Having been made redundant from a job in the City, I could have afforded not to sign on at all. But since my P45 showed I had paid well over £40,000 in income tax last year, I didn’t feel desperately guilty about clawing back £90 a week in New Style Jobseeker’s Allowance. I didn’t know how long I would remain unemployed. Plus I wanted to protect my national insurance to keep my entitlement to the state pension.
The chaos started almost immediately. I registered online in early February and was told to await a date for my ‘assessment interview’. Instead, a month later, a letter arrived to say I had missed my appointment and to ring the helpline to rearrange. The number at the top of the letter? Tel: 0000 000 0000. I found the right number and sat on hold for 30 minutes, before a succession of frazzled-sounding people found a new date. Which, a couple of days later, was changed again.
Finally, in mid-March, I made my way to my local Jobcentre Plus in south-west London. Staff were everywhere, mostly chatting at their desks or milling about, vastly outnumbering the public. There was no urgency. It was soothing and I liked it. In my old job there was always someone marching up and down or stabbing at a keyboard. No wonder the civil service is such an attractive place to work for people who like a nice sit-down and a cup of tea.
I was ticked off a list and sent to visit Booth 37 – out of what looked like 60 or so – to meet Linda.
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