Bleak

Procrastination's just the way I roll, br'a. I've been putting off writing about this for a long time.

Things have been shitful for what seems like forever. This all began in early February last year when the job I'd been in for a week short of seven years was made redundant. I worked for an emergency service and live in Victoria and most people know what happened on February 7 - lots of the state burned and 173 people died in those fires, and up until a few days before, I would have been able to help in that situation. I know that's selfish but I'm the kind of person who likes to make a difference in people's lives, even if in the tiniest way. Instead, I had to sit on the sidelines, transfixed in horror, and wonder if my former workmates, some who I was (and remain) very close to, were OK.

Then the global financial crisis began to really affect the job market. I thought it would be difficult to find another job even before the GFC began to bite, but had no idea it would take more than a year. There's no end in sight, and it's fairly soul-destroying. I've always been one of those people who, rightly or wrongly, has a lot of their self-identity bound up in their job. So I thought I handled the loss of much of my identity pretty well. Until recently, when it seems like a lot of my world is falling apart and it's made worse by the fact I just can't get a job - any fucking job, and believe me, I've applied for a lot. I seem to be unemployable, which confirms for me what being made redundant made me think - that I'm a shit employee. Or potential employee. Whatever. All this has resurfaced because a couple of weeks ago I was one of the final two candidates for a job I really wanted (duh! I'm desperate) and at which I would have been really good. I wasn't going to allow myself to get excited about the possibility of being employed again. But did. And now am struggling because I've once again failed. Fuck.

Which leads me to: Centrelink. Jesus Christ. I got a redundancy payout, and lived off it for a year. But finally ran out of money and had to resort to the dole. And dealing with the Federal Government is not my idea of a good time. Nor is surviving on the government's idea of an income. Truly, reporting my financial situation to Centrelink to see if I was eligible for the dole was more invasive than a Pap smear. Yes, I'm lucky to live in a country with a welfare system. And that I can access that welfare system. But the fact remains that after I pay rent, I've got $120 a month to live on. That's right, you heard me. $120 A MONTH. Which doesn't even cover petrol for a week. Let alone food, bills, entertainment, hairdresser, charity donations... you know, all those things which make a life. It's utterly unrealistic and makes the pain of dealing with the bureaucracy worse.

Here's an example of how retarded it all is. I rock up to the dole office, take a deep breath and say 'I need to sign up for the dole'. "Oh, you don't come in to the office. You need to ring us first. Use that phone over there."

That phone over there, in the open, where all who are in the office can hear? Yep, that one.

On hold. Gets answered. "I need to sign up for the dole, please."

"We need to ask you some questions. It'll take about 15 minutes. Is that OK?"

Forty-five minutes later, and still only half-way through the questionnaire. Computer system's down. I have to call back the next day.

Call back. On hold. Have to go through all the questions again, plus the ones they didn't get to. "You'll need to see one of our staff members. The earliest appointment's in a week. Then we'll consider payment."

Appointment in a week. And still no payment? What if I had literally no money? Christ. Luckily, things weren't quite that bad. Yet.

Go to the appointment. Staff member answers the phone in the middle of the akin-to-Pap-smear-invasive-questions. Is nearly in tears. "I'm sorry, there's just been a major family trauma..."

Fuck. Am I supposed to comfort her? Ask if she needs a break. No, she's OK and wants to continue, she replies. Except she's shaking and crying. Jesus. I want to be more sympathetic but the fact is, I'm here for her/the government's help. Anyway. "You are eligible. You'll get payment in a week. That payment will be... TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS," she says excitedly, as if telling me I've just won first prize in the world's smallest and most inadequate lottery.

All that for $200? No wonder I put off resorting to Centrelink for as long as I did. I don't know how people manage on "benefits" of any kind for any period of time. Adjusting to not having money is one of the hardest things I've dealt with in my life.