Whenever I am nervous, I dress to kill. Today, that could be quite literal, as I am doing an Emma Peel (think Diana Rigg in The Avengers) and stride into the JC with head held high for my 3-month review. The welcoming committee consists of Mr In-Tray, with two (repeat, two) young security guards lolling up against the desk. They brighten considerably at the sight of my black-skinnies whilst Mr In-Tray scowls a disapproving look. I am directed to the Mysterious First Floor.
There are two of us in the holding pen, sorry, waiting area. I am early and spend ten minutes observing Man Mountain laughing and joking with a female member of staff. This charming cabaret lasts until it's time for my interview and she calls my name.
Alison* is all business-like with me. The switch from jolly colleague to stern school-marm is marked, and sets the tone nicely. We review the Job Seekers Agreement, which is where I confirm I will do a minimum number of activities on a weekly basis, in return for my JS Allowance. Confident that I far exceed the minimum quota, I relax as we discuss my job searching methods.
I score an own-goal when I confess I don't use the JC's own website for job searching. This is a typically clunky government vehicle, with none of the flexibility and functionality of the very many commercial sites I use. Despite this argument, my reluctance to consult the government's own site appears to be a Big Deal.
We chat about the kind of roles I am applying for and Alison points out that the 'required salary' on my JC record may have to be adjusted downwards as time goes on. This is a moot point as far as I am concerned. I have already made it clear that the roles I am applying for are at half the package I was on before and I'm cool about that. So, Gallic shrug.
I sense this frustrates Alison and she launches into a school-marmish finger wagging episode where she makes it clear that if I come back for a 6-month review, she will be adjusting the required salary down to the National Minimum Wage and I'll have to accept any job I am offered on that or it's counted as a 'refusal'. It's as if there is a script for this review and irrespective of my individual situation, the script must be read through.
This is depressing, but I am impassive. Three months in the system and I'm becoming attuned to DWP policy, both in substance and delivery.
We move onto the applications I have been making, which far exceed the required minimum. Having given me a hard time earlier, I insist that Alison looks at my file of applications, which is the size and weight of a breeze block and makes a satisfying thump as it lands on her desk. I hadn't lumped it all the way there for fun and it was damn well going to be seen.
I notice the fellow wastrel at the next desk has brought nothing with him for 'show and tell'. Despite that, his advisor is laughing and smiling encouragingly. Good thing too as he seems a bit depressed and just wrings his hands saying there are no suitable jobs out there. He looks like a professional man at a complete loss as to how to deal with the situation he finds himself in.
The breeze block pacifies Alison and she thaws a little. She completes the formalities and presents me with my updated JS Agreement, which will see me through to the 6-month review. After that, what? After that, it seems, there is no more JS Allowance. Full stop. So, living the high life, courtesy of the tax-payer is apparently only available to.....well, quite a lot of the great unwashed, according to the Daily Mail. I don't quite see how they get away with it. There must be an entire underground dedicated to advising serial shirkers how to milk the system for long-term benefit. I clearly don't move in the right circles.
*Name has been changed
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