So, having just scraped enough together to pay the mortgage, I have exactly £2.52 left to last for the next two weeks. Should be fun. It's on days like today that the panic is harder to deflect. It's not just a panic attack, it's blind, terrifying, completely debilitating panic; it's no future, useless, bitter, bag lady panic. It's a dense, black hole opening up directly in front of you with no way to avoid falling it. It's chest tightening, brain emptying and heart stopping panic. On a good day, it last a few minutes. Some days, it's every bad thing which has happened to you; worthless relationships, bad financial decisions, childhood traumas, bad health, wasted opportunities, worthlessness, pain, tears and utter devastation.
You know you have to get up - doing nothing is never an option because there is no-one else to pay the bills, feed the cats, take the ritualistic medication. Not eating is not a option either. For a diabetic, it's suicide.
Get back on the computer, spend time applying for jobs you know you are never going to get, sending out letters and forcing the panic out of your voice when you make those follow-up calls. Following up those b******s who refuse to pay you for the work you did and scrabbling for any remaining scrapes of hope.
Bad day.
Thursday, 3 September 2009
Wednesday, 26 August 2009
So, to get back to my experience with the government's wonderful back to work initiative. I was invited to a 'back to work' interview. Or at least I thought I was. I dutifully filled in my work form and copied all the job applications I had sent off.
When I got to the job centre, I was ushered into a very small room where I was eventually told I was going to get a powerpoint presentation.
It was my worst nightmare. At least by only having a five minute sign on session and the occasional one to one interview, I could kid myself that this was just a bad dream. Faced with ten other local unemployees, reality hit me like an express train.
It was a small room, it was very hot and I was wedged between two men whose benefit clearly did not run to soap, hot water or deodorant. When we were told that the presentation took about 40 minutes I wondered how long I was going to last. Having expected a 15 min one to one interview I had not thought to bring supplies (water, glucose, clove studded orange) so my concentration was firmly fixed on not throwing up.
As powerpoint presentations go, it was pretty lame. It was poorly laid out, grammatically incorrect and the women presenting (bless her, it wasn't her fault - she admitted she had no training) was less than inspiring.
The presentation was (supposedly) designed to help people back to work. Oh and they wanted us to share our experiences. I don't think so. My ability to get back to work relies on no-one and I mean no-one realising that I am claiming benefit. Perception is everything is this world and I strongly believe that this applies to plumbers as well as executives. Let people know you are on the skids and they drop you so fast you think you must have swine flu stamped on your forehead. Mind you, they are already starting to drop me. While I can be extremely creative when it comes to excuses as to why I can't join them for dinner, fundraising activities, hen nights, a drink at the pub even, they do eventually stop asking. Poverty is an infectious disease.
So back to the presentation. Underlying their 'positive' action plan was a clear message that the government was not prepared to support you indefinitely or was going to smack your bottom or write you off if you don't get a job.
In case anyone thinks I am not trying, I get up at 7.00 every morning, sit at my computer all day until 5 or 5.30 trying to resurrect my business, search the web for jobs and every 30 seconds or so, force myself not to give up. I apply for about 7 jobs a week - some suitable, many not.
So, I now have to force myself to go and sign on. It's depressing, demoralising and I exit hoping that I never have to go back but braced for the inevitable return journey.
When I got to the job centre, I was ushered into a very small room where I was eventually told I was going to get a powerpoint presentation.
It was my worst nightmare. At least by only having a five minute sign on session and the occasional one to one interview, I could kid myself that this was just a bad dream. Faced with ten other local unemployees, reality hit me like an express train.
It was a small room, it was very hot and I was wedged between two men whose benefit clearly did not run to soap, hot water or deodorant. When we were told that the presentation took about 40 minutes I wondered how long I was going to last. Having expected a 15 min one to one interview I had not thought to bring supplies (water, glucose, clove studded orange) so my concentration was firmly fixed on not throwing up.
As powerpoint presentations go, it was pretty lame. It was poorly laid out, grammatically incorrect and the women presenting (bless her, it wasn't her fault - she admitted she had no training) was less than inspiring.
The presentation was (supposedly) designed to help people back to work. Oh and they wanted us to share our experiences. I don't think so. My ability to get back to work relies on no-one and I mean no-one realising that I am claiming benefit. Perception is everything is this world and I strongly believe that this applies to plumbers as well as executives. Let people know you are on the skids and they drop you so fast you think you must have swine flu stamped on your forehead. Mind you, they are already starting to drop me. While I can be extremely creative when it comes to excuses as to why I can't join them for dinner, fundraising activities, hen nights, a drink at the pub even, they do eventually stop asking. Poverty is an infectious disease.
So back to the presentation. Underlying their 'positive' action plan was a clear message that the government was not prepared to support you indefinitely or was going to smack your bottom or write you off if you don't get a job.
In case anyone thinks I am not trying, I get up at 7.00 every morning, sit at my computer all day until 5 or 5.30 trying to resurrect my business, search the web for jobs and every 30 seconds or so, force myself not to give up. I apply for about 7 jobs a week - some suitable, many not.
So, I now have to force myself to go and sign on. It's depressing, demoralising and I exit hoping that I never have to go back but braced for the inevitable return journey.
Tuesday, 18 August 2009
going to hell
Which is where I am going. I had a confrontation with a delinquent priest today - where I live priests are a daily hazard. This one was enjoying his fish and chips outside my house and, rather than walk the few yards back down to the fish and chip shop to dispose of his rubbish, he decided to put it in my bin.
Now, not a mortal sin, you might say but possibly not the behaviour of a decent citizen, a grownup or a man of god? You may think I overracted but it's summer, hot (yes I know it's a bit of a shock) and the bins had just been emptied. It would be two weeks before they are emptied again and I carefully double bag all my rubbish to prevent nasty surprises crawling all over the place. Plus the binmen are not happy to collect such bins. Anyway, back to the priest. I politely asked him to remove it and he refused. He tried to tell me that it was the only bin around - I pointed out the two nearest public bins and suggested he take the rubbish back to the fish and chip shop.
Well, you would have thought I had asked him to perform a black magic ritual. He stomped, he snorted and he absolutely refused to comply. He told me I was being
'uncharitable'. I suggested that if he expected me to be charitable in this instance, perhaps he could return the charitable gesture in two weeks time and scrub out my bin or take the flyblown contents to the tip when the binmen refused to take it.
He stomped some more, he sulked, pouted and eventually dived into my bin to retrieve his rubbish. He stomped off, muttering under his breath. Clearly I am going to hell - if I believed in it. He should have opted for the black magic ritual - I might have taken more notice.
It wasn't the act so much - although I expect more from a man of the cloth but his attitude. Not so much a christian then...............
Now, not a mortal sin, you might say but possibly not the behaviour of a decent citizen, a grownup or a man of god? You may think I overracted but it's summer, hot (yes I know it's a bit of a shock) and the bins had just been emptied. It would be two weeks before they are emptied again and I carefully double bag all my rubbish to prevent nasty surprises crawling all over the place. Plus the binmen are not happy to collect such bins. Anyway, back to the priest. I politely asked him to remove it and he refused. He tried to tell me that it was the only bin around - I pointed out the two nearest public bins and suggested he take the rubbish back to the fish and chip shop.
Well, you would have thought I had asked him to perform a black magic ritual. He stomped, he snorted and he absolutely refused to comply. He told me I was being
'uncharitable'. I suggested that if he expected me to be charitable in this instance, perhaps he could return the charitable gesture in two weeks time and scrub out my bin or take the flyblown contents to the tip when the binmen refused to take it.
He stomped some more, he sulked, pouted and eventually dived into my bin to retrieve his rubbish. He stomped off, muttering under his breath. Clearly I am going to hell - if I believed in it. He should have opted for the black magic ritual - I might have taken more notice.
It wasn't the act so much - although I expect more from a man of the cloth but his attitude. Not so much a christian then...............
Friday, 7 August 2009
the first
I'm starting this blog mainly because my mind is so full of thoughts that I am reaching the point where my brain is going to crash because, unlike the hard drives I can easily purchase to fulfil my computer based existence, my brain is starting to reach critical mass. Also it's cheaper than a therapist.
This blog is also going to track my day to day dealings with being unemployed - I've been self-employed for the past twenty years but once the work dries up (more of that later..........) you are officially (if not technically) unemployed. And I am hoping it will halt the slow but increasing fascination with television which is beginning to take up more of my working day than I ever thought possible and I've been working from home for many years. Not daytime TV, of course, I haven't sunk that low but with the powers of modern technology, I can save 'have to see item' to one of those pesky hard drives and have enough watching material to get me through the day.......... and night.
To come: the saga of the council tax benefit, getting a novel published, being a diabetic and going to hell.............
This blog is also going to track my day to day dealings with being unemployed - I've been self-employed for the past twenty years but once the work dries up (more of that later..........) you are officially (if not technically) unemployed. And I am hoping it will halt the slow but increasing fascination with television which is beginning to take up more of my working day than I ever thought possible and I've been working from home for many years. Not daytime TV, of course, I haven't sunk that low but with the powers of modern technology, I can save 'have to see item' to one of those pesky hard drives and have enough watching material to get me through the day.......... and night.
To come: the saga of the council tax benefit, getting a novel published, being a diabetic and going to hell.............
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