Why are the unemployed made to feel worthless?

After months of unemployment, I have got myself a job. This is great news for me but also pretty good news for you too. ‘Why?’ I hear you ask... (still single, live alone, still having make believe conversations to fill the time. You know the drill by now). Well, as you ask, this has saved you from, by my own impossibly low standards, the dullest blog ever about unemployment.

It would have started with my first trip to sign on, where a man decided to relieve himself on the Jobcentre chair. I was shocked but looking back I think perhaps he had a point. The blog would have outlined the rudeness of some of the staff, how little eye contact is made when you speak to them and how you are made to feel worthless and a criminal. I would have recounted how I suggested that the Jobcentre tag me to satisfy their demand that if I missed my signing on day to go to a job interview, then I must turn up at 9am the following day to ‘prove’ that I wasn’t on holiday. I could have told you all about the ‘homework books’ where you record what you do to seek a job and how frankly you could write anything in them for all the notice taken. (I tested this by putting in ‘Peacock Keeper’ as one job title, a role I had actually applied for in a tweet. This was read back to me along with other job titles without a second of hesitation). I would have regaled you with the tale of how security was almost called to escort me out as I suggested that their approach was nonsensical bureaucracy.

For balance I would have told you about the two members of staff who were lovely, helpful and supportive but were fighting against an impossible system that wasn’t designed for people who actively seek work.

I would have outlined how soul destroying it is to apply for around 250 jobs and hear back from around 1 in 8 if I was lucky. How recruitment agencies who were too busy to meet with me, promised the world but delivered nothing.

I also would probably have bored you with how I felt my identity had been stripped from me along with my job. How awkward I felt in social situations where the inevitable “so what do you do?” question is asked and I had no answer. How that combined with coming out of a long term relationship left me floundering as to who I actually am. How that affected my self belief, which in turn probably compounded my problems in getting a job.

Oh yes, it would have been a treat of a blog for you, full of the jolly japes I had trying desperately to keep sane while the life force was gradually sucked from me.

So I’m writing all this partly as a personal catharsis but also to encourage anyone else out there in the same position to keep going.

I’d love to offer some deep lessons I’ve learnt from all this but I’m not sure there are any. It feels like luck that I have found this job. Right time, right place - that kind of stuff. I suppose the best and obvious advice I can offer is to surround yourself with positive people who have confidence in you and won’t hesitate to build you up when you need it. I have the greatest friends and the best support network and this last year has taught me how important they are.

So I am delighted that I have a job. But the job is in London and whilst I am ridiculously excited about the complete change of life this will bring, I am pretty upset that it moves me away from a large proportion of those very friends that have kept me going throughout the hardest year of my life.

I will be back regularly and they are planning trips to London so it’s not really goodbye but leaving my fantastic friends and this beautiful City is the dark cloud over me at the moment.

I started by saying there was good news for you and I’m afraid that’s the extent of it. Despite my exile, I will be carrying on blogging here. Every rainbow needs rain you know? 

Ali