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clo_againAm on hold with Enquiries at the Job Centre. On hold, again. Because of one more reason why-
Oh no, they just answered. And told me I needed to call my own job centre. Which I just did - and they gave me the number for Enquiries, who just gave me the number for my job centre that I called in the first place.
And all this because, even though my only fault is apparently being overqualified but under experienced so no one wants to give me a job, I have to fill out fucking paperwork to be allowed to leave the area for *one sodding week*. I feel like I'm a criminal on parole. Jesus fucking christ. I'm one step away from telling them to stick their free money up their arses, only I won't because *that's what they're hoping people will do.*
And I have to have an extra appointment next time I sign on too. Because even though I read that the average job search takes between three and ten months, apparently thirteen weeks is a line I've crossed that marks me out as a lazy, useless layabout. Because I'm sorry but after three years of a degree, which this government insists people need, I refuse to work in a fucking carpet shop. Which was one of the vacancies the delightful job centre offered me last time, along with a bakers after I specifically told them I would not work with food, and a shop in the next city. Where my travel costs would almost overtake my wages.
What I need right now, is a call from Waterstones to say I can have a Christmas job. Because I'd love to work there, and because if I can't get a job *in a bookshop* when I have *an English degree*, then I'm going to quit and go live under a bridge for the rest of my life.
Oh no, they just answered. And told me I needed to call my own job centre. Which I just did - and they gave me the number for Enquiries, who just gave me the number for my job centre that I called in the first place.
And all this because, even though my only fault is apparently being overqualified but under experienced so no one wants to give me a job, I have to fill out fucking paperwork to be allowed to leave the area for *one sodding week*. I feel like I'm a criminal on parole. Jesus fucking christ. I'm one step away from telling them to stick their free money up their arses, only I won't because *that's what they're hoping people will do.*
And I have to have an extra appointment next time I sign on too. Because even though I read that the average job search takes between three and ten months, apparently thirteen weeks is a line I've crossed that marks me out as a lazy, useless layabout. Because I'm sorry but after three years of a degree, which this government insists people need, I refuse to work in a fucking carpet shop. Which was one of the vacancies the delightful job centre offered me last time, along with a bakers after I specifically told them I would not work with food, and a shop in the next city. Where my travel costs would almost overtake my wages.
What I need right now, is a call from Waterstones to say I can have a Christmas job. Because I'd love to work there, and because if I can't get a job *in a bookshop* when I have *an English degree*, then I'm going to quit and go live under a bridge for the rest of my life.
