Job Seekers
At the job seekers centre, the staff seem to spend their time shuffling piles of paper, pen-pushing, making lists as long as The Great Wall Of China, and printing off mountains of forms, notes and letters from the beleaguered printer. They type with furious concentration into their computers, as if what they are doing is going to save the world.
At one of my appointments, the staff lady addressed me as Kathleen. I’m not Kathleen. Yesterday, she got out my notes, well I should say someone else’s notes, and started going through them. The name on the top page wasn’t mine and it wasn’t poor old Kathleen’s either. After a while I mentioned that those notes had someone else’s name (in large print too). The staff lady quipped that she didn’t know if she was coming or going. At least she got something right.
One time I phoned to say I was unable to come in and the staff lady said, that’s okay. Next day her colleague phoned to ask why I was not at my appointment.
I receive print-outs with confusing advice about job-seeking. Who-ever typed it must have missed out a few important words. I asked one of them, what does it mean? She didn’t know but didn’t seem interested in clearing up the mystery.
One staff member laughs like a cackling chook with painful haemorrhoids. Her colleague has such a cheerily fake voice that every time she sings ‘Bye. Have a great afternoon’, as someone exits the place, I want to shove her smile to the back of her head.
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