Haunted by the ghost of unemployment

Have you been paying attention?  If so, you will know that I am now working, albeit part time.  During my brief spell of redundancy, I decided to try and reclaim some of that hard earned cash that I have been haemorrhaging into the social security coffers for the last 25 years.  I think I regret it now.  Approximately six weeks after making my claim for benefits and the like, I received a cheque through the post.  Hurrah I hear you cry.  Calm yourself now, it wasn't for that much, also a reduction on my remaining council tax.  Hurrah I hear you cry again. Now, for clarity the total of these sums isn't enough to retire on.  Shortly later, a letter arrives from Inland Revenue telling me they are going to give us more money.  I'm almost giddy with excitement by now.  It seems the system is giving me money!  Now, before we get too carried away, let's hit the brakes for just a moment.  Working tax credit is considered as an income so far as benefits agency are concerned and by now I have a job that I will be starting imminently.  So, as a good honest citizen, it's back off to the Council offices to tell them everything.  So I do.  That's the best part of an afternoon gone being honest and appeasing my conscience; but as a consolation I leave with the warm glow of an honest man.


About 36 seconds later, several million letters appear through my door from Gloucester City Council.
1. A cheque for back payment of housing benefit.  Hurrah!
2. A letter telling me all about my claim that looks much the same as previous letters.  Hurrah!
3. A big fat letter explaining why I am no longer entitled to housing or council tax benefit and indeed haven't been since tax credits went up so I've been overpaid.  Boo hiss!
4. An invoice asking for everything back, including the value of the cheque above all bar about three shillings.  Boo hiss!
5. A new council tax bill, hiking it up to pre benefits levels and wanting the overpayment back.  Boo hiss again.


All the letters arrived on the same day and indeed 1-4 all have the same date and 2 and 3 are from the same person.  My head spins.  There is only one thing for it.  Phone.  Talk to someone, find out what's going on.  So I do. About a week later.  Desperately helpful cheery bloke confirms that I do indeed need to give them money back.
"How would you like to pay it Mr Kirby"
"Well, I wouldn't really but what are my options"
"I can take it over the phone now, pay over three or four months, couple of other options blah blah blah"
I pay in full, they'll probably only write to me again if I don't. "D'you realise I was probably better off on the dole"
"I couldn't possibly comment sir"
"Ah, go on"
"I can't"
"Ah, go on"

"I can't"

He wouldn't be goaded.  Good professional chap.  Not that good however, his name was on letter 4.


So, I am now considering revisiting my own honesty and conscience.  Seriously though, in the same metaphorical boat again, would I bother?  I really don't know.  Claiming dole was easy and quite an experience every fortnight, the rest is hassle.  Benefit fraud must be a full time job and as much work as a real job.


Anyway, how are you all?  Been up to anything interesting?  If you have, blog it, I might give it a read.  Brother, take note, your blog is barren.  That being said, I do know my brother is drinking hard to get his book complete, and a fine book I'm sure it will be.  Shameless plug, where's my commission?
In amongst the benefits melee, I have also been on my first practical driving lesson.  I'm being taught one instructor to two trainees so we get a bit of practice trying to teach and getting used to how much it is necessary to say.  It is possible that my co-trainee was hand picked to make me feel better about my own efforts.  Feel free to draw your own inference.  Over a two(ish) hour drive, notwithstanding I didn't do any manoeuvres, I did drive well enough to probably pass a normal driving test.  Considering it is 13 years since I was last taught to drive, I'm quite happy with that although I have naturally been swotting up. Things on the road and driving best practice has changed in the time I've been driving so I reckon there is a case for refresher courses.  Give it a couple of months, tell me you saw it here and I'll do you a deal.

So if you see a heavy liveried Vauxhall Corsa on the streets of Cheltenham or Gloucester, give it a wave, it might be me...

Given that the spectre of redundancy still hangs, the blog title has a reprieve, giving you all more chance to win the exciting prize I spoke of in my previous blog.  OK, truth is I still haven't worked out how to change the title yet.

My indecision is final

I used to be indecisive but I'm not so sure now. Ah, the old jokes are the best; my brother has, after all been dining out on them for years.

Today's blog entry is all about those indecisions that you make then decide on an option then change your mind and so on ad infinitum until it becomes either irrelevant or a matter of life and death. Fortunately, the decisions I am faced with tend more to the former category.

Firstly, as previously discussed, the title of my blog. Take a glance at the top of the page and you will see that it still refers to redundancy. I am now gainfully (though part time) employed; dole have washed their hands of me so time to retitle. I have decided to prove that I support the whole principle of democracy and throw open the new title to the public vote, Simon Cowell eat your heart out. Suggestions please to the comments on here, Facebook or, if you know me well enough feel free to email me. Please don't come round knocking at my door at the dead of night to tell me your idea. To add some excitement I have decided to throw all cost to the wind and the person who makes the best suggestion could win an (optional) prize of an autographed photo of me. Contain your excitement, please.

My other indecision I had (note the past tense here) made a full on, no turning back decision on so no democracy here. Remember I was debating the idea of two jobs, 12 hour day? Second job being at Royal Mail doing the Christmas cover? Now, I had decided to give it a go notwithstanding a couple of days I couldn't do, then what happens? I'll tell you what. The buggers write to me and say I won't be needed until 2nd December, some 10 days after my original start date giving me about 10 working days. It's barely worth me getting tired for. I have therefore resigned before I start. The deed poll will be stopped, my name will not be Pat. It does make me wonder though if Royal Mail have lost business for Christmas and they don't see so much of a need for Christmas cover? I'll let you mull that one over yourself, I don't feel the

need to debate my feelings about unions and strike action here.

That's it for my indecision but I haven't finished yet, oh no, I couldn't let you down.

I have been thinking. When I was a kid, what I generally do in my blog would have simply been called a diary (not the sort you keep your meetings and dentist appointments in) and, historically, no one would ever be allowed within 100 feet of your diary let alone read it. This whole blog for the world to see is a bit of a turn about eh?

So to my week. How have you all been? I've been fine thanks for asking. I have noticed though that I've been quite inactive and increasingly rotund of late so I have decided to get my bike out of the shed. I stuck it in the back of the car and went for a ride after work, another bonus of working half day. Weather was OK so I thought it would be rather pleasant to go have lunch at

Witcombe Roman Villa, just a couple of miles from the office. Now, I rather like the villa, it is always peaceful and very picturesque. I have been there many times before although only in the car or by walking across the Cotswold way in dry weather. Never did it occur to me that the access road is, essentially, a working farm track. My bicycle is a lovely slick racing machine with tyres no wider than a gnat's pube. It now looks like a rough old cyclo-cross thing. Still, a pleasant meander, 25ish miles and feeling the affects after not riding for a few weeks. Reminds me of a David Letterman interview with Lance Armstrong after winning his 487th (or thereabouts) Tour de France:

"So Lance, how do you feel after winning the tour again"

"I've got a sore arse Dave"

There ends the similarity.

Yesterday saw me on a night out to see Seasick Steve at the O2 in Birmingham. We took reliable information that the O2 is what was the Carling Academy. It isn't. Although there were a goodly number of other people milling about equally misinformed. Once we found the place, still on time, it was a cracking evening. If you haven't come across the fella before, look him up, listen to his music if you like Southern States blues stuff but either way an interesting biography you can read about it on his website www.seasicksteve.com - some music downloads on there too or a good biog on Wikipedia.

Right, I'm off for now. If you see me tonight in the pitch black with a camera on a tripod in my living room, there's nothing kinky I'll just be taking photos of ghosts on my sofa. Check here again in a couple of days, if it works I'll blog the results. If not, I'll crawl into a corner and sob inconsolably.

The end of an era

Have you missed me? It's been a while since I last blogged but that's because I have been busy. Busy doing what? you ask. Go on feel free to ask. Actually, it makes no difference whatsoever whether you ask or not because I'm going to tell you unless I have lost you already.

Last week I made the long last walk to the dole office. I broke my normal routine by checking in with the greeter just a few minutes before my appointment and not going and looking at the rather useless computer things that advertise the non-jobs. This did, however, give me the new opportunity of watching other people using them. In particular a girl with her boyfriend, I presume, who printed off just about every job on the system. In 5 minutes they must have come away with 20 job details each. There are a

couple of possibilities here by my reckoning. Either they were very keen to get a job or they were trying to show their Job centre chap that they were looking for a job and binning the details on the way out or they were just in competition, who could print out the most details in a set time. Whichever way, an odd couple.

So to my interview:

"Good afternoon Mr Kirby"

"Hello"

"How's the job hunting?"

"I've stopped. Not looking now"

"Pardon?"

"I've stopped. Not looking now"

"Can I ask why? You know you must be looking for work to claim job seekers"

"Yes"

........

"I have a job now"

So what happens? Someone rushes on with flowers? Fireworks? Spontaneous, rapturous applause? At least a hug from the job centre staff, after all we have become friends over the last couple of months haven't we?

"You'll have to fill in this section to sign off then"

That's it. I have given many hours of my life to the job centre now I'm fobbed off with a wee form to sign off. No tears, nothing. I filled in the necessary paperwork and left, deflated, disappointed.

The rest of the week is half term. Tina is off work so we have half a week of family time. A rare treat including a trip to Weston. Strange, we went to Weston right at the end of October and experienced better weather than when we went in the summer; and we saw the start of the work on the new pier.

Saturday was Hallowe'en. Now, historically I have been a proper grumpy about Hallowe'en but this year in an attempt to be happy jolly dad and shake off, at least temporarily, the Grumpy Old Man image, we take a trip to Over farm and get pumpkins which are duly carved into jack o' lanterns that looked a bit like these on the left. We don't like waste so decided to make pumpkin pie from the flesh taken out of the pumpkin. Want my advice? Do you? If not look away now because I'm going to give it. If you ever carve pumpkins, please, for the love of god throw away the flesh. Pumpkin pie has to join the very short list of food I really can't stand. It is truly grim.

The kids dressed up to go trick or treating with some very strict rules and, I must confess, I was impressed by the haul they came back with. I did assume that most people were as grumpy as I typically am about Hallowe'en. Maybe I misjudged people or just tarred them with my own brush.

Monday was new job day one. It is a complete change for me. A rare foray into working for a small, non techy company. Very relaxed, very chilled but everyone gets the job done.

And finally to the highlight of the last week. Can we have a drum roll please? After several weeks of study the time came to sit my driving theory test, the first part to qualify to becoming a driving instructor. And, can you be discrete? I was probably more nervous than I can remember having been for an awfully long time. The morning spent on the toilet. So what happens? 96% in the theory and 63/75 in the hazard perception. I blitzed it. I rock. I am great. Here's to the practical training and the next two tests.

On the Horns of a Dilemma

What is the plural of dilemma? Dillemmae? Dillemmi, Dilemmas? If there isn't anyone around try saying them out loud, none sound right. However whatever the plural is I have two borne from what is good news.

Today I had a second interview for a part time job in Hucclecote and they offered me the job. I have accepted. It seems a good way to get off the rock 'n' roll and leave behind the fortnightly adventure of the dole office whilst still giving me enough time to train to be a driving instructor. Everyone's a winner so far you might think.

So to dilemma number 1. You will recall that some weeks ago I was accepted for the temporary Christmas cover job with Royal Mail. Not being the union type, I was fully prepared to take this on; now, however, I have another job so the question is can I handle both for a period of four weeks? Doing the sums, a twenty hour week is four hours per day, add that to a ten hour night shift for Royal Mail and that's a fourteen hour day. Five days a week for four weeks. Reasonable money but will it be too much work? Remember, I served my apprenticeship as a civil servant so was used to a fourteen hour week if we were busy; I'm sure you have heard the joke - Why doesn't a civil servant look out of the window in the morning? - Because then they would have nothing to do in the afternoon.

Dilemma 2, and far more important. If you have been following my blog for some time, I think we can consider ourselves friends and what are friends for if not to share burdens of this importance? If you read the title of my blog and the first entry, you will know that it was born to share my experiences as a doley with anyone who might want to read it. So what to do now? I'm quite hooked on blogging and quite attached to this blog. I would be far too sad to abandon it now. It would be like losing a limb. Well, not quite like losing a limb, that's obviously much more severe but you get the drift. So, please feel free to comment, I'm thinking of re-titling to cover new job, training as a driving instructor or just about anything that comes to mind.

On Tuesday next week I shall be making my emotional visit to Jobcentre Plus for my last sign on and to sign off. Tears, I'm sure, will be shed.

Grumpy and Proud

I am a big fan of the BBC Grumpy old series. Probably no surprise to those that know me. Even the kids bough me a Mr Grumpy Tee shirt for my birthday a year or two ago, then a Mr Grumpy toy for Christmas. Since the age of about 12 I watched them and nodded through every comment. I didn't realise it was supposed to be comedy, I thought it was a documentary. Why do I tell you this? Yesterday was signing on day. Another jolly couple of hours at the dole office

It gave me reason to give more thought as to the perfect job. You'll no doubt recall a few blogs ago I discussed my career options. They were quite sensible. After signing on yesterday, I thought I would share some thoughts on the perfect job. Consider the following conversation with Job Centre chap who had read my form declaring my efforts at getting a job:

JC "Quite a variety of jobs you've shown an interest in Mr Kirby"

Me "Mm hmm"

JC "What are you looking for?"

Me "Something interesting"

JC "What's your perfect job?"

Pause.....

Me "Yours"

JC "Really?"

Me "Yes, after all, it's probably seen more growth than any other business of late"

But it got me thinking about some other jobs I have previously considered at least for a temporary position; traffic warden, truancy officer or best of all the guy that gets evidence on benefits fraudsters - you know following and filming the invalid playing football and the like. Put simply, any job that causes misery to people that I dislike; a way to vent my spleen. I fear I wouldn't last long in any of these posts though. I would be that traffic warden watching the clock for the instant that someone goes over their time.

If you are unemployed, you will be familiar with the sheets that you record your job search activities on. You note the date, what you did and the outcome. JC noticed the jobs I was applying for but not the comment against checking the job pages of the Citizen where I wrote "Nothing of interest, the job pages are about as good as the editorial".

Still, I took the conversation on to a different level:

Me "Actually I have a job now. Well not yet"

JC "So you need to sign off"

Me "Not yet, don't start until 23rd November and it's only for a month"

JC "You'll have to sign off and after the job finishes you'll have to sign back on but you can do a fast track renewal"

Me "Is it any quicker than a normal application"

JC "No".

It appears that if you do any temporary work over 16 hours in any one week you have to sign off then back on again every week you aren't working. It's a bit of a faff and I'm sure designed to piss you off so much you won't bother so there will be less people officially unemployed. Not me, Oh no, you won't get rid of me that easily. I will doggedly pursue my right to be a government statistic.

However, my friendly, honest JobCentre Plus adviser did agree that the government don't help people that want to get back to work. He's right.

Anyway, the good news, I have an interview tomorrow for a part time-ish job in Hucclecote where the job description is just for some bloke to come and do stuff in the office for 25 hours a week. I can do that. It's got to be better than signing on.

Happy Month-iversary

I spoil you dear reader. This constitutes my second blog in one week, how will you control your excitement? The purpose of this prolificness? The one month anniversary of the very purpose of this blog has recently passed, how could I let the one month-iversary pass uncelebrated? In order to mark this auspicious occasion, I thought I would give you an insight into my deepest thoughts and discoveries that have been spawned from this event.

• Being made redundant is actually no bad thing. Might be a little odd at first reading but if you have got stuck in a rut and need a kick up the proverbial backside to get out of it then it isn't a bad option. Oh, and a few quid to keep you going and supplement the rather meagre Job Seekers Allowance helps.
• Job Seekers Allowance is pants. You don't really have to be a job seeker, just browse the internet from time to time (or at least tell the Jobcentre you have) and you get your cash. What the allowance allows though, I have yet to discover.
• Jobcentre plus I have talked about before. The staff are generally very friendly and helpful if not easily confused by anything out of the ordinary. The name however is one of Her Majesty's Governments's biggest misnomers. It is barely a job centre (there aren't many relevant jobs and the searches are odd at best) and the plus part of the name must be because they had a few letters left over.
• There are a load of jobs out there. Willing to work? Willing to do anything? Not too fussy? Then get off yer arse and do something. Might be temporary or part time but must be more fulfilling than doing jack. And generally pays more unless you are an experienced, trained, scrounger.
• Benefits fraudsters must be some of the hardest working people there are. As an honest claimant, I have spent many an hour and much confusion mulling over the endless forms. Put that much effort into a job and you could make good money. Unless of course you are an experienced, trained, bone idle scrounger.
• Don't even consider doing anything worthwhile or becoming a useful member of society while you are unemployed. Any voluntary or unpaid work will attract more paperwork than you could imagine and a significant amount of doubt from anyone at Jobcentre or other benefit agencies "surely you can't be working for no pay, prove it, show us a payslip". "But I'm not paid". "Prove it, show us a payslip". You get the gist.
• Make the most of it. I have had some good quality time to myself and thoroughly enjoyed taking a wander round the hills. It's also a good time to consider what you really want to do.
• Security guards can be quite scary. And there are lots at the job centre.
• The main purpose of the City centre during the weekday is to provide somewhere for the unemployed, their kids and dogs to hang out and smoke very skinny roll ups. I don't think the dogs actually smoke.
• Month-iversary isn't actually a real word.
• Despite what you will hear, daytime TV isn't actually that bad if you look about. Loose Women is (are?) great.
• Except the adverts, they are truly crap.

Interview update

I know you have all been waiting with bated breath to hear how the interviews from my previous blog went. So the results have now been received on the teleprinter (Dickie Davies, Grandstand for those who remember the football results clicking through Saturday tea time) and it is 1-1.

First chronologically, Royal Mail. Not so much an interview this, I passed the on line tests some days before, they wanted to meet the candidates simply to make sure that we were real, willing, able and legally allowed to work in the country. Not being Albanian and having a full compliment of limbs, I was accepted. I have put my name down for night shift, reckon that should fit in nicely with other stuff that's going on now. It's only a month through December but at least that's a month of not having to go into the dole office, sorry, Jobcentre Plus; I may miss the soap opera that plays out on a fortnightly basis but that's the price you pay.

Second interview was for the NHS, or rather 2gether trust in Occupational therapy and, dear reader, you will remember that I didn't (and don't) know what the job was really for. In fact, I didn't even know it was for 2gether not NHS. Rather enjoyed the interview even so, kind of degenerated into a chat amongst three people that could have been friends for years. The killer question though was "What can you bring to the job". Tricky that one when you don't really know what the job is. Despite that, and despite (no surprise) not being offered the job, the interview feedback was good, so quite encouraging. The irony of it all is that the rejection call came whilst I was whiling my day away waiting for Anthony to have his hand put in plaster following a rugby related injury.

It is a bit of a dilemma though, plan still is to be a driving instructor so a permanent job wouldn't fit in too well, on the other hand, the pay would be good, I could save some of the redundancy that way. Possibly the best result would be a bit of a part time contract. Trouble is I might have to be a bit clever to do that.

And so to the weekend. The near annual Caravan show at the Three Counties show ground. I say we went to the caravan show, that does over egg the pudding somewhat. It's actually a good way of getting a couple of nights cheap pitch for the caravan right at the end of the season and taking the kids to let off some steam in Malvern. Vic and Anthony also joined me on a bimble over British Camp which, if you've never seen it, is a stunning Iron age hill fort to the south of the Malvern ridge.

This year, we have bought a new second hand camera from CEX, which, obviously, is pronounced the sex shop. It's a Nikon, not quite a compact and not quite a DSLR and has become my new toy. I am seeing far too much of life through a lens so I shall bore you rigid with a couple of my pictures from the weekend. I shall now turn into a photographic bore and wobble on about F stops, shutter speeds and ISO numbers. Except that would mean nothing to me either. Heck, I might even go out and buy a tripod.

And, the pride, the very pinnacle of my photographic and post editing software abilities, a panorama of the Malvern ridge.

I shall be taking commissions for these new found, genius, photographic skills.

On the Rock 'n' Roll

Those who know me will be aware that I am now redundant. Recent events combined with a certain amount of time on my hands have convinced me to blog my observations. I do not intend to mull over my redundancy process, that's history and not necessary to repeat. However, I have decided that after working for 20 some odd years, the time has come to bite the bullet and sign on. Some of you may be fortunate to have ever had to go into the dole office - sorry Jobcentre Plus; I have yet to find out what the plus is for, or to that matter what the Jobcentre part refers to. For those who have never tried it, go here and watch from about 1:08 for 10 seconds or so. If you are old enough, you may even remember Boys From The Blackstuff.

So to my experience. Twice now I have visited aforementioned office and twice I have witnessed the marvels of their security; allow me to illustrate:

Visit one, I am behind a woman with two teenage (ish) kids in tow:

Woman: But I haven't got any fookin' money

Jobcentre Guy: Sorry madam, you need to fill in the form and make an appointment

Woman: My kids haven't got any fookin' uniform and they go back tomorrow [you have had six weeks]

Jobcentre Guy: We are unable to give money out without your full co-operation and the correct procedure, you can make an appointment for later today.

I need not go on, in a blaze of fookin', fascist accusations and ripped up forms the woman was bundled out, kids following obediently behind.

I collect requisite forms and leave, meekly.

Visit two, appointment made, two days later, 10am, I return and am behind a Scottish gent surrounded already by more G4S employees than I knew existed.

Security: We are unable to see you in that state sir

Bloke: I have nae bin drinkin'

Security: It appears to us you have sir.

Bloke: Aye well mebbe a wee sip but that's all.

You can imagine this conversation isn't going far, cue bloke gets bundled out. Incidentally, when I left an hour or so later, he is in a heap outside still.

So to my interview. To their credit, Jobcentre Plus staff are, despite all they must put up with, nothing but courteous and friendly. It seems I have two interviews. One to go through my details, this is easy, just paperwork and stuff. The second is my Jobseeker's Agreement. In order to claim Jobseeker's Allowance, I have to prove I am looking for work. To these ends I have half a dozen pieces of paper stapled together on which I write down what I am doing to find a job, there is no further evidence asked of me, trusting or what? I have promised to do three things each WEEK to try and find a job. Without breaking my agreement, that could be:

Monday - Log onto Glosjobs.co.uk or similar and decide there is nothing

Tuesday - Have a shufty at the computer thingies in Jobcentre plus, after all I might as well, I have to go to sign on.

Wednesday - Quick butchers at the job section in the Citizen.

That's it, another busy week, best take the next four days off.

I will need a new booklet thingy next time sign on....

Finally, I though that I would use my dead time to become a useful member of society, after all it's about time so I thought some charity work might be in order; but no, whoah there. If I work, even unpaid for more than sixteen hours a week I'm entiltled to nothing, nill, nada, zilch. The reason - it means I am not available for work, still makes sense, after all most of the week they have got me on my toes looking for work.

Just remind me why there are so many long term employed?

I have been considering my next career move, but that's another post.