With one interview result down, and one to go, I felt rather optimistic Friday morning as I headed to the dreaded consultation with the twit at the Job Centre. I know it’s not their fault that they are less than anything when you go and ask for advice. I even said that I didn’t appreciate being treated like a benefit cheat just because I had been forced (by circumstances beyond my control) to claim what I had paid in for, but he just shrugged and said that this is the way they do things now. I guess, I think personally, it would help me feel a little better, if they actually did something about benefit cheats (you know, actually removed their ability to claim for something they are no longer entitled to) but that’s just my view and I am not part of the establishment so have no control over what is done.
Anyway, armed with the knowledge that I still had to hear about one job I sat waiting for my meeting with the so-called careers advisor (that they have the gall to call them that when they do nothing but say “so what have you applied for this fortnight” is a joke). Just before I was called to the desk I got a ping on my email. I should have known that, it being an email, it wasn’t going to be the best news. I came a ‘close second’ and they would ‘like to keep my details on file.’ So that was that.
I sat down with the man who’s meant to help me and just burst into tears. The meeting went as well as a meeting like that can (with them failing to admit that they are useless) and me feeling like a tonne of sewage that was unwanted but didn’t go far enough out to sea when pumped from the waste station. I felt so low that I barely noticed when I stepped out in front of a bus as I went to cross the road. Guess I am ‘lucky’ the brakes worked well. I was so numb. I had, against all advice, stuck all my eggs in one basket and just like that they were a sticky orange and snot-textured mess on the floor at my feet (such a pretty image, right).
Today I did another job search, even though I only have to do it five days a week. I found a job that I am basically made for (even has my old job title), the only thing I don’t like about it is the location, Burgess Hill. Very near my old workplace, a crappy and expensive train journey (on unreliable trains – seriously if anyone wants a laugh about incompetence at any point, you really have to look up Southern Trains in the UK). Oh well, whatever happens, it won’t be until Monday…and then I actually have something to look forward to.
Monday is Darcy day. I get to pick up my little princess, cuddle her, spoil her rotten with the food I have purchased and the toys I have put together, and the large bed that will no longer be full of just me and my starfish sleeping habits. I am so looking forward to seeing her again, she’s my snuggle bunny (albeit in kitten form) and she is going to make my home complete (and hopefully give me so much to focus on that rejection doesn’t pain me in the way it has been over the last few weeks, though two in two days really does take the cake).
Well, as they say (and many have), tomorrow is another day, and I just need to get on with it. I am stronger than this, it’s only been six weeks, and I can get another job; it might not be exactly what I want, but it will pay the bills and mean that I don’t have to go fortnightly cap in hand to someone who looks upon me as pitiful, pathetic and lower than his shoe because I am out of work (something I have only been once in 24 years).
Hope you are all well, and enjoying the weekend (and hope that wherever you are the weather is better than it is here, gales, rain, grey skies – isn’t it meant to be summer?).
I have changed my mantra from “you are good enough” to “it will happen.” And it will, I honestly believe that, it will happen, not only because it has to, but because I am working so bloody hard to make it so.