Agent Shithead

Agents. The bane of my life.

It seems we have discovered a form of life lower than politicians and bankers. Scum sucking bottom feeders without any discernible talents, but with the power to deny you access to decent employment.

Let's get this straight. I know my limits. I know what I am capable and not capable of. I know my CV reflects this, and I will not and do not apply for jobs beyond my scope. I don't like wasting peoples time.

On the other hand, it would appear that agents love to waste my time. I spend a long time talking to these people. Crazy promises to put me forward for positions are made, promises to call me back are made. None of them come true.

Then you get the other type. They just refuse to even acknowledge you've applied for a position. No contact. They won't respond to emails. They're never at their desks. They never respond to voice mails.

These people are scum. Needless to say I've started trying to apply direct through larger employers websites. Please note the word trying in the previous sentence. More on that later. After all, I've got to fill in my job seekers diary (again). It's signing on day tomorrow, and I'm all excited. Aren't you?

How low can you go?

So I've got two tightly rolled appointments. I get to sign on again. This is, of course, the highlight of any jobseekers fortnight.

The bastards have been at it again. Another member of the highly valuable staff is leaving, so they've decorated the morgue. At least, I'm happy to note, it's the vacuous little shit who took care of my signing on last time. Hopefully he's off to another country. Somalia would be nice for him.

I am, this time, pleasantly surprised my politeness and attentiveness of the person who carries out the duties of signing me on. She asks pointed questions, listens to the answers whilst (gasp!) looking at me and seems genuinely interested in what I've been up to in order to try and gain useful employment. One down, one to go.

The following day its time to meet Next Steps again. If, dear reader, you can cast your mind back to my last meeting with this lot they listened and typed a lot and we agreed to find and fund training.

Well, I'm back with the courses I'd like to. Including supporting documentation. But I'm not the only one who is back. The normal Next Steps advisor is back. It's the first time I've met this pony tailed del-boy like character, and as you'll find out it's unlikely I'll ever be seeing him again.

I've been told, and known, from the outset that I am allowed only three meetings with next steps in a twelve month period. Now this idiot insists that he's not prepared, so even though I'm prepared he won't fill in the forms for my training today. Which poses a problem. Since this is our third meeting he *nudge-nudge* won't record it. However, he'll give me the forms I need to fill in to go with the evidence I've found and call me to make another appointment. Why in the name of all that crawls through the filth have I not been given these forms before?

Instead of poking him very hard in the windpipe, I smile pleasantly and tell him filling in the forms will be no problem and I look forward to receiving his call.

The pony tailed wanker now can't find page three of the form, so I sit for several minutes smiling and inwardly laughing at him because I can see page three of the form on the back of page two every time this moron holds it up. For some reason the form comes as a single sided page one, a double sided page two and three, and then a final page four. This, of course, defeats the intellect of the average government employee.

After 40 minutes of pointless 'appointment' I leave with the promise that he will call me either that afternoon or the next day. It's now a whole week later, and no phone call. He had my number correct, it looks like I've been cast adrift by Next Steps. Here's hoping the government cut funding for it and they all end up on the receiving end of the hopeless performances I've so far had to endure.

Enthusiastic

After having been a job seeker for the grand total of four weeks, it's obvious that you need a review of your job seeking activities at great expense to the tax payer. It seems they're not throwing quite enough cash at me to get me back into work.

Right, so having been made to wait ten minutes past my appointment time because the person interviewing me is too busy shuffling papers, pecking listlessly at her keyboard and gassing to colleagues, I'm not really in the mood for this. But hey, they pay the money - I will do as these people ask. Even when my brain urges me to jump up and choke them with their useless, and seemingly endless, piles of forms.

So we start with a bit of chit chat about what kind of work I'm looking for and how I'm looking for work. What methods I'm using. Methods for finding a job - yup. I'm still using the methods I told you about four weeks ago.

Yes. Specialist websites.

Yes. Jobs are available for my skills.

Yes. The pay brackets are in line with my expectations.

Now, maybe my brain has melted in four weeks - but I think I've trotted all this crap out to at least three different people at the same job centre. Do they think to maybe write it all down so I don't have to repeat myself endlessly? Do I really need to waste tax payers money telling three people the same thing? Utterly pointless.

Now the woman interviewing me, who has a lovely jowley look just like Churchill, seems surprised. What is the source of her surprise? I'm still enthusiastic and confident of finding a job. After all, I have been looking for FOUR weeks. She gushes about how impressed she is, and how other people give up. What? Now wonder the country is in a state. Teenagers giving up looking for a job if they don't get one after four weeks and deciding the rioting is a better option.

Anyway, she makes yet another appointment for me to return and talk about training, and then chips in how she'll have to see me the week after that to discuss applying for different roles outside my comfort zone. I can't fucking wait.