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Archive for the ‘diary’ Category

While I’m ranting abut the general incompetencies of the whole Job Centre set up  -  it’s almost Orwellian doublespeak – they don’t deal with jobs, and with the best will in the world, they really aren’t equipped to deal with people seeking more senior roles.

Anyway, this week (a week when the long term jobless reached its highest level since 1997) I was seen by my ‘personal advisor’ – I’ve seen five different ‘personal advisors’ in nine months.

This one’s a good one, she can actually read without moving her lips which is more than most can.

While I was there I inquired if I could alter my signing time to something that’s not mid-morning.

She managed to change my signing time to 10am, hardly early doors, but better.

“Of course you won’t be seeing me” she said. “They’re letting me go at the end of February.”

Okay, we knew that job cuts would have to hit the public sector eventually, after all the public sector is larger now than at any time in the past, and simply isn’t affordable, but laying off jobcentre staff at a time of recession?

Oh, I was forgetting, we’re not in a recession any more, the economy grew by 0.1% last quarter didn’t it?

Didn’t it?

Several months ago I was called to see a Jobcentre ’specialist’ as I had been unemployed for six months. This involved some pressure to take part in ‘back to work’ training to improve my general employability.

The list included Electrical Appliance Testing, Health and Safety and various other subjects. I though that Health and Safety training was most useful for my future and so I ticked the appropriate box.

A few weeks ago I was summoned to my local college, it’s half term so clearly they utilise the facilities for the long term unemployed.

I arrived early, loaned my pen to a fellow delegate who was clearly poorly prepared, and then (when he had returned my fountain pen) proceeded to complete the appropriate paperwork.

After a while the tutor came and looked and my form. She checked my experience… twenty five years IT Project Management experience… HR systems Implementation, Credit Card Security…

“Why are you here?” She asked.

“It’s a Health and Safety Course.” I replied. “I was told to attend.”

“This is a course to allow you to get a CSCS Card, which allows you to work on a building site.”

“But I’ve never been on a building site.”

At which point the woman sitting next to me piped up

“Nor have I. I want to work as a classroom assistant. AND I’ve travelled twenty five miles to get here.”

The tutor thought for a moment.

“Well, I don’t really think this course is appropriate for your needs… you don’t need to stay if you don’t want to.”

Once again… you couldn’t make it up… and sadly we’re all paying for this incompetence.

As I’ve said before, I’ve resisted from posting an unemployment blog as it would get too depressing – “I applied for 45 jobs this week and not one recruitment consultant has had the decency to acknowledge my application” but sometime life gets beyond the pale.

Seriously you couldn’t make it up!

A few weeks ago I went to the jobcentre for my fortnightly ritual humiliation. I

don’t actually get any benefits (as opposed to the builders and plasterers who leave their pick up trucks running on the yellow lines outside), but you have to jump through the government’s hoops. Anyway, I arrived on time at 9 am – early doors – and sat adjacent to where my files where located.

For the next seven minutes I sat listening to the highly qualified staff discussing what they should put on their time-sheets for the previous day, as they left early because of the ‘heavy snow’.

Finally I was called to my ‘advisor’ who observed that I’d applied for a lot of jobs, and then started to clatter away at the keyboard, then sigh and hit the backspace button repeatedly.

She then counted on her fingers a few times, typed something else and then, after another sigh, hit the backspace button and tried again. She looked at me and explained. “I need a new password, it’s all very secure.”

After about five minutes she said “leave it with me, and I’ll make sure I update your details.”

“No.” I explained. “I have to get an insurance form signed, so this needs to be updated.”

Another sigh, some jotting on a post-it note and some more clattering on they keyboard.

Finally, after another few minutes she was able to process my details.

“It’s all very secure,” she explained, “it needs a certain number of letters and numbers.”

“All very secure, providing you remember it tomorrow.” I observed.

“Oh, it’s okay.” She replield. “I’ve made a not of it!”

Seriously – you couldn’t make it up.

This week’s announcements that Dubai is suffering financial hardship probably generated more than a little schadenfreude in the struggling economies of the west.

A couple of years ago we visited Dubai, (some pictures here) staying at the wonderful Madinat Jumeirah complex. We were so impressed with the atmosphere and service that we returned within the year to celebrate my 50th birthday – the original intent was to go to Las Vegas, but we found Dubai to be nearer and nicer.

Okay so the whole place was superficial and built on rampant, unsustainable optimism, but it had a ‘can do’ attitude and a buzz about it that I’ve only experienced elsewhere in New York in the eighties and Shanghai a few years ago.

I personally hope that Dubai weathers the storm, albeit slightly chastened, it was a fun place to visit and, when my personal circumstances permit, I would love to go back.

As a teenager I would regulalry visit the Motor Show at Earl’s Court. I’ve mentioned before that I was a petrol-head before I knew what petrol was! Living in Hornchurch and Upminster as I did, it was easy to get a ‘Twin Rover’ for four shillings – the equivalent of a Travelcard today – and take the underground from Upminster to Earls Court.

I would spent the day staring at cars I could only dream of one day owning – Saab, Mercedes… Lamborghini. Ah well, two out of three ain’t bad.

Well times change, and in the ago of the ‘credit crunch’ the Motor Show has been cancelled, to be replaced by the MPH show… a show in association with the Top Gear TV series, a show for petrol-heads of all ages.

I had managed to blag admission through my friends who own the OutdoorBeanBag website that I built (and am in the process of rewriting). My mate Jeremy accompanied me, and for a few hours we were fourteen years young again.

Not sure who this guy was, he insisted on having his picture taken with me.

I can still lust after Mercedes…

…but somethings are just wrong. A gold plated Lamborghini?

Dear Santa… I’ve been really good this year…