As the number of letters from potential employers containing the words, “…despite your obvious potential, we regret to have to inform you that…” piles up and the amount of freelance work that I brought with me from Germany decreases, the idea of following the advice of my local Morrison’s financial advisor (Reason 237: Bigotry at the checkout) and getting some free money from whatever the DHSS is now called obviously appeals.
Actually, it doesn’t appeal one little bit, I’d like to look after myself, thank you very much, but the thought that keeps nagging in my mind is that, “I’ve paid tax and national insurance, why shouldn’t I claim some of it back? After all, I have no qualms about claiming tax rebates.” So, having made an appointment, I set off for some ritual humiliation in return for whatever I’d get pro rata out of 57 pounds a week.
Alas, I am too rich. Far, far, far too rich. In the terms means testing are set, I am fantastically, disgustingly rich; I reek of the stench of huge bundles of freshly printed, high-denomination banknotes; I’m wallowing in huge quantities of delicious moolah. In terms of what it says on my bank statement, I have £2.32.
But how can this be? I hear no one ask. Well to quote the information leaflet I was given (which is dated 2004), I must “have less than £8,000 in capital” this however, “does not include the home where you live, cars, furniture or other personal possessions (good). It does include any savings, investments or other property you own (less good).”
I don’t own a car or the house I live in, and as a result of moving countries, I have few personal possessions. Incredibly foolishly however, rather than spending money on consumer durables and expensive foreign holidays, I’ve been putting money into private pensions, life insurance and other long-term investments. How utterly, utterly stupid of me. It’s the State’s job to look after you, but you must be its bitch and submit utterly - none of this long-term thinking for yourself nonsense. Of course, I could liquidate all those assets (obviously forfeiting any bonuses), buy a very large car and suckle at the teat of the state for the rest of my natural life. Admittedly, having 11 children (preferably disabled), an equally disabled partner to claim carer’s benefit for, and absolutely fuck-all self-respect seem to be required to make it worthwhile. For the moment, however, I think not.
Phrase to practice for the future: “Would you like fries with that?”
How articulate you get when you’re angry…
Do I detect a hint of sarcasm?
Hark at him with the new template.
I once visited one of those Job Centre places when I returned from abroad and was officially only a visiting student at university for a term before my status got back to normal. Oddly, I was shouted at by a wicked German woman who worked in the Camden Town branch. I didn’t bother claiming anything, and just went back to living on champagne and gold sandwiches, which I’d been doing before anyway.
BiB: Surely changing the blog template is the first thing to do as a step towards becoming a member of the long-term unemployed. Another few weeks and I’ll be reading Sartre, learning Japanese and playing online chess.
Of course, on the plus side, now I don’t have to go and mix with those ghastly people at the Job Centre every two weeks. I don’t think my sensibilities could cope with regularly seeing so many of one’s fellow man wearing so much polyester in such a small room. Ah well, at least I won’t starve, as the gamekeeper has done a good job of keeping the Estate well-stocked.
Your blog is very interesting, even though I am not.
I could have told you that. Guess what happens if you eke out life as a student so you can put your student loan into an ISA (what? The government keep trumpeting that it’s interest free - in a purely governmental sense of course). Unfortunately the Jobcentre people refuse to admit that anything administered by the Student Loans Company can possibly be a loan, and thus my net worth was not negative.
I should have just done what the other inhabitants of the office obviously did, and wear my life savings on my sleeve (or ear, or neck). Although I did seriously consider just buying some hefty chunk of art, but I’m not sure it would have out-performed the SLC’s interest rates.
But apart from the failed monetary policy, the sole response from I got from the Jobcentre was to be asked if I had any catering experience, and told that I ought to train as a chef. Yep, a chef who can point out the xylem and phloem in broccoli and extract the DNA from a mango. If they wanted I could probably do a working model of the Krebs Cycle using only cucumber, cherry tomatoes and olives (and perhaps some capers).
Freddie L. Sirmans: No, it is your blog which is interesting. In comparison to your words, mine are but the pitiful, demented rantings of a wildly deranged individual. Sir, I salute you!
Anyhoo:Hurrah! It is not only me! I am sure you are pleased to learn that your misfortune brings joy to my heart! I have heard, perhaps apocryphal, stories that SLC “debts” cannot be annulled through personal declarations of bankruptcy, either.
And you’ve spoilt the second part of my tale now, the bit where they take your abilities (doctorate, language skills and so on) and create a tailored search profile for the job in their massive database of over 400,000 vacancies that is most suited to you. For me it is, apparently: A part-time snooker table cleaner - 3hrs (7-10 a.m.) per day, 7 days per week. In Nottingham. Minimum wage. But hey! Everyone has to start somewhere…
That’s the same shit I found myself in when a returned to the UK after a 5 year stint working abroad. Very soon my main mission was to get out of the UK again. That’s how I ended up in Germany. I like England, I was born there, my family lives there, I like to visit, but I’ll be buggered if I’ll live there!
Welcome to my world. No wait, i’m from a “third world country” - so even if i did not have a single investment to my name i could not “suckle at the teat of the state”. for even part of my life!
i know this is an awfull patch… but i know you will get through it. (and you could call back you know, it is after the 22nd now)
Haddock: “Very soon my main mission was to get out of the UK again.”
I can completely understand, and it’s a conclusion I’m rapidly approaching too..
One used to be able to go bankrupt to clear student loans, but the government noticed an astounding number of people in the 18-24 bracket were declaring themselves insolvent, and so stopped it.
And perhaps the instructions for the baize-sweeper are in German so no one else can work it (does Germany have snooker?).
Maybe you should move to Canada?
I recommend online scrabble instead of online chess. The chat’s awfully good. Strangely, the site I use is based in Romania, but the players ALL come from Sunderland.