The Players

I got an internship thanks to some much needed nepotism, my CV is quite scarce. The interview was so informal; it seemed more like a formality, really. It took place in one of their offices with my soon-to-be boss, her boss and my sister. When they invited my sister to sit in we both looked at each other with that 'what the fuck expression?'. Thinking back, that look could have been because she was off in la-la land on account of the cold/flu that had been going around the family. She looked like hell that day, so she donned on some sunglasses - thanks to the freakishly warm English summer - and the simplest maxi she could find. I escaped relatively unscathed with a brief cough. It went by really quickly, but that might have been because I was still in shock about my sister sitting in. You see, I had a plan. I had questions to ask and things to tell them. That all went to hell though.

On the first day of work I was introduced to the players, like one of those crime capers where you get a rag-tag team of crude but skillful crooks trying to get their biggest score. There's the Boss Lady; tall and as friendly as you'd expect your boss to be. She has a continental accent but I still haven't been able to figure out her origins. She was lovely at my interview but as a general rule I try not to look her directly in the eye - it's been a habit of mine since primary school to limit eye-contact with persons of authority. The Kooky; she's my boss, she's great, she's funny, she's mad about the World Cup - a person after my heart. As a general rule don't ask her to explain how to do anything, ever - you can see her mind bouncing around like an energised bunny. She's the only one in the office who wears heels, which I have to applaud her for. I only wear heels at home, on my carpet for like 5 minutes at a time (just to show off to my sisters how much smaller my feet are then theirs and why I have inherited mum's vintage shoes instead of them, haha. (A bit off topic, hihi).

The rest of the gang have small but important roles in my education, there's the Jeweller; a fan of all things animal print, he's amusing and a wonderfully eccentric - in his fashion sense - Italian. I worked with him for the first week because Kooky hadn't received her stock. I didn't know that I would love bags and jewels sooooo much but I really, really do; I've been using the same bag for like 4 years, so you can tell how much importance I normally place on accessories. Maria the Nun; outspoken (very much so) and has a wacky dress sense that I can very much appreciate. The Brazilian; an avid fan of my hair, whenever I walk in without the curly fro he shouts in his accent 'Why you not doing your hair?!'. And last but not least the Man; he's really easy going and cordial but there's more to him than meets the eye... but that's for later.

Oh, and a big Fuck You to the Jobcentre ^_^

Me... an Officer... hhmmmm

I had to laugh. I'm not that fussed, anymore, about the things the jobcentre makes me do. I just tried to apply for a job as an Applicant Enquiries Officer at a university. Me. I had to do the standard registration thingy; the first question they asked was: Do you have A levels? So I answer YES, then they ask: Do you have any customer service experience in student applications? or something like that. It was one of those questions that everything hinges on, I could tell, and so I answered NO. 'I can not tell a lie'. It quickly takes me to another page with a message saying: 'Unfortunately you have not proceeded any further'... blah, blah, blah. Gee, I didn't see that one coming. I had to laugh. The job offered a £23,000-26,000 salary. Why would any employer in their right mind give me that much money, knowing that I have no customer service experience and that my last job was as a sales assistant in year 9 on my work experience. I had to laugh. Hehe.

In between being Pissed Off

I was waiting to be probed about not applying for that crappy job... no wait, those crappy jobs.

Guy at Jobcentre: Are you Muslim?

Me: No. What?Huh?Why?

Guy: Then why is your head covered.

Me: I'm a black girl. I have a hairstyle I don't want to expose the general public to. (reference I Am Not My Hair) You're black too, should I be explaining this to you?

Guy: Oh. Understanding nod, he's been around a lot of black girls

Me: I'm not religious.

Guy: Why? You don't believe in God?

Me: I don't believe God is all-loving. I don't think about God in my everyday life... I don't believe anything will happen because I faith in God like they say I should... and I don't believe things happen because of God.

Guy: Oh, okay. Uh oh, went overboard

Guy: I have a theory about that: there is no original thought/idea, everything is based on the previous. And at the previous there is God. He's definitely been waiting a while to tell someone this.

Our conversation was interrupted by my case worker who told me I could go home. I do believe in God, I just don't believe the pretty omnipresent, omniscient, omnipotent and all-loving God. Not when things like The Tsunami and Haiti happens. Yes, I believe that there is a God, but I believe it cares about me as much as I care about it. Negligible.

I didn't see that one comin'

I went to the jobcentre again today for my weekly appointment. I was almost late because I'd just engulfed the porkball soup my mother made with the cheddar scone my sister made. You know how you get all sleepy after a good meal. I think it's because of the heat released when you're breaking it down in your stomach. Anyway I couldn't help it, I wanted to have a nap, a siesta. I had been re-reading Frank Herbert's Dune, but my lids were heavy, really heavy; the type of heavy that would make you read the same sentence at least 3 times. I decided to give it a rest and instead concentrate on the Judge Judy episode, it was just getting good when the shutters came down, DRAT. It was around 11.15 when I fell asleep and my jobcentre appointment was at 11.50, this had to be a quickie. I vaguely remember Judge Judy going off on some idiot teenager accused of harassing another teenager. I woke up at 11.45 which gave me just enough time to walk over to that place. I had to hustle but I got out of the house in time.

The thing that bugs me about the jobcentre is that everything related is just as fucked up as the jobcentre itself. Even the route to the jobcentre is littered with shit, literally, there's dog shit all along the pathway, like breadcrumbs leading the way. Not any old dog shit mind you, it was the kind others, less conscious than I, had stepped into and smeared along the path in an attempt to remove the shit. So to recap, I have to walk under the underpass which is littered with shit, chicken bones and every piece of crap you can think of to get to the jobcentre. And thanks to the diligently crappy English weather, it was too dark to see were I was going. Not to mention my really shitty eyesight, even with my glasses. If you saw me from afar you'd think I was playing hop scotch with all the side stepping I had to do.

I got to the jobcentre and went upstairs to wait for my case worker. That changes pretty regularly but I recognised this guy, I'd had him before (not in the creepy way it sounds). He was bald, no vestiges of the hair follicles he rocked during the 60's. He had a goatee though, stubbled with grey hairs and glasses. I think they were one of those frameless ones, but to tell you the truth I wasn't paying that much attention. I try to go in and out as quickly as possible, if I'm too attentive I have to stay there longer. I still wanted to make it back for the rest of Judge Judy.  

Him: So how are your job searches going?

Me: Fine.  Keep the answers short

Him: Mmm...aahhhhh...hh  Doing that annoying mumbling thing again 

Him: Did you apply for these jobs?

Me: No, I forgot.  Hurry up

Him: So... aahhmmmhh... you didn't apply?

Me: No. I forgot.  Redundant

Him: Mmmmhhhhh...aaaaaaahhhh  Uh oh, that's an extra long 'mmh'

Him: Excuse me.

So he left for a while, I thought he was printing off some job searches for me, but to my surprise he comes back with a form. An official form for me to fill in and sign explaining why I didn't apply. It's not like I didn't do any job searches, I just didn't do those ones. I'm very much a fan of the expression 'beggars can't be choosers', I'm not at the stage in my life where I'm a beggar so I ain't gonna do some crappy job just cause they shove it in my face. He made me wait for some guy to interview me about why I didn't apply. I'm really pissed off. I missed Judge Judy.

The picture says it all.

My year in exile's taking it's toll on me. I just went to the job centre, I despise the job centre. I really do. They give me 50 quid a week, but it's not like I need it, I'm luckier than most because I have a lovely mother. I only go because I don't want to burden her too much. But... it's taking it's toll on me. I feel like I'm ready to go but... I'm stuck. And frustrated... and I can't breathe. Today's not so good.