Here we go round the mulberry bush

Since my lovely job came to an end I’ve been vaguely looking for alternative employment, though where I’m likely to find another situation remotely as congenial, I don’t know. My last pay-cheque went into the bank at the end of July and my P45 arrived in the post, so I decided to see what, if any, benefits I was entitled to in the meantime – and officially get my tax and National Insurance and all that dull stuff sorted out and on record – it might help The Boy get more in the way of financial support at Uni. So off I pottered to the JobCentre.

“Oh no, madam, things have changed, you can’t do that here.” I was told. “You must call this number and give them your details over the phone so they can make you an appointment to come in and talk to someone.” So I phone the number. And get informed I’m in a queue, but my call will be answered eventually; or would I prefer to try again later, between 8am and 6pm? So I call back later, and hang on, and get the same message. Over the past fortnight I’ve been trying at all available hours to talk to someone – so far the longest I’ve hung on is 15 minutes – and this isn’t a Freephone number, so it’s all going on my phone bill.

Two weeks it’s taken so far, so I returned to the Jobcentre to be told firmly that ‘the government’ says they’re not allowed to talk to people without a telephone-arranged appointment. Keep hanging on – there’s usually only about 20 people in a queue. Oh, and I was also told that I could try between 9am and 1pm on Saturday. I don’t know why – when I did the answering machine told me they weren’t open on Saturdays. How the wombat is this supposed to be helping people? I wonder what’ll happen if I go back and ask to use their phone to call, because I don’t have any money to pay the steadily-mounting phone bill? I’m getting angrier and angrier. Where’s henry’s Big Gun?