The Walk Of Shame/The Jobcentre Experience
It was only my second visit there today, and I’m already referring to it as ‘The Walk Of Shame’.
It feels wrong walking around on the streets during normal working hours. I imagine everyone who sees me knows I’m a bum without a job. Jaunting around the place whilst their taxes fund my perceived drug, alcohol and tracksuit habits.
The last time in the Jobcentre was interesting. The whole place stinks of bad attitudes. Whilst sat waiting to see an advisor a Single Mum wheeled her pushchair up next to me and sat down. Out of the corner of my eye I could see the young kid in there was shedding flaking pasty all over the place from the food tray across his pushchair, as she occasionally admonished him without doing anything about the mess.
Urgh, have some pride! I’d never even think to walk into a carpeted office eating ANY food – let alone something like that! And this is to see the people who are giving you money?!
Today I got an even bigger treat.
I was sat listening to someone slouched in his chair opposite the advisor, who’d spent five minutes giving her attitude about how he couldn’t possibly do the required three things per week to find work (Note these is literally things like “Looked in the local paper” or “Told my mate I was looking for work”), until she finally gave up and said she was referring him to someone else to see if he’d still get paid – at which point he did a total u-turn and insisted he hadn’t said he’d done nothing and WAS looking…
As I waited, trying my best not to stare at the stunning range of tracksuits on show, someone walked out past me balancing his open can of Skol Super on his hand.
You have GOT to be shitting me?!
I looked around to see if anyone else was looking, but not even any of the advisors batted an eyelid! So this is normal for people, is it? You go to sign on at Midday already supping on strong lager as you tell them you’re not having much luck finding work?
When I was called over for my appointment to the same advisor I’d been watching have a hard time I greeted her politely – Heaven help me if I wasn’t FRIENDLY, even!
It made her smile.
This was a Good Thing.
I wonder if I should get myself a nice tracksuit for next time, so I can fit in a bit more?
Maybe I’ll walk in tooting on a crack pipe, too…