Signing On – My first time. (5 Oct 2007)

9.50am. Signing on, my first time.

The Job Centre is fascinating. Depressing, but fascinating, and no one even offered me a cup of tea and a biscuit. Not a good start in my book.

A glance at those who crossed the threshold that morning with me told many a story. If Jesus was to show up in this town, I reckon he’d pop his head round the door to keep an eye on the proceedings, get amongst the job seekers and at the very least he’d be understanding, maybe turn a few tables over. But he didn’t show up this day.

I waited, in fact I waited only a few moments, but had long enough to take in my surroundings before being called by name. Welcome to the world of the Job Centre… It’s where different worlds collide. The world of government departments and beaurocracy meets the job seeker with questions, interviews, assessments and a certain degree of scrutiny – the staff of course are not to blame for this, just following instructions.

The job centre is not actually a place to get a job – my first big mistake and my first impressions have lasted. Within the centres confines I was addressed by name but I felt like a statistic. There was no eye contact as I was asked for the umpteenth time, where I live, what I’m looking for, how I’m doing, and how’s my job search going. A glance at my details on the computer screen would give the answers, inevetably my Interviewer remained engaged in tapping keys on the keypad, goodness knows what she (Debbie?) was typing. All I know is that she has ‘locked in’. The man who sat before her with his job search log book in hand, simply was waiting to sign on the dotted line before escaping the building.

Not yet buster. In addition to form filling and inane questioning there are also row of big grey boxes at the side of the office on the first floor which seem to be getting other job seekers attention. Clearly I would need to ask to be shown how to fire one of these up. My chosen device, standing about waist high was obviously the Centres’ secret job seeking weapon. It bears a resemblance to both Doctor Whos pet pooch K-9 (minus its feet and head), and a card dealers shoe, although not as sophisticated. It has a small green screen on which my search results would be displayed and handy over sized buttons similar to those on a childs alphabet train. This was introduced as a means of job searching, but not a very good one, the staff conceded, nevertheless I was obliged to give it a whirl anyway. My trainer wasn’t exaggerating. I could either do a local job search or select the wider search area option, which effectively meant it would chunder out jobs found pretty much anywhere within the UK or Europe. If I was fortunate enough to have a prefered job title come up, a quick glance would tell me that it was not only in Inverness, but it was above the minimum wage – other details would be available on request. Hitting the print button ensured I had enough toilet paper for the rest of that day.

I left the building with my papers, signing on book, paperback and (quite possibly) a bemused expression on my face. Aaarrgh! Time for a coffee…

A fortnight later I would be back.

Tags: assessments, first time, form filling, frustration, interview, Job Centre, job title, local, log book, signing on, signing on the first time