Wednesday, 4 September 2013

Real Talk: This is How I Dole

I am going to make no effort to hide the fact that I am amongst the unwashed masses every fortnight on Friday. I am one of those unemployed Brits; inexperienced and debilitated. Not to mention humiliating. There is nothing shameful about not having a job, because times are hard in this sector and it's becoming increasingly difficult to embark on a promising career.

Upon return from Greece, I have been seeking employment, which - as aforementioned - is easier said than done. To support myself I am gaining Job Seeker's Allowance and have to be attend scheduled meetings with little purpose. I don't mind being involved in acts of banality but when I have to pay £4.60 to get to the 'interview' every other Friday where a trained member of staff reads of an autocue for ten minutes, I feel slightly robbed. It is understandable that they have to ensure that people are searching for work when obtaining these benefits, but they can't just take time and money from the people who are genuinely trying to find work and not offer them a better service than a slurring woman.

Hard to ween out the drabs from the people that want to try, but I feel that I am being slaughtered by those who exploit this system. They make it too easy for the muppets to take advantage of.

Going to the job centre to 'sign on' for employment benefits is not the way I envisage spending every other Friday.

Hermit. £4.60 to go to town and back seems a bit steep for me now. In no other time of my life had I even cared about this because I always had the safety net of a steady income to furnish any lavish behaviour I would tend to get involved in.

At this point, I must end this piece before I combust into a raging ball of inept inaptitude.

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