Now that I'm off the dole...

I can get back into work mode and let all those poor unfortunate fuckers that are rotting away in A4E how to get the hell out of there and do something more productive.

So, how do you get yourself out of A4E? Simple. Just get up and walk on out the door. That's all there is to it. And how is this possible? Well, allow me to explain. Firstly A4E is not a government program that must be attended in order to get benefits. It's basically a way for the government to fiddle the books on the number of unemployed.

I was sent to A4E by the benefits office (And actually attended several times before I decided that I had had enough of the horseshit that was involved in doing so.) as I had been unemployed for more than six months. And this is where the government fiddle comes into play.

You know all the reports that the government likes to shove in the direction of the news agencies? (I'm assuming you do or you wouldn't be reading this.) Well they're all bullshit. That's right kids, the government lies in order to hide the truth. And how do they do this? They send you and others to places like A4E and adjust the figures to make it appear that you and others are no longer on the dole and drawing unemployment benefits.

Once you are at A4E the pressure upon you to fill out application forms is more direct than it is when you only have to apply for a couple of jobs a week in order to keep the benefits office at bay. (According to your jobseekers agreement that you sign you are required to apply for a minimum of two jobs per week or your benefits may be stopped.) And at A4E they have you as a captive audience where they can monitor you on a tighter basis.

You'll notice after a few days at A4E that there is a lot more pressure to apply for jobs and employers even turn up and interview you at the A4E offices. Fair enough the jobs on offer are not the type of job you either want, or are suitable for, but that's not the point. It's all about getting shot of you so the government can do the old wham bam flim flam on the news agencies and make it look like they are making a difference.

And therein lies the truth about A4E. It's all smoke and mirrors folks. Fuck em and the boat they paddled up shit creek in. Do yourself a favour and get out of there before it's too late. Or stay and end up working as a security guard on minimum wage and struggling to make ends meet while the fucker who set you up in the first place draws in a salary on the other side of £25 large, has a decent pension and drives a BMW to work.

Here endeth the lesson.

*Please note, no responsibility will be taken by me for you having your benefits stopped should you choose to leave A4E. If you want my advice on how to get the dole off your back do this... Get a job that you can bear until you get a job you want. Good luck.

I feel...

I have slightly neglected my fourteen (14) faithful readers by not posting anything for the last twelve (12) days and have therefore decided to take a little time tonight to let you all know what's going on in the life of me. (Yeah, I know... Boring.)

I have taken the bold decision never to return to the foul piss smelling hellhole that is A4E, as it depresses the shit out of me, despite the fact I may get into all kinds of trouble from The Man for refusing to go. Fuck Da Man... Da Man can kiss my scrotal sack and call me Sven for all I care.

It's not the fact that the A4E room stinks of piss, or the fact that the troglodytes spend most of their time there pissing around on Google earth, facebook or myspace, or the fact that there is a very perceptible evolutionary ladder on show, or the fact that the tutors seem more interested in getting copies of the latest DVD's from certain people* that has convinced me never again to darken their doors again...

It's the fact that I've come to the conclusion I would be better off taking a freshly sharpened pencil out my bag and jamming it into my eye than be there. One thing is for sure, I'd be far less likely to catch a terminal dose of some horrible disease sitting in Accident and Emergency holding the pencil steady than I would in A4E. And that's taking the nationwide outbreaks of MRSA into account.

*Who will remain anonymous as I wasn't about to get chatty with someone who has fuck you tattooed on their forehead.

So, here I am at A4E...

I've searched almost every available job position available in Scotland and have sent off applications, which if current trends are consistent, will be ignored and I will climb one more rung on the "I hate employers" ladder that I have been scaling for the last year and a bit.

Why is it that employers go to the effort of placing an advert online or in the newspapers don't bother replying to people who take their time to apply for them? It's not as though it's difficult.

All it would take is a standardised letter to satisfy me. I'm not asking for the head cheese of the company to come around to my house and personally applogise to me for not being able to employ me, all I want is a small note stating... "Sorry, at this time we are unable to offer you a posisition. We wish you all the best in your future career and will keep your details on file should anything suitable to you arise in our company... Or words to that effect.

I'm sat in Stabucks...

And there’s a poor fucker behind me being grilled by starbucks executive types and by god he’s flapping. Stuttering is not an option in situations like this, the ability to bullshit is.

In situations like this the ability to pad out sentences is a godsend. Why say “If we waste water it’s bad for the environment.” when you can wax lyrical like Bob Geldof during live aid. “If we waste even a tablespoon of water it dramatically effect the lives of every man, woman and child on the planet, for gods sake, people are fucking dying man!”

You can take this tactic too far though. Decrying the global machine that is Starbucks, leaping up and whipping out a fist to lay the suited and booted exec on his ass may be taking things to the limit.

Sure, it’s probably satisfying beyond words but you’ll not find a payrise notice at your workstation you’ll find a pink slip.

The executive has all manner of cards and shit in front of him and he’s working well with his co-executive. “Can you give me an example of when you provided good customer care?” The empty suit asks.

“I… I… I… Erm, Eh, I once held the door open for a customer once.” The interviewee replies, badly.

I think he should be more direct. “I once refrained from popping some fuckwit in the head when he was being a dick to me. That’s good customer care right there.”

But balls to that. There’s a blonde chick who’s wiggling her foot in my direction and smiling. Have I got shit on my shirt? No, thank god. I look bad enough at the best of times without the remains of a steak bake making me look like a refugee from Kazakhstan.

I ponder for a second if she is aware that she is pointing an extremity at me but come to the conclusion she’s not. Why on gods green and blue would someone so cute be flirting by body language with me? Perhaps she’s retarded. Not terribly so that it shows on her face in that high forehead, dribbly way but enough to effect her judgement. I dunno. And right now I’m too hyper on coffee to make an approach.

Besides, I have to make a move back to A4E. I’ve had almost two hours for lunch and need to at least look like I give a shit about being there.

I feel like wishing the interviewee the best of luck with his interview with tweedledum and tweedledummer but resist as it could be taken the wrong way.

“Screw these fools man, it’s just a job. You are not your job, you are not the all singing all dancing face of starbucks. You, my friend are better than these fuckers! Fight the power and fuck the man!” may not be the best thing to tell the swine.

A4E...

School may not prepare you for the real world; You know the one… Bosses, deadlines, targets, etc but it certainly prepares you for somewhere like this.

Like school there are distinct groups…

There are the kids who smoke illicit cigarettes behind the technical studies block… Here they smoke illicit joints a few meters away from the front door and pretend that the tutors don’t know they are all half baked at the best of times.

There are the bullies… Here they aren’t the hold your head down the toilet and show you the blue goldfish type, they’re the ones who use vocalisation as a form of bullying or strength of character as a way to subvert your will.

There are the school swats… The ones who kiss teachers ass and show just how good they are at doing their work. Which is kind ironic as if they were half as good at work as they claim to be they wouldn’t be here in the first place.

There are the pretty girls… Who huddle in corners comparing nail varnish, the latest fashions and do nothing productive. Unless you count making snide remarks about everyone not in their group and who’s only form of vocal contact seems to be to giggle like hyenas on PCP.

And finally there is the class clown who see’s all these disparate groups and realises they have one thing in common. And takes the piss out of them for it. That’d be me.

Back at A4E...

Jesus H Christos,

This place is doing my head in. More than usual. And that's quite an achievement when you consider how much I hate this place.

In all honesty I would be more productive at home job hunting than I am here. If it's not the computers running so slow that they make a Sinclair ZX Spectrum look like Deep Blue it's the broadband not being able to handle the amount of people checking their Bebo, Facespace or Mybook sites.

"Ho, Sandra, I've just messaged you on facespace! Gonnae check it and reply to me!"

I shrug my shoulders and shake my head wondering why it is that Coco The Cunt thinks that the Internet should be used to send someone a message when she can easily write it on a piece of paper, make a paper airplane and whip it across the room with more ease. Perhaps it's because Coco the Cunt can't spell worth a fuck and the computer does a spell check...

At the moment I'm sitting in the corridor typing away as all the chairs in the Positive Moves room are taken and this is the only place where I am relatively undisturbed. That is if you don't count the talking heads who are skiving off by claiming they need a piss or are stocking up on tea and coffee.

But that's cool, I can put up with the occasional distraction as long as I don't have to listen to Coco the Cunt telling her friend she's just filled in a Facespace application that rates her looks and she needs a friend to rate her as gorgeous.

Which, if I'm being honest, is a blatant lie. She's as attractive as a bulldog licking piss of a nettle.