Kitty vs Income Support People.... they win.
So, I haven't updated in a while, so thought I should just give a quick guide of my week so far before people started wondering if I'd become a ditch dweller.
So Monday was long, and sucky, and did I mention I HATE talking to people?
My day started off at about eight 0 clock, I'd stayed the night in Hammersmith so that it'd supposedly be easier to get to connexions. So I've left super-early, and I know that I'll have to hang around for about an hour before connexions opens, and sadly most shops in Hammersmith don't open until nine. I however am the Queen of procrastinating in places like that. When I was slightly younger and staying the night in places that I couldn't be the next morning I learnt all about the joys of carrying essential items with you at all times, how easily you can look daisy-fresh with some cheap make-up, and that it's pretty damn easy to completely change your entire outfit in the public toilets. So I hung around Hammersmith for about an hour and half, and walk down to connexions.... but oh my, the lights aren't on, that's gotta be bad. Right?
"Monday 6th March
We are sorry to report that connexions will be closed until 2:30pm due to staff training.
We apologise for any inconveniences."
Shit.
So there I am, about three miles from home, cold, tired and with the terrible knowledge that I can't just go home if I want to live to see another day. So I walk all the way up to the broadway and walk into the first recruitment agency I find.
I'm scared, I'm cold, I'm tired and I have no idea what the hell I'm gonna say.
So what do I do?
I flirt.
I flirt like my life depends on it.
I beam, I praise, I thank people over and over, and play the "oh you're just so swell card" I smile, and I tilt my head. I do this repeatedly through-out my day. And as it always does, my flirting gets me what I want.... eventually.
So at first I smile sweetly at the receptionist and explain that I don't have an appointment, and that I probably shouldn't be there at all, I just need a general advisor. And because she's dealt with people yelling at her for most of the morning she takes the relief of a quiet well-spoken girl who's in need of some advice. She spends ten minutes (avoiding the other people) helping me with my problem. She passes me onto a second lady who explains that she's sorry, but they can only take on people who have been out of work long -term, were over eighteen, and had been referred by the job centre... but she then wasted more of her time to suggest one or two places that might be able to help me. I thank her for her time and patience... onto place number two.
Place number two turns out to be an agency for office recruitment type stuff, and since I don't have any "real" office skills he talked to me for a long time about different secretarial courses before telling me that I should probably go down to the job centre as they'd be people to advise me. He even drew me a map, sweet really.
So it's off to the job centre I go. Oh joy, surrounded by angry people that aren't getting whatever benefit because of whatever reason, and need to be told the same damn thing over and over and over again. Finally I get called up and explain that I need help getting a course. They tell me that the careers office is where I need to be. So I write down "181 - Careers Office" and I walk... and walk.. and walk.. and walk.. and look up at.... Connexions. No, surely, Connexions and the Careers Office can't be the same thing, can they?
Bollocks.
So, I've successfully spent two hours walking around in a great big giant circle. Great.
I walk back to the job centre and say that I want to talk to someone about claiming income support.
Which I'm not entitled to apparently, because only people over the age of eighteen desperately need money. And under eighteens have no financial problems at all.
Bastards.
So I'm still cold and tired and unable to go home.
Tossers.
So I get a train, alllllllll the way up to Ealing *sigh* and go to the Connexions branch there. Again with the smiling and the praising and the complete and utter sweetness that is me. *sigh*
The first guy is nice enough, I kinda feel for him. He was thinking he'd be able to solve all of my problems in five minutes and go off for an early lunch. Nope, a whole lotta nope. The next thing he knows he's ringing up colleges and writing letters for me.
And as a sidenote, how do you politely correct someone's spelling when they're doing you a favour? I mean my spelling and grammar is far from perfect... but when I notice things my instinct is to correct it. I said...and this is the best I could think of at the time: "could I just correct my surname before you print? *smiles* don't worry, everyone spells my last name wrong.... *pauses* and uh, I think you've spelt "dear" wrong... and "faithfully" is one word." That's when I shut up, because correcting someone's spelling and grammar anymore then that is plain-rude.. right? Maybe... gah.
Anyway, after this guy had rung three colleges, written a letter and filled in a giant form for me, he had to go to lunch. But told me that I had a absolute right to the phones or anything else I might need...
And for half an hour I rang colleges to ask if they had a course starting soon.
I tried hard.
I really did.
Then I got bored.
I'd noticed the guy sitting beside me for a while, mostly because he blushed everytime I glanced at him.... and I'm a cruel selfish using bitch that hates looking for courses on my lonesome. So I smile brightly and ask him for some help about a course, which then leads to talking, and then to him getting two other girls to also help me. Suddenly I'm one girl with four Connexions advisors helping my case.... go team me. Lol.
So after having been at Connexions for about FOUR hours I'm finally in a position to go home.
I've applied to a computers course and have an appointment on Friday 24th March at 2pm.
I've applied to a creative writing course, which is currently postponed.
Today I'm going to apply for a photography course.
So I get home. And I'm very very very tired and cold.
And the guy from the job centre rings me.
And asks a ton of questions.
And answer most of them truthfully. Mostly.
And I'm incredibly polite during the entire conversation.
I explain that I don't want income support, I just want the support my Mum was getting reinstated.
He tells me that they can't really do anything because I have savings of £100.
Excuse me? £100. That's considered a large amount of money? I couldn't even rent a flat for a day in London with that amount of money. But I can't get any kind of incoming money because I have the grand total.. of oooo £100. Ugh. Of course I don't say any of this.
Then he asks to talk to my Mum.
So I call her downstairs and loudly tell her that we're getting no money at all because I've hit the jackpot with my £100.
He may have heard me.
Maybe.
Because he was apparently incredibly apologetic to my Mother.
And told her that he didn't make the rules, and if he could change them he would.
He even thought up some ways that she could get money that's sorta owed to her.
He gave her a number and his name if she needed to contact him, and he'd do his best to help us.
Which made me feel slightly bad about the loud sarcasm.
But only slightly.
Because they're still not giving us any money.
Wankers.
So Monday was long, and sucky, and did I mention I HATE talking to people?
My day started off at about eight 0 clock, I'd stayed the night in Hammersmith so that it'd supposedly be easier to get to connexions. So I've left super-early, and I know that I'll have to hang around for about an hour before connexions opens, and sadly most shops in Hammersmith don't open until nine. I however am the Queen of procrastinating in places like that. When I was slightly younger and staying the night in places that I couldn't be the next morning I learnt all about the joys of carrying essential items with you at all times, how easily you can look daisy-fresh with some cheap make-up, and that it's pretty damn easy to completely change your entire outfit in the public toilets. So I hung around Hammersmith for about an hour and half, and walk down to connexions.... but oh my, the lights aren't on, that's gotta be bad. Right?
"Monday 6th March
We are sorry to report that connexions will be closed until 2:30pm due to staff training.
We apologise for any inconveniences."
Shit.
So there I am, about three miles from home, cold, tired and with the terrible knowledge that I can't just go home if I want to live to see another day. So I walk all the way up to the broadway and walk into the first recruitment agency I find.
I'm scared, I'm cold, I'm tired and I have no idea what the hell I'm gonna say.
So what do I do?
I flirt.
I flirt like my life depends on it.
I beam, I praise, I thank people over and over, and play the "oh you're just so swell card" I smile, and I tilt my head. I do this repeatedly through-out my day. And as it always does, my flirting gets me what I want.... eventually.
So at first I smile sweetly at the receptionist and explain that I don't have an appointment, and that I probably shouldn't be there at all, I just need a general advisor. And because she's dealt with people yelling at her for most of the morning she takes the relief of a quiet well-spoken girl who's in need of some advice. She spends ten minutes (avoiding the other people) helping me with my problem. She passes me onto a second lady who explains that she's sorry, but they can only take on people who have been out of work long -term, were over eighteen, and had been referred by the job centre... but she then wasted more of her time to suggest one or two places that might be able to help me. I thank her for her time and patience... onto place number two.
Place number two turns out to be an agency for office recruitment type stuff, and since I don't have any "real" office skills he talked to me for a long time about different secretarial courses before telling me that I should probably go down to the job centre as they'd be people to advise me. He even drew me a map, sweet really.
So it's off to the job centre I go. Oh joy, surrounded by angry people that aren't getting whatever benefit because of whatever reason, and need to be told the same damn thing over and over and over again. Finally I get called up and explain that I need help getting a course. They tell me that the careers office is where I need to be. So I write down "181 - Careers Office" and I walk... and walk.. and walk.. and walk.. and look up at.... Connexions. No, surely, Connexions and the Careers Office can't be the same thing, can they?
Bollocks.
So, I've successfully spent two hours walking around in a great big giant circle. Great.
I walk back to the job centre and say that I want to talk to someone about claiming income support.
Which I'm not entitled to apparently, because only people over the age of eighteen desperately need money. And under eighteens have no financial problems at all.
Bastards.
So I'm still cold and tired and unable to go home.
Tossers.
So I get a train, alllllllll the way up to Ealing *sigh* and go to the Connexions branch there. Again with the smiling and the praising and the complete and utter sweetness that is me. *sigh*
The first guy is nice enough, I kinda feel for him. He was thinking he'd be able to solve all of my problems in five minutes and go off for an early lunch. Nope, a whole lotta nope. The next thing he knows he's ringing up colleges and writing letters for me.
And as a sidenote, how do you politely correct someone's spelling when they're doing you a favour? I mean my spelling and grammar is far from perfect... but when I notice things my instinct is to correct it. I said...and this is the best I could think of at the time: "could I just correct my surname before you print? *smiles* don't worry, everyone spells my last name wrong.... *pauses* and uh, I think you've spelt "dear" wrong... and "faithfully" is one word." That's when I shut up, because correcting someone's spelling and grammar anymore then that is plain-rude.. right? Maybe... gah.
Anyway, after this guy had rung three colleges, written a letter and filled in a giant form for me, he had to go to lunch. But told me that I had a absolute right to the phones or anything else I might need...
And for half an hour I rang colleges to ask if they had a course starting soon.
I tried hard.
I really did.
Then I got bored.
I'd noticed the guy sitting beside me for a while, mostly because he blushed everytime I glanced at him.... and I'm a cruel selfish using bitch that hates looking for courses on my lonesome. So I smile brightly and ask him for some help about a course, which then leads to talking, and then to him getting two other girls to also help me. Suddenly I'm one girl with four Connexions advisors helping my case.... go team me. Lol.
So after having been at Connexions for about FOUR hours I'm finally in a position to go home.
I've applied to a computers course and have an appointment on Friday 24th March at 2pm.
I've applied to a creative writing course, which is currently postponed.
Today I'm going to apply for a photography course.
So I get home. And I'm very very very tired and cold.
And the guy from the job centre rings me.
And asks a ton of questions.
And answer most of them truthfully. Mostly.
And I'm incredibly polite during the entire conversation.
I explain that I don't want income support, I just want the support my Mum was getting reinstated.
He tells me that they can't really do anything because I have savings of £100.
Excuse me? £100. That's considered a large amount of money? I couldn't even rent a flat for a day in London with that amount of money. But I can't get any kind of incoming money because I have the grand total.. of oooo £100. Ugh. Of course I don't say any of this.
Then he asks to talk to my Mum.
So I call her downstairs and loudly tell her that we're getting no money at all because I've hit the jackpot with my £100.
He may have heard me.
Maybe.
Because he was apparently incredibly apologetic to my Mother.
And told her that he didn't make the rules, and if he could change them he would.
He even thought up some ways that she could get money that's sorta owed to her.
He gave her a number and his name if she needed to contact him, and he'd do his best to help us.
Which made me feel slightly bad about the loud sarcasm.
But only slightly.
Because they're still not giving us any money.
Wankers.