You want humiliation with that?

I have seized the day. Grasped the nettle. I am full of purpose.

Job Centre Day has been spent writing tailored speculative applications to 17 various organisations. I am so focussed and determined to get them in the post today I have to hare out of the house, pick my way as fast as I dare through the slushy streets and walk-trot to the JC, falling through the door two minutes past my appointment time. Greeting the lady on door-step duty with a cheery 'Happy New Year' I hand over my clocking-in papers and proceed to the waiting area. Whilst waiting, I take out the last of the envelopes to be hand written and busy myself getting the addresses right.

I sense someone at my side and it's Door Step Lady. "Miss X?" Yes? She clears her throat to make sure her voice carries to the farthest point of the packed waiting area. "You are actually a couple of minutes late for your appointment." I must have looked confused. Door Step Lady helps me out. "We will still see you" (said with the most grudging tone) "but I do have to point out that you were a couple of minutes late." Stunned silence as she turns on her heel and departs. No-one dares meet my eyes. Everyone has theirs cast down to the floor. There is something horribly uncomfortable seeing someone else utterly humiliated, but at the same time, total relief that it wasn't you.

I am stunned. Had I not had my lap full of envelopes and applications I might have leapt up and pursued her back to her post. But I don't, and I suspect that it is a sign of my eroding confidence that I accept this petty, public dressing-down without a word.

Eva is not there (again). I see a different trainee, who, ironically, apologises for keeping me waiting. She is delightful, but only just out of school. So, when she smiles encouragingly and asks "How's the job search going, then?" I feel an utter weariness at having to explain what I have been doing. She notes the 17 speculative applications and tells me I'm being wonderfully pro-active, then approves my JS Allowance for another two weeks.

I ask about the progress of the SL2JP form, the magical golden ticket to the specialist agency. It has been a month since this was raised and I am concerned about the delay. It's all in-hand, apparently, and I must be patient.

On the way home I post all the freshly stamped applications.

I feel totally demotivated. Furious with myself for not having a quiet word with Door Step Lady about how to speak to people like adults. A large Monty Python-esque foot has descended though the clouds and squashed me underfoot, and I'm suddenly very tired.