On The Dole aka Losing The Will To Live

Unemployment is like a vice slowly squeezing the spirit out of me. I feel like my soul has been ripped from my chest, hurled at the floor and stamped on until nothing remains but a bloodstain. The crushing tedium of applying for jobs which I suspect don’t even exist in the first place is suffocating. The response rate (approximately one application in ten garners a reply) is heartbreaking. Each rejection is a kick in the face.

I am intelligent, educated, erudite and adaptable. I communicate well. I look the part. I’m confident I could learn just about any new role quickly and efficiently. I can multi-task and manage people. I lead by example and work quickly. I understand things and can explain complicated theories in simple terms. I can use most Microsoft programs ably. I read faster than Johnny Five and still manage to retain the information. My academic achievements are a rival for anyone. My CV looks great (if I do say so myself). I get things done. Yet nobody is interested in me.

The recession/downturn/whatever-the-appropriate-term-for-it-is-this-week has bitten harder in West Yorkshire than anywhere else. Dockside flats become ever cheaper, building on the new city-centre shopping centre has ground to a halt and the queues at the job centre grow longer than the dark shadows which loom over Leeds.

Surely the light at the tunnel should be that I want to work? It’s cruel to stereotype people, but the majority of people in the Job Centre look like they’re incapable of tying their own shoelaces and have as much will-to-work as a three-toed sloth with a glue habit. Every other Monday I’m asked what I’ve been doing to search for employment and on each occasion my 'interviewer' has looked at me agog – they’re amazed that I’ve done anything at all. They slide the appropriate form across the desk which I sign before they grunt that they’ll see me in two weeks – offering not a hint of advice without a modicum of interest. If that’s all it takes to earn the princely sum of £64.30 a week it’s little wonder that people can’t be arsed to find a job.

I’ve never been famed for my jolly outlook and joie de vivre, but my cynicism has never been more acute. My outlook has never been so downbeat. I wake up at 8am every day and try to instil some routine into my life. I try to eat healthily on my meagre income. I try to enjoy the things that have always made me happy and I’ve been lucky to benefit from a credit line which was extended to me prior to my redundancy. But living for the weekend when your week is so empty feels both ridiculous and pointless. And the credit cards and overdrafts won’t last forever...

Bill Clinton:
I do not believe we can repair the basic fabric of society until people who are willing to work have work. Work organizes life. It gives structure and discipline to life.