Our parents had free education, fat pensions, and second homes. We’ve got student debt and a property ladder with rotten rungs. Thanks very much, says Andrew Hankinson, BScLast week a man in the jobcentre handed me a letter summoning me to a Back to Work session – come on! Back to work! Break’s over! A week later, I sit on a blue settee and wait to be called into a meeting room. A man with a goatee beard and ponytail sits on the blue settee opposite. He’s reading a book. To my left is another man on another blue settee, reading a newspaper. I flick through some notes. We share the daunted look of the new unemployed. I look at a poster on the wall – “You can find a job” – next to a picture of an ecstatic woman. Finally, the three of us are ushered into a room. The man who was reading the newspaper claims he attended a session last week and is immediately excused. Smart move. Two of us remain. A few minutes later a third claimant/loafer/tax thief enters. There were supposed to be 12 of us – damn buses and slow shoes. I sit with a bundle of government leaflets in my lap and one of the three staff members explains the Job Vacancy Pie. It’s impressive – a big chart showing where the jobs are. Hidden, apparently. No longer advertised. We should ask contacts instead, or come to the recruitment drives by the armed services and the new Morrisons down the road.”We can also help with business plans,” a man in a beige suit adds, “though whether you’d be thinking of that in this climate, I don’t know.” Continue reading…
Source : theguardian.com
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