A Voice of Reason Amongst the Madness

It's such a little thing. Miniscule. Microscopic.

I have been summoned for my ritual humiliation interview (sorry, 6-month review) next Tuesday, 9.40am, no less. For those in the know, me before 11am is not pretty. I need buckets of caffeine to even focus. But this is not the problem.

The issue is that my usual signing-on day is Monday, at 3.45pm. It seems a waste of everyone's time (mine in particular) to insist on going in two days running. Not to mention the long weekend I have planned.

Now, in the real world, asking to combine the two appointments would be a no-brainer. Particularly as I am, ahem, the customer. No, don't laugh. It's the only environment I know where the customer is regarded, on the whole, as vermin. And I have already experienced what being 2 minutes late means, let alone not going at all.

So, a phone call. Call centre hell, here I come. Lee sounds like a decent chap, if not quite fulfilled by his career choice. But after several repeats of the JC name, followed by me spelling it out, I get put through. The 'phone rings for a long time, but I settle in for the wait. I know the 'phone ringing at my JC is regarded as an irritant that's best ignored, but I am determined.

My Guardian Angel is on the case. Kate answers. Considering the range of dreadful options I could have had, this is a wonderful fluke. I say who I am and Kate (bless her) knows who she's talking to. I ask her if she received my fulsome e-mail on the outsourcing agents she requested and she confesses, yes, she has, but has not read it properly yet. Feeling a little Quid Pro Quo moment coming on, I put my dilemma to Kate and wait.

There is a pause, but I have learned a lot about playing the long game with the JC. An issue that I would impatiently chivvy along as minor in the real world is left hanging, as issues like this are Very Serious in DWP-land. I try to project a smile into the silence. (Think, appeasing chimpanzee simper).

Kate finally concedes that, yes, it does seem a bit daft coming in both days, going so far as to comment that the DWP really doesn't do joined-up like it should. I could kiss her. Except it's bound to be against their 'no fraternising' policy. They must have one, somewhere. She makes the required note on my file.

I replace the receiver with a contented smile. I can go forth on my long weekend in bracing Filey without worrying about racing home for my irrelevant Monday appointment.

Four days of salty sea air beckons and I can't wait.