"They Call Me The Jobseeker...

...I've been searching low and high. I won't get to get what I'm after, till the day I die"

Which seems a bit too long to me. As today I officially started the long and arduous mission of completing a JobSeekers benefit application. Yes, its a bit defeatist. And I may be claiming when I've done nothing to contribute to society, but Mum told me to, so I have to do it.

We went down to Bridgwater (since Burnhams JobCentre has closed, thank you very much Mr Brown...) and had to join a queue. I'm British, so I like a good queue. There were things to look at, leaflets to organise in a manner which would most annoy the supervisor, and touchscreen job-finding computers.

So there we were, queuing and waiting, everyone having a lovely time, when out of the blue, I'm up! I explain my current predicament (searching for a job, wishing to claim JobSeekers...) and I was handed a pamphlet. Now, I'm not a huge fan of pamphlets at the best of times, but it had been a reasonably long journey from my bed to Bridgy Job office, only to be confronted by a woman who clearly had an appointment book with vacant spaces big enough to build on, only she would prefer if I make an appointment. That's what I was there to do! All I had for my troubles was a piece of paper with a phone number on it. Apparently it is no longer good enough to be somewhere in person, you now have to call in advance, essentially making an appointment to make an appointment.

Everything's alright though. The government now has my details, and I'm waiting for them to get back to me, when they'll make a 40 minute phone call to confirm everything I've told them is correct. I may get that £40 a week, but that'll have to go towards paying for the procedures treating the cancer all this phone radiation is going to give me.

Boje