for things).

DIY - come on, everyone's tiles need a grout.

Creativity - what better time to make that potato-print tablecloth/sock puppet/tea cozy?

Self-training - Use the internet to teach yourself something useful - the basics of another language, how to use Photoshop, web development/coding, sign language, use your imagination....

Reading books - lots of time for this - also makes one's brain fatter.

Reading newspapers - now you can get political. And do sudoku.

Cookery - There are some excellent cakes hiding from you, make them happen.

Health - This can go either way, but trying easy/free stuff like jogging and online exercise tutorials could ensure you don't physically grow into the sofa.

Looks good, probably isn't

College courses - There are some you can get for free. Allegedly. Ask the Jobcentre. Maybe not. Look at Gandalf the White. Enquire at your own risk.

Clear out - Come on, be honest and ruthless. Instead of tripping over that cardboard box at the side of your bed every morning, just tip it all into the bin. Similarly with clothes - when did you last wear the puffball skirt that takes up half of the wardrobe?

Cycle - The cost of a bike - and you could probably get one for free somewhere if you try hard enough - is very much worth the fun of whizzing about on it.

Write/blog - come on, everyone wants to know what you think! Yes, they do. Right.....?

Signing (on),

YAC.

26p Karma Came Around - A Job Interview!

Following this incident yesterday, I received a phone call today in response to this job that my stand-in Jobcentre advisor gently 'made' me a apply for over a week ago. It was my first proper 'job hunt' with an advisor (it involved a rushed, light glance over some roles I could vaguely do and two presses of the 'print' button).

Obviously, I thought there was no chance of a response by this point. However, I was wrong and I have been invited for an interview on Tuesday for the role of marketing coordinator.

Oh dear. I'm glad of this opportunity, but unfortunately I have a simultaneous feeling that it's not really 'me', as a friend of mine put it. It's not the field I want to be in, although it's one I may just barely be capable of.

But when you have to pay for bills, rent, council tax, food, broadband, contact lenses, gym membership and Christmas and you have a man asking you every week or so what you've been doing with all of your time, I guess that what you want and what you need are two very different things.

Wish me luck! And thanks to the karma charity bucket in the ASDA.

YAC.

The 26p Challenge!

Reading over my own blog today, I became aware that unemployment is turning me into what can only be described as miserable, antisocial, hermit-y git. 

I admit that naturally, I am a bit of a pessimist - I mean, it's a practical approach to life as, when things do go right, it's always a nice surprise - what's not to love?

But, my usual employed, busy self is a jovial pessimist, if anything, with a silly, daydream-y brain. I love wandering about, seeing what I can see, meeting new people and spotting cool stuff.

But, almost six weeks at home avoiding shops, friends and anything that costs something (everything, then) has dampened my enthusiasm for the basics. I even decided not to answer the door twice today, as well as the telephone a couple of times. I couldn't bring myself to make the effort to have a conversation! The red lights are flashing.

So, I set myself a challenge today. On the way out of Longsight Library, I decided to search my pockets for money. I had exactly 26p. With a massive ASDA next door, I wondered, what could I buy for 26p? Anything? Nothing?

I know you are all dying to find out. 

No strategic 'big 5' selection process involved - it was just next door

I went into said cathedral of family-friendly purchases and started in the homeware section. You can buy nothing for 26 pence in the homeware section. Strange...

Moving on. I entered the fresh baked goods aisle, thinking I may be in line for a 'whoops!' sticker bonanza.

Nothing greeted me on the 'rancid/broken' rack, except for a packet of crumbling pitta breads for 57p. Try again, discounters, not good enough.

I then explored the branded baked goods aisle. Surely an own-brand goody or two may have been in order here? No!The absolute bog standard 'cake' of any description was a packet of sad apple pies which exceeded the 26p limit.

Moving on in the direction of condiments, I was sure there would be something here to fit the bill. Success! A large Smartprice glass bottle of tomato sauce costs 24p! The first potential purchase discovered. 

However, this was no good to me, as I hate tomato sauce, with its no-tomatoes-but-tonnes-of-sugar smell and sickening, runny consistency. Call me fussy, but that is rank. But, surely the brown sauce would be of equal worth? Alas, no! The same quantity and brand cost 30p! Scandal! But proof that brown is much classier than red every time. 

                                

                                            30p - no!

          

        Tomato-flavoured victory - with 2p to spare

Condiments threw up another couple of possibles. Smartprice dried mixed herbs and ground black pepper both clocked in at 19p each for a little jar.

Now....what shall I sprinkle on it?

Another industrious region of supermarket country that you would probably expect to be a cheapo's goldmine would be sweets. And, thank God, you'd be right. 


One Flump, a Freddo, a packet of mini smarties, a refresher bar and a Vimto bar all flew the flag, each coming in under 26p. No wonder we love these things from childhood right through to coming-of-dole-age.

A childhood friend of mine, however, let me down. A Curly Wurly cost 27p! So close, but yet so far. I could almost feel its fancy chocolatey latticework crumbling between my teeth. But it was not meant to be.

CURLY WURLY SAYS NO!

When it comes to a nice hot drink to go with your sweets, the news is not good. None of the components of a good old English cup of tea can be purchased with 26p. A pint of milk costs 49p and a pack of Smartprice tea bags 27p! Just one penny from success, sigh.

However. You can buy a biscuit!

There's always something missing

Smartprice Rich Tea biscuits cost 23p. Nice, nice. However, these are the only scraping-the-barrel biscuits I could have walked away with on this budget. A ginger nut? No - 3p short! How about a bourbon cream? You're just a dreamer, you crazy fool (40p).

In the baking aisle, there were some pleasant surprises.

A packet of batter mix was priced at 7p. This is a special kind of bargain that deserves a high-five.

Three packets would cost 21p. Think of the possibilities

                        

     

OR, about 30 pancakes. 

Or, three packets would probably allow you to wallpaper the interior of a stately home. 

Failing that, you could make a huge, beautiful toad-in-the-hole. Minus the toad. Desirable side-effect - you could claim to be a responsible vegetarian or a health nut.

If you can overlook the toad, the hole could be quite something!

                                   
Next up on my 26p-and-under radar was a box of Smartprice sage and onion stuffing mix.

A nutritious meal

This would set you back back a whopping 19p. The remaining 7p, however, would fail to buy you the accompanying chicken. In fact, you may not even glean a gravy granule.

A packet of strawberry whip had a 12p price tag - this could just pass as a full meal. And, with enough money in my pocket for two packs, things really could have taken off. Surely great for the health too...?

The 26p diet gained me this bod

Speaking of which - ASDA was asking 19p per packet of its dried pasta sauces, one such example being cheese and broccoli. Hmm, is there really any broccoli in there? Maybe. But, there's no hydrogenated fat! Which apparently is an achievement worth slapping on the front page. 

If you re-add the hydrogenated fat, would that make it cheaper?

Next up was something that every single student, artist, skint person and traveller knows without even thinking. A packet of noodles is the easiest, most filling, comforting bit of cheap food you can buy in any situation, at any time across the planet.

Smartprice noodles = 11p. This would have been the best-informed option. I could have fed myself for 2 days with this. But that would have been too easy, so I sailed off into the next aisle.

Here, a potentially genius idea greeted me - pickled onions! These remind me of 1.) My sister (who ate them from the jar with a fork when I was a kid 2.) Parties - on a stick with a square of cheese stuck into a tinfoil 'hedgehog'. 3.) Posh cocktails. That is some great imagery and it could count as a couple of dinners. However, the option was snatched away by the 31p price tag. 

Viable as a nice dinner - but not within budget :(

However, a nice little touch was that, for the sick and infirm and those recovering from operations, or those who survive on drinking spirits and eating fags, a bottle of Smartprice lemonade cost just 19p!

For those on liquid diets or eating through straws

Venturing into the Arctic, the fridge region did not have much in the way of 26p, which is more of a comfort than anything. Although I'm sure, in my student years, a packet of round-spam-with-egg-in't-middle was below 30p. Nevermore. Nevermore.

I suspected that a nice, glowing radioactive-hued cheese slice could be had for buttons, but no! They were asking 54p for a pack of ten. Denied.

54p - oh no you don't!

It seems that breakfast is an unfriendly meal to those on poverty rations. A pint of milk comes in at 49p, whereas the cheapest, grottiest cornflakes available are still out of reach at 64p.

Breakfast? Not for you, povvo!

Before I headed out of the shop in failure and disgrace, I decided to try the fruit and vegetable section. Cherry tomatoes, packaged salads and pricey grapes all sneered as I passed, saying, "not today, dole-ite".

The loose apples were not in abundance at the end of the evening and were surrounded by fierce-looking mothers, so I decided not to tackle those. The oranges were all in nets, plums well-packaged and pineapples absolutely out of my league.

Then, I turned a corner. Not metaphorically, I just went into the next aisle.

Ah! A possible light on the horizon? I was greeted by a head of broccoli donning the welcoming, bright yellow 'Whoops!' sticker. 47p. Not good enough.

A small pack of mixed chillies similarly raised my hopes - nope - 44 p. Try again, sucker.

The white garlic bulbs looked hopeful, staring at me from their papery jackets. Alas, 27p each. They were one penny better than I.

VICTORY! A KIWI FRUIT!!

26P!!

Success came in the form of a little prickly brown nugget. So, it is possible to buy something nutritious for 26p from ASDA at six in the evening.

However, what fun is there in being healthy on a cold autumn/winter night? I decided that I still had some time to burn and that another, equally fun challenge would be to try and make something ridiculous/disgusting/hilarious/dangerous with dregs of ingredients in my cupboards at home! Great plan.

But then a better idea struck on the way out, I dropped the 26p into a charity bucket. People (who are normally richer and more sensible than me...) like to talk about investments all of the time, blah blah blaaaahh, etc etc, so that might just be mine, in the form of 26p worth of karma and good luck. Maybe?!!

Signing (on)!

YAC.

I am about to Call the JobCentre helplines

Despite my own advice, I need to now call three separate helplines...

1.) To enquire why my jobseekers allowance has not arrived today, as scheduled.

2.) To check if my housing and council tax (please, please let these be the same thing/helpline/application!!) claims have been processed. 

3.) To make an appointment with employment/careers service 'The Works'.

I'm just off to pitch the tent up and brew an industrial-sized flask of coffee. I will let you know how I progress.

YAC.

Appointment at 'The Works', Brunswick Street, Manchester

After being told by my JobCentre advisor to visit someone who can help me to 'better market myself and my qualifications' by making my CV look the best it possibly can, I went along to The Works this morning.

The Works is a foundation housed within a community church on Brunswick Street in Manchester. It is a kind of employment clinic, from what I can gather, only it is run by professionals from Manchester University and you can go along whenever you like to gain advice and guidance.

Please read this post as to whether or not I was supposed to need an appointment. My advisor told me I didn't, I suspected that he was wrong.

I turned up at about 10:30am. There were two young people on the desk. In another room, a choir of schoolchildren was singing full-blast. Nice bit of community spirit!

The guy on the desk told me to fill out a form to register an account with The Works. It was all standard stuff, but I declined the 'state your ethnic background' section. I hate that question, it's irrelevant and almost as bad as 'state your sexuality'. Hitler died in 1945 - lets keep it that way. 

Anyway, I handed my registration form in and, guess what? I was then given a phone number to call once I went back home and called a helpline to make an appointment to go back to The Works to speak to someone about my employment status.

I think I now have the right to claim that my JobCentre advisor is ill-informed. Or too lazy to check whether I needed an appointment, as I suspected. 

Or both.

Signing (on),

YAC.

Jobseekers Allowance Pay Day

So, according to my stand-in advisor last week, today is the day I will receive two weeks of jobseekers allowance, which is £140. 

Last night, I was thinking that this is great timing, as I looked at my bank balance (shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit) on Monday and saw that I was just within my overdraft limit. Phew.

That was, until the bank then decided to choose this very week to withdraw its interest payment of £8.34.

It didn't look at my situation, think "Hmm, we will leave this until this transaction WONT tip her over the edge and incur further charges". No, the bank took money out of imaginary money that I don't have. Thanks, Barclays. The bank with a heart. 

So, I have now gone over my overdraft. Then, two more things came out. A magazine publisher tried to deduct £25 - the quarterly fee for a magazine I signed up for. Only, I didn't sign up for subscription of the magazine. About three months ago, I signed up for three issues at £1 each. 

But apparently, they automatically hook you in as a subscriber unless you tell them otherwise. And they know that, three months on, it is unlikely that you will remember that you need to cancel a subscription that you didn't apply for. Thanks also to the magazine publisher.

Then, another direct debit was deducted that I did not anticipate coming out until the 18th.

So, I thought, I cannot wait to get this jobseekers payment tomorrow, almost two weeks after my claim, it is much, much needed and will stop another day of bank charges mounting up.

Also, I have not been able to pay my rent, council tax or bills yet this month, so still owe the money for these things.

I checked my bank account this morning. No jobseekers allowance has been deposited. 

How did I know that would happen?

Apparently, a chap called Robert Lowell once said the following regarding optimism:

"If we see light at the end of a tunnel,
It's the light of an oncoming train".

Signing (on),

YAC.

Second appointment at the Jobcentre

Second appointment at Centre pour la Job, 15:40 in the afternoon. 

Sadly, it seems that the greeter at the front desk has started to tire of my new face and, instead of asking me to take a seat or go on the jobpoint, this time I was greeted with 'go on the jobpoint'.

Then, I looked through a pile of jobs for HGV drivers and teachers that I had already looked at that morning, until my cheerful advisor called me over ten minutes later.

I had been told that the point of my visit today was to look at my situation and also my CV in more depth and improve the latter. What actually happened was that the advisor went over basic things, such as which line of work I was in/looking for, he then told me about some websites and advised me to go to a church close by which houses a careers service called 'The Works'. They would help me better than he could, he informed me, as his job is far too diversified for him to sit and concentrate for long on the intricacies of one persons' CV.

"You should go there tomorrow" he advised me.
OK. "Do I need an appointment?" I asked.**
"No", he answered. "You do not".

"There is a woman there who is lovely, she is great at advice, they will revise and re-work your CV so it markets you better. It is run by recruitment professionals under the guidance of Manchester University," he added.

New task: To locate and visit 'the Works', inside a local church about 20 minutes' walk from my house. Next appointment to 'sign on': Wednesday 21st November. Ok.

JobCentre aggro is certainly one of the few things you can reply upon to brighten your trip to the church of depression and yet again, there was a nice example on my second visit to the establishment.

As I walked inside, I noticed a woman looking a bit stressed standing at the doorway, not so much rocking a pram back and forth as looking as though she was in training for a ram-raid operation. She was smoking a fag with a look of fury on her face, although this may have been the scraped-back hairdo distorting her facial expressions. Severe. Anyway, I found myself hoping that the fag was helping her out and making her feel a bit better from whatever seemed to have pissed her off so extremely. I can now sympathise that the JobCentre severely tests the old patience at times.

However, as I was chatting to my advisor about my ineffective CV, I heard her shouting at the security guards "AM I GOING TO FLUSH MY HEAD DOWN THE TOILET, IS THAT WHAT YOU THINK I'M GONNA DO?! IS IT?!" I think she had used the toilet 'without permission' and had been put in her place.

I wonder....were they afraid that she would do this:

Fact: people on benefits with small children ruthlessly destroy toilets.

Or this:

The image possibly harboured by JobCentre security guards

"WHAT HAPPENS IF I JUST GO OVER THERE RIGHT NOW AND USE THE TOILET AGAIN? WILL YOU THROW ME OUT?" She continued.

That's a pretty reasonable question. Especially coming from a woman with a small child. Can you use the toilet in the JobCentre?

Maybe this is a mission of discovery that can keep me busy during my next visit.

Signing on,

YAC.

**I find it highly unlikely that I can just walk in without an appointment to something like this - lets see what happens.

Incompetent Recruiter of the Week #1: Manchester Metropolitan University

I am starting a weekly feature which will highlight a particular company or organisation that has demonstrated itself to be particularly useless when it comes to recruitment process. From the point of view of a humble jobseeker, of course.

Unfortunately, this weeks' choice is Manchester Metropolitan University, which has run away with the award and left its competitors in a cloud of northern dust.

Oh, how this pains me! This was the very university with which I was so impressed when I joined it to do my degree in 2003. My first impressions on the open day were how sleekly designed my building was, with its glass balconies and steel posts, how brand-new the furniture and facilities were, how professional all of the tutors seemed and how amazing it was for the university to have some high-profile writers on its payroll (Linda Chase, Carol Ann Duffy, etc). In short, the university seemed impressive and exciting to a 19-year-old potential student and I was itching to start my course. 

Fast forward almost ten years. I passed my degree in 2006 with 67.5% (the biggest annoyance of my life - had I coasted and got 60%, I would still have received a 2:1). The time I took my exam was during the tutors' strikes, which caused a lot of disruption and uncertainty at the time. All annoying things that don't necessarily reflect badly upon the uni, but all the same, I'm slightly bitter about them and I don't mind admitting this. 

Anyway, gaining a second-class honours shouldn't hinder me from getting a massive range of jobs, I thought, and I can't say it really has.

However, apparently Manchester Metropolitan University doesn't think much of its own degrees. Since graduating I have applied for several jobs, across various different departments, all of which I was perfectly well-qualified for, and have never once been called for an interview, or been contacted to notify me of my lack of success.

So far, so frustrating. But this isn't really enough to nominate the university for a incompetent recruiter of the week gong.

But this is - let me illustrate the progress of another job application I submitted recently. The position I applied for demanded that I essentially write a long essay on why I meet all of the criteria listed in the application form. I did this. I had suitable, relevant qualifications.

Also, I have experience to illustrate why I would be suitable for the role. I spent five hours writing and honing, checking and re-checking the form. A friend proofread it, (always advisable regardless), despite me having worked as a proofreader in the past.

I declared that I would be amazed should I not get an interview and even more amazed should I not get some form of notification that I was unsuccessful. Please read on. 

October 16th - Job applications close. I applied through an online account that the university advises jobseekers to set up to find work. I submitted my application and also tried to email the finished form to the address irecruit@mmu.ac.uk, just to make sure it arrived safely. There is a notice on the site saying you can do this instead of applying online if you like. 

I then received an email saying that the sending failed, as the mailbox of this address was full. So, I double-checked the status of my application on the university's website just to make sure it had been accepted. It had. I went to bed. 

October 29th - I logged in and noticed that next to the application, there was another update that stated something really vague such as "regret to interview". I have no idea what this means and it was late, so I decided to log in the next day and find out.

October 30th - I looked again and assumed I would not be invited to interview. I got a slight inkling with the word 'regret', call me crazy. However, as far as the university was concerned, it hadn't really confirmed this, so I waited to see if a further notice or email or letter would come through.

Early November - My MMU jobs account username and password stopped working, so I tried leaving it for a day or so, then another day, then another day, but the website would not even allow me to get my password emailed to me or to change it. 

November 7th - I emailed irecruit@mmu.ac.uk again to ask if they could re-set my account so I could check the progress of my job application. This time I got a response:


"If you are having trouble with the web, please submit your application to this email address.

Kind regards,

Recruitment Team"

November 8th - As I wanted to check up on existing things and also search for new jobs and basically have my account back for future job searches, I didn't think this was too much to ask. So I replied:

"OK, I wanted to log in to see what the status of my job application for **** was - could you please tell me?

Kind Regards,"

I received the following response:

"Please could you supply us with the vacancy reference number for the position so that we are able to track your status.

Kind Regards,"

I explained that I did not have the unique code for the job I applied for, as it had now been taken off the website and all such details were on my application form, which I submitted online:

"Hello,

I'm sorry, but all of the details of the vacancy were stored on my account, as advised!

Could you possibly re-set my password or fix my account please?

Thank you!

Kind Regards,"

I sent this email only yesterday and I do know and accept that the university may be waiting for whatever reason to respond. I also know that, according to this BBC report, it is the most applied-to university in the country.

But, in light of it being such a massive organisation that employs so many people, it should, by rights, have an extremely efficient recruitment process and HR department. Shouldn't it?

Not in my experience. I actually think the process I have had to endure is nothing short of an absolute farce and that very little, if any, consideration is afforded to the people who have spent hours of their time filling out applications and hanging their hopes on the possibility of an interview. 

Does Manchester Metropolitan University have any comments to make? Does it wish to defend itself? I really, really hope so. It has the opportunity here to do this and I hope it takes this very seriously. Please post comments below.

Take care.

Signing on,

YAC.

First Appointment at the Jobcentre

So, today was a pretty special day. I went for the first scheduled appointment with my JobCentre 'advisor'.

Only, my advisor wasn't in, so I was sent to chat to a middle-aged gentleman with the same approach to his job role as my regular advisor, i.e) a very, very slow one. 

My appointment was for 10:20am, so I arrived exactly on the dot, with a little plastic envelope I was given last time, containing my appointment times, a record of my jobseeking efforts and my 'signing on' history.

I was told to wait by either looking for a job on the machines in the foyer, or by sitting down on the sofa. Well, like at school, I didn't want to appear too eager, or the other kids would take the piss, so to the sofa it was.**

**Seriously though, I already looked through the jobs this morning.

Fifteen minutes passed before a guy who was sitting staring into space and moving bits of paper from one place to the next almost whispered my name across the room. Good job I was being so astute, eh? I joined him at his pine-coloured MDF desk and he went through my particulars. As we were mid-conversation and he took my papers from little envelope, his phone rang. He picked it up. He spoke for five minutes. He put the phone down. He carried on.

During our appointment, a useful thing he told me was that I would be given two weeks' worth of jobseekers allowance this Wednesday coming. Finally, some accuracy. Thank you, acting advisor.

Unfortunately, I think I then sent him down a bit of a melancholy path, he looked at my qualifications, (10 GCSEs, 3 A-Levels, an English and Foundation Art degree), sighed and said "it's so sad when a graduate can't get work. Is this your first time signing on?"

Me - "Yes."

Advisor - "First time...ever?"

Me - "Errm - yeah!"

I also pointed out that I am not exactly a graduate any more, having left university six years ago. He seemed to think that this didn't matter so much and also that having a degree should be an instant passport to a quality job.

While I appreciate his optimism, I think he needs to change the lenses in his rose-tinted spectacles. Especially as someone who works in the JobCentre.

He then did a job search for me and printed two off that I was vaguely, but not really, interested in. I wish he had mentioned BEFOREHAND that once he has printed them off, I have to apply for them, as it counts as a recommendation from the JobCentre.

So, what do I have? First up, a temporary receptionist role paying £6.50 an hour, 40 hours a week over five days. This involves manning a student reception and dealing with queries relating to key cards.

The second role I have to apply for is marketing coordinator, permanent at £18,000 - £20,000 a year. 8:45 - 5pm. This is in the 'automotive market'.

I have been advised to apply for these both today, at the risk of them being snapped up first. Oh, God forbid!! Well, I will crack on with this and let you know how it goes. 

Signing on.

YAC.

PS) During the fifteen minutes I was waiting on the sofa, a little bit of aggro kicked off in the JobCentre. The two present G4S security chaps rushed to surround a young tracksuit-ed guy like iron filings to a magnet. The seemed to be claiming that an advisor had said something aggravational/out of order to him and that he can't deal with an inconsiderate approach as he has diabetes and various other illnesses. 

As ever, I'd love to hear your thoughts and feelings and personal experiences on these subjects - please comment below.

Calling the JobCentre Helplines - Don't Bother

I wasn't going to post again today, but unfortunately I realised that I still didn't have a date for when my jobseekers allowance would be paid into my bank account. So, at the recommendation of my advisor yesterday, I called one of the many helplines on the slip of paper that people receive when they enter the JobCentre.

I.e., the big palm-off paper - I was given this last week when I turned up in person, first thing in the morning, to make my claim. I did this because the questions online were a bit unclear and convoluted and I've always believed that taking the bull by the horns is the best approach to life.

Despite this, I was told to go home and do it on the phone or internet. You cannot make a claim in person any more.

Soo, armed with just one, very simple question, ("Do you have an exact date for the payment of my jobseekers allowance?") I called the helpline. I was on hold for half an hour. I balanced the receiver on its back so I could go and do other things (dust, make coffee, check emails) and finally, a very tired and disillusioned woman answered the phone.

"Ten days, maybe even 14 days. So, from your claim date. Although, it might have been on the Monday."

What?!?!?! What Monday?? When?? This is not a straightforward answer to decipher.

I decided not to pursue this any further as, when I tried to get her to be more specific, she didn't seem to appreciate it. The general situation, though, as I understand it, is that these 10-14 working days start from the date you first fill out the forms to claim. So, in my case, this will be the 2nd November, exactly a week ago today.

Despite it being recommended by advisors, I would not call the helplines, unless absolutely necessary. If you do, please make sure you are equipped with the following:

  

Signing On,

YAC.

Product Testing - Pawn Yourself!

The OK Times

Cheers, Jeeves!

Sometimes, a person has more than enough money to get by on. They can comfortably buy most of the types of food and drink in supermarkets, even those things with special silver labels instead of blue and white. They can socialise in pubs with their friends, go to the theatre and gigs, take their better halves out for dinner, they travel home and see their families, they buy themselves nice clothes that they proooobably shouldn't, but go on then, it's just a treat, it's affordable, just. Nice! Contentment.

The Rough Times

Have a scramble down the couch

Then, there are times in peoples' lives when they don't quite have enough money to get by on, so they watch their spending for a bit. They probably refrain from going out when they planned, making excuses and promising to come next time. They might rent a DVD instead of go to the pictures, they turn away from the pair of shoes that they promised themselves last month. They might pop to Lidl instead of Tesco for the month, because saving a few quid here and there means a lot. Their food cupboards become peppered with  extra-value, own-brand tins from the supermarket.

The Rougher Times

Sooooo then. Then. Then there are those times when people are dangerously close to having no money at all. I mean no money. Not even any credit left on a card. They are literally pounds away from the edge of their overdraft. There is no physical money under their mattress. Not many options exist at this stage, but hopefully anyone in this situation will be waiting for some money to filter through, or they have thought of some way they can make a few quid. The more obvious means include borrowing (from better halves, family, friends, the bank), selling things like jewellery - (cash for gold companies have boomed during the economic downturn), clothes (ditto with 'cash for clothes' outlets), books, DVDs and CDs, but there are more innovative ways to squeeze a few quid from one's assets that may require a little out-of-the-box thinking.

Sell your Ass to Science!

Well, in my case, I didn't really have to think outside of the box. At the moment, I am in the middle of scenario #3 (above). I was approached by a company for which I took part in a sort of medical trial for during my last 10-week stint of unemployment in 2008. It has since changed its name, but the general jist is that it signs people up who fit certain criteria and test products on them. Simple as that.

Lie back and think of the brown envelope

It should be, anyway. The last trial I took part in was to test the effects of (I assume, fairly safe) detergent on human skin. Unfortunately, I had to abandon the trial halfway through as I had an allergic reaction to all of the products and also to the surgical tape. My irritated skin was rated a 'level 6', with permanent scarring being a 'level 8'. I was given a nervous good bye and handed £25 for my participation. Please don't think I'm complaining - I knew there may be some irritation involved and I also forgot to mention that I have sensitive skin. Plus, I wasn't scarred, so no harm done.


I can't relate the details of the trial I embarked upon today due to a contract I signed, but I can say that it involves testing two different hygiene items to see if either helps to soothe or heal a relatively kosher part of the body. The whole thing involves 7 visits to the site (which is right by my house - easy), and I will be given £100 for my troubles at the end.

Fraud?!?! Surely Not

        

But, this doesn't make me a bad person!?!?

With reference to whether this affects **cough** claims for jobseekers allowance or not, I don't know. I didn't want to jinx myself by asking. There's nothing online about it and this is a big company, so maybe the government allows you to keep anything you may earn by sacrificing your major organs.


Maybe the company doesn't like these kinds of questions - after all, your money is handed to you in an envelope at the end and off you are. No questions were asked today regarding my employment status. I may not even get to the end of the trial - they sometimes have too many people halfway through, or your results may not go their way, so the company just pays what it owes you, on a per-visit basis, then let you go.


So, I will carry on and I will not raise the subject. Is this moral? Well, I'm sorry Mr Cameron, if you're going to make it as hard as possible for me to find a job and you're also going to make it as hard as possible for me to claim jobseekers allowance for a month or so after I have worked non-stop and paid my taxes since I was 16, then I'm claiming my hard-earned £100 - to hell with your objections.

Sorry to all of those good people who may see this as an abuse of the benefits system, I really am. I assure you that if I sign up for any more of these product tests, I will look into the issue. Promise.

Anyway, I will keep you up-to-date with the trial and any possible side-effects, hitches or abnormalities that occur. This is me, signing off, instead of on. Just for today. 

So, What Am I Moaning About?

What's the Story?

I've always been a head-in-the-clouds, arty, writer-y kind of person, not bad at listening, learning, speaking and organising things. I did all kinds of extra-curricular stuff at school - I was elected form captain, class 'MP' and so on. This was mainly because nobody else wanted to be seen dead doing these geeky things. I was 'elected' by my fellow classmates in a rough-as-boots school where any of the above 'achievements' would have warranted a good kicking. 

Anybody....? No....? OK then.

However, once I got into college, I diluted myself into the larger stream of kids who were bothered enough/intelligent enough to carry on their education. I didn't maintain my position as a hand-in-the-air, question-answering over-achiever.

College Days

I just concentrated on my classes and passed Art and English A-Levels, plus a Foundation Art course afterwards. I also took an Advanced Extension Award in English - slightly over-achieving there, but it was a gruelling 3-hour exam that gained me a merit and proved that I was pretty good at English on a nation-wide scale.

Funnily enough, I can't say the art, English, foundation art or the advanced extension award have really opened any fat, heavy doors for me. Hmm, creative industries rake you in a fortune...don't they?!

Which degree for me.....?

After college, I was at a crossroads. My art teacher encouraged me to apply for art, specifically textiles, at degree level. Unfortunately, textiles was the wrong area for me to concentrate on, I went for the interview and my portfolio (full of half-finished pattern work), didn't cut it. There was still time to apply for fine art though, however, in the meanwhile, I received two unconditional offers to study English.

Should have seen careers advisor sooner than the end of 3rd year

My art tutor, who had guided me for the last three years, tried to reason with me and seemed unhappy about the way my thoughts were going. She said "some people send their kids to art school and no matter how much the student wants to be good at drawing, they just never will be. Some people have just got it, and you have it." Apologies for the self-flattery, but this is the sentence I recall when life throws an egg at my face.


I thought about university and decided that I didn't have any idea what I wanted to do. But, I was good at English. I gained a merit for the Advanced Extension Award, didn't I? Plus, an English graduate would have more transferable skills and a wider choice of career paths, surely?! So, I accepted my English offer and did my three years at uni.

You Know Naathing!!

When I was younger and right up until I graduated, I didn't really think hard enough about what I wanted to do. This was because, as an arrogant and unrealistic "yoof", I thought I was capable of doing anything. If I wanted to start out as a writer, I would and could. I'd just do it, I wouldn't need to think about the 'hows'.

Easy! If I then decided I wanted to be an artist, I'd just flit about and start doing that. Yeah, fine, where's the problem? By the time I was, like REALLY old, say 30, I will probably have done all of these cool things and be thinking about what to do with my fortune. Maybe retire. Yeah.

By the time I'm 30, yeah?

My God. Now, here is the reality of the 28 (almost 29)-year-old version of me.

I graduated in 2006. I then coasted around in bar/office jobs and applied to teach abroad. My English degree was useful here (any degree was good for the application) as I was accepted, did the job and came home in summer 2008.


At this point, I had a genius idea. I wanted to be a journalist. I'd been working as a voluntary writer for local magazines and fanzines since my second year at uni. Unfortunately, I missed a great opportunity to be music editor of the uni magazine, as they didn't allow 3rd-year students to do this. Bad luck - I simply didn't know about the whole music reviewing game earlier.

Not Exactly Reporting from the War Zone...

I got a job as a news writer. I soon became disillusioned with it - partly due to this being an SEO-oriented news writing position. Kind of like sales, but selling half-arsed, re-hashed, keyword-laden news articles for a company with no trace of a heart, offering no kind of prospects for the future. Fair enough for some. But not for me.

Search Engine Optimisation - dull

At this point, I made a difficult, but sensible decision (I hope). I continued trying to get work experience and job interviews with news outlets and newspapers, etc. However, many of the regional ones started closing down, I hadn't even sat my NCTJs and online publications started to, in a way, saturate the profession.

If everyone is writing blogs, features and articles, why not outsource content, instead of employing lots of feature staff in-house? Hell, why not advertise all the positions as internships and watch school-leavers/graduates/career-changers fall all over each other to work for us for free? This is what newspapers, magazines and websites seemed to be working towards. So, journalism just didn't seem to me to hold any promise for the future.


This particular realisation was a big deal - writing is one of the few things I could probably make a good living from, going from past feedback from others and my own enjoyment of it. But, right now it isn't a wise move for someone approaching 30 looking for a career instead of yet another job. So, I realised, I have to make myself good at something else.

Stop the press - literally

I left the world of 'news' writing after about 20 months in the role. I was offered a job by a friend and essentially, I think I took it mainly to escape the monotonous boredom of SEO writing. My new official job title was business development assistant for a very small company based in a pretty flashy office in central Manchester.

It wasn't rocket science and it wasn't particularly challenging, but I have never had it so good in terms of my general day-to-day duties and perks and I probably never will again. I left, due to the company closing, in 2012, so there was another two years, seven months in a middle-of-the-road position when it came to my ambitions for the future.

So, here I am, after leaving this role. I officially became a free woman on 29th September. It is now November 8th and I still have no job. I have signed on the dole, after grossly underestimating how fat my final wage would be. This is my story so far.

Sadly, we only get one

I want to relate my experiences in some way, I want to share them with other people who are, or may soon be, unemployed and looking for work. Most of all, I want to document this long struggle I have barely started, as a woman hitting her thirties, of looking, not just for a job, but almost for an identity, a means of self-validation - something that makes me happy.

I want a career that will give me the sense that I've done the right thing with my life. Something that makes me feel useful and successful, no matter what I'm paid or what industry I end up in. This is not too much to ask - I have seen people who have this, I know it is possible!

In a sense, I've rewound ten years, back to that post-college crossroad, the point at which I decided, quite blindly and incorrectly, that I was choosing convenience and money over enjoyment when I chose English over art. Lets see, with hindsight at my disposal,  if I can make the right choices this time.

Thank you for reading and wish me luck!