Since I've almost been working for the dole for over two months with no end in sight, I thought I would start a belated blog to document all the miseries I feel, atrocities I witness and the ever lingering stink of boredom. I'm going to use this vehicle to get things off my chest, as well as something to pour my wasted time into. Maybe my dwindling writing skills will also improve, who knows. At least that would be one improved skill in this hell hole.
It began in June when I started working for the dole at the Salvation Army. This was for two days a week and I actually quite enjoyed it. I got praised a lot for doing a good job, which in turn was starting to build up my confidence that I could obtain a 'real life' job once more. Things came easily to me and I worked hard. Being constantly on my feet was another thing I liked, as opposed to my usual laziness I practice at home. At the Salvation Army I was being taught skills - like how to use the register (after no practice after a couple of years). Despite the store's gossip-y vibe (which is probably unavoidable in retail), I enjoyed a lot of the different characters that worked there, some more animated and humorous than others. But this soon came to a halting stop.
We were all warned that as of the 1st of July that the system was going to change. They would re-brand us from 'Job Services Australia' to 'Jobactive'. Under 30 year olds would now be made to work 25 hours a week http://www.humanservices.gov.au/corporate/publications-and-resources/budget/1415/measures/job-seekers/64-90066 . I suppose this was to 'strengthen our incentive' to find a job. Since everyone is rejoicing over having to work for the dole, not the fact that there is a severe lack of jobs...
Maybe I would have been okay with working 25 hours at the Salvation Army, but that all changed too.
I'm not really sure of the logistics, but I was told that since Jobactive is a new system, some of the old contracts with approved places-to-work-for-the-dole were to be renewed. So instead they were to place me somewhere new.
Unfortunately the best sounding, and closest one was a woodworking based activity. I believe that the description was something about how I was to make plant boxes and toys that would be given to charity. Even though I thought that obtaining woodworking skills is a somewhat specialized field and wouldn't immediately help me to find a job, the plant boxes made would be given to Lentils As Anything for them to grow vegetables - and I think that Lentil's is a great organization. That it would be nice to give back to them.
The last time I did any kind of woodworking was in year 8 at high school, and I wasn't very good at it then, but I thought it might be fun to make wooden toys. For a while, a running joke with my friends was that I was to be one of Santa's elves, laboring until Christmas (which is around the time my sentence ends) for all the girls and boys. Little did I know that that wasn't what I'd be doing at all for the next two months.
On my first day I was told to watch an instructional video on fire safety, which was a dated American cartoon seemingly created for children.
After that I was told to stay on the computers and look for jobs, which I did. I soon came to realize though that you could basically do what you want on the computers and you wouldn't be told off by the supervisors. Majority of people were watching videos on youtube or playing games.
So for the past two months I've been balancing my days with keenly applying for jobs, tweaking my resume, knitting or drawing while I listen to a Marc Maron podcast, reading articles/books, watching any films or documentaries that are on youtube (does anyone have any suggestions?), emailing friends and occasionally napping at my desk. Working Monday - Thursday, 9am - 4pm is too much time to just purely apply for jobs, which is why I have to mix it up.
The only woodworking I've ever done here is sanding a frame, once. For about 20 minutes. And I sanded the glue that sealed the frame together too vigorously that I broke it.
The excuse that they give of why we're not all learning woodworks, is that they don't have 'everyone's boot size', so not everyone can be on the warehouse floor. Even though I wear my docs everyday, I think they have to be steel caps. In two months they are yet to produce these mythical boots.
It probably sounds like I'm complaining about being able to do whatever I want here. But its the mental strain of blocking out your day with sitting in a room and achieving nothing. If I was spending these hours at an actual job, I'd have the incentive of making money, as well as helping out whatever establishment I was a part of. Or if I was still at home I'd wake up and work on my art in the safe environment of my home where all of my pencils and paints are. It's hard to create anything worth while in this space, with peering eyes.
Throughout this winter it's been colder in the warehouse than it is outside. I generally use my half an hour lunch break walking around in the wind outside just to warm up my joints.
Majority of people here are probably as depressed as I am, but some characters are just so devastatingly grating. One projects her running commentary constantly on everything she's reading or viewing, and conversationally speaks in loops. Another will without a doubt equate Melbourne weather to 'four seasons in one day' every day. Some of the men smell. I mean, I probably stink too, with my lack of sleep and shower avoidance techniques. Our supervisor is actually pretty cool, but his only jobs seems to be the keeper and master of our time sheets. Of course there are some good people; one guy told me a good story about how he had to live with bees in his house for a while, and another is watching Drunk History today.
Obviously I'm not in any means a 'better' person than any of the others because I'm here too, but this is a soul crushing place where no one is bettering themselves, or learning anything, or advancing. Including me. No one is here to help us with our resume's or cover letters. I've applied for a copious amount of jobs, and heard nothing back. I'm not a complete idiot, I've held jobs before and I have a Bachelors degree (not that thats a proof of intelligence). But the reality is that there's too few jobs for too many people.
Everyday that I have to 'work' here I wake up with an impending sense of dread and heavy misery. I know that my mental health has depleted significantly. I've had two stress/panic attacks (or at least that's what I think they were) in the last month, when I've never had that happen before in my life.I spread myself too thinly over the weekend, because I want to do everything that I don't have the liberty of doing throughout the week. This leads to further sleep depravity and desperation to make the final Sunday hours last.
One morning I silently cried in front of the computer at the dole. No one noticed.
The only beacon of light so far has been that my boyfriend started working along side me about a month ago. Although I felt sorry for him that he had to dance along to this doom, I was selfishly very excited to have somebody sane to speak with. We're the unemployment poster couple.
But even that hasn't worked out, as we solemnly manage to get computers seated next to each other, and we aren't exactly wanting to converse across the room for all to hear. I can't even kiss him hello because I feel too weird doing that in front of the other dole bludgers. He feels the same way. At least we have nice half-hour lunches together, and I get to stare at the back of his head from across the room, while trying to send him funeral director jobs through facebook.
And he'll probably score a job soon anyway with the amount of interviews he's getting, which is great.
Now that I've dribbled out most of the back story, I guess I'll use this as a day to day of whats happening or what I'm watching or thinking. Because here theres always new and exciting ways of being disappointed by the schools of thought that goes on here. Last week one girl was talking about the film Gone Girl, and surmised it as 'what chicks will do to get attention'...
Today a woman left, apparently crying to our supervisor and saying that 'everyone was being rude to her'. No one in the room spoke to her within the 10 minutes she was here thismorning. I completely understand her desire to lie to get out of here, and I wouldn't be past doing something similar. Because I have lied to get out of here earlier. Many times.
Here's hoping I break free of these shackles soon.
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