My job centre experience – 2

This is my second experience of my visit to the job centre. After the first visit, people requested that I wrote about my next experience, and here it is.

My rants and thoughts

I had decided to set off early as I knew that all four routes into Hull would be rammed from 9am. I set off at 9.20am and the traffic was relatively calm, however the traffic that was on the roads were arseholes of the smelliest and shittiest nature. I do wish that some fuckers would decide which lane they were choosing and stick to it. Like I said, the roads were not busy so moving from lane to lane was just done, it would seem, to piss me right off.

I finally got to the car park at St Stephens and as I was approaching the stairs (it is after all only one floor up) I saw 6 people waiting at the lift waiting to go down to the shops. Surely their Christmas shopping exploits were not going to use all of their energy that walking down a few steps would take up too much of it. And that is coming from a fat bastard.

I popped into Tesco for a few things, grabbed a basket cos even though I knew it would be full, at least I wouldn’t have to queue with all the other last minute shoppers who need shooting for leaving it so late.

As I walked past all of the trogs queuing, with their faces like a bulldog licking piss off a nettle, I swang my crammed full basket all the way down to the empty ‘basket only’ till. I paid and was out of there in one minute.

After I had deposited my shopping in my car (again walking up and down the stairs) as I did not want to take it into the job centre. After all, someone with a Tesco carrier bag in there would be seen as nobility as would be lynched. It was after I had this thought that I would take two contradicting items into the job centre with me to disorientate and confuse the people who frequent it.

So, after going to the establishments I set off walking to the job centre to sign on for the last time.

However, as I attempted to walk into the job centre with my spiced chai tea latte (which is fucking gorgeous by the way), I was halted and told that I could not take my drink inside and the security guard pointed to the sign on the outside of the automatic doors. When I asked why, he told me that it was in case I threw my coffee (its tea ignoramus) at a staff member.

It was then that I admitted to him that I was breaking two other rules too of the sign on the front door. I had a mint in my coat pocket and I would be taking my mobile phone into the building as (and I know this sounds stupid) but if I left it outside of the building whilst I was inside of it, it may not be there when I got back outside to collect it.

He told me that I was okay with my mint and mobile phone, so I asked why I could not take my TEA inside then. “It’s the rules” he told me as he sheepishly walked away. Well I say he walked, he sort of thumped away from me as those security guards who double as bouncers do whenever they ‘try’ to walk. I finished my TEA and walked back into the job centre and as I walked past the same security guard, I was placing the mint into my mouth with one hand, tweeting on my phone with the other and smiling like the Cheshire cat right at him.

I walked up the stairs (two flights of them this time) as the higher in the alphabet your surname is, the higher up the building you have to walk. I feel this may be a bit of discrimination to the Polish/Eastern European community as they will all have to go to the top floor. Actually, I suspect that the main reason for them marrying English people is so that they only have to walk up one flight of stairs when claiming their benefits.

I went into the floor where I was to sign in but I had forgot to take my signing on book.

“Have you brought your signing on book” the woman asked.

“No, sorry” I replied “but I was so desperate to beat the traffic having to come into town at Christmas shopping week that I have forgotten”.

“Well, you must bring your signing on book otherwise you will not receive your benefits” she told me as she reached into her desk and brought out a slip of paper.

“Just fill this in please and make sure you bring your book in next time okay” she said. I filled in the slip of paper and gave it back to her.

“This is to make sure that you still receive your benefits” she informed me.

“So, I don’t need to bring in my book then” I asked.

“Yes” she replied and looked right at me as the bouncer……sorry, Security Guard behind her began to shuffle.

“but if I do forget to bring it every time, I just need to fill in one of these slips?” I asked.

“Well yes I suppose so” she answered and the pit bull’s…….sorry, Security Guard’s leash slackened again.

“Thank you” I said “but I won’t be here any more as I start my new job in under two weeks” and walked over the the seats that look comfortable but make your arse hurt more than a pelican stabbing at it looking for food (just trust me).

There was only two of us sat waiting to be seen. me and a black gentleman. We both nodded at each other, gesturing and greeting without actually saying a word. As I sat waiting I did not see any flirting, no highlighting of paperwork and someone had actually opened a window. NOW, they were different staff so they were actually good staff or one of the 564 people who read my blog last time either worked there or knows someone who works there and told them about it. I suspected the first instance, that was until I heard a discussion about Christmas knitting patterns. I was about to tweet about it when I heard my name being called out. I looked at the man sat opposite me as he had been there before me and therefore should be next to be seen I would have thought.

As I approached the desk, I shit you not, the woman behind the desk said “I was hoping it was going to be you”.

Why was she glad it was going to be me? Not only are they discriminating to the Eastern European benefit scroungers by making them walk to the top of the building, they were now blatantly discriminating against this other gentleman who had been sat there longer than me and she was ‘GLAD’ to it was me who she was seeing and not him.

He is probably still sat there poor bloke.

I signed another piece of paper that made sure that I received my benefits and left within two minutes of the woman’s obvious racism.

As I walked back down the stairs past the first floor, two people walked out of the double doors and the ‘woman’ was informing the ‘man’ she was with that her benefits had now been halved. He whispered sweet nothings to her by stating “Well we won’t be able to get enough gear this week then”. I exited the building and decided to take the picture of what is prohibited in the job centre and that is when I realised the lengths this government is going to cut benefit fraud. It stated ‘NO DOGS (EXCEPT GUIDE DOGS)’. However on my five visits to the job centre I had seen many of them and the Security Guard had let them slip through too, BUT NOT MY CHAI TEA LATTE!

Things did not improve when I was driving out of the town centre as ALL of the truck drivers were determined to kill someone. One of whom decided to move from the inside lane as it was moving the quickest to then cut across everyone to the fourth lane. What the fuck was he delivering? A time bomb? No I wouldn’t appreciate being cut up even for that. His manoeuvre meant that he was stopped before the traffic lights, diagonally across all four lanes and no-one could get out of the the filter system until that twatbasket had moved.



My job centre experience – 1

This is my real experience of my time in a job centre. After my first visit, I knew that I had to write all other visits down for people to understand what it is like and for those people who have also experienced it, to empathise with me.

My rants and thoughts

Minute 1 – I walk into the long corridored room with workers at the edge of it and the dolites sat on settees in the middle, like cattle at a market. Just as I sit down, a woman from behind her desk begins to shout the name Ricky Johnson. She does this 8 times without moving her rotund arse from her chair, you know in case he is deaf or hard of hearing. I assume that we just sit and wait as there is nowhere to book in to say you are here, even though I have an appointment. Ridiculous & confusing to me, never mind the illiterate people who attend this place.
Minute 2 – The rotund one has now stood up and is talking to a colleague wasting her time where this Ricky is. “Oh he might be here, try shouting again” I hear her colleague advise her. I am biting my lip to shout “WHY DON’T YOU SEE IF HE IS HARD OF HEARING AND IF NOT, HE ISN’T HERE SO, NEXT! but I refrain as I will probably be made to wait longer or the tall, muscular security guard may place his Doc Martens so far up my arse I will be whistling his laces for the rest of the day.

Minute 3 – As I stare at my smartphone I can already hear two desk clerks flirting and doing nothing. This happened last timeI came to the job centre. Could you possibly stop looking at each others sexually attractive body parts until later and actually do some fucking work. Its a chore I know but at least you have a job. There are a dozen people sat waiting, okay they don’t need to rush off to work or anything but they HATE being here. You can suck him off later love, just get us seen so we can leave as soon as possible and try and escape the gang of drugged up, alcoholic losers who stand outside all day and try to find a job. That would be a good idea now wouldn’t it (that part was supposed to be said in a patronising voice just like the one they use when you tell them you don’t have a job).

Minute 4 – The chav next to me is looking at me. I decide to put my smart phone in my zipped pocket and check where my wallet is. He turns to me and informs me that I have to book in otherwise they won’t know that I am here. Bless him, it has taken him 4 minutes to pluck up the courage to tell me that, or it took 4 minutes for his brain to send the information to his mouth. He shows me the desk that I have to go to and its the one where the lazy cow who was shouting Ricky was still sat. She was interviewing someone when I arrived so how the hell was I supposed to know that you had to book in there. After I tell her my name, I looked around for any signs to tell you this. There are none. Dicks.
I sit back down and thank the chav, he does not respond but then he probably isn’t used to hearing compliments.
Minute 5 – Feck me its hot in here. It is either all of the hot air these gimps are spouting about there being plenty of well paid jobs out there or this is where our tax is going, to heat the job centre and make the unemployed even more uncomfortable. I noticed the security guard inch closer to a massive black bloke who just walked in. No stereotyping there then is there, besides the security guard wouldn’t stand a chance if he kicked off anyway.

Minute 6 – One woman is working like a trojan and has seen two people already and is on to the third. The rest are just sat staring into their pay slips, licking each others lips, probably on social media sites & laughing at us pogs as we sit here and roast. There are two men sat in suits opposite me and I woman has just walked up to them and spoke about them being interviewed for a job soon. I had to laugh as they both looked down her top at the same time and then looked at each other. They then both checked her out as she walked away. The only thing that was missing was them high fiving each other.
Minute 7 – Now the staff behind me are talking about Christmas shopping instead of seeing us. My lips are about to burst and I was waiting 15 minutes last time I was here.

The sentence “aw it’s out of order man” is spoken behind me as two disheveled, pale looking scruffy gits walk past me. They look like they have not eaten for weeks and they stagger out of the door. I look around and notice that there are lots of people walking about aimlessly. More people have turned up but no-one else’s name has been called out.

Minute 8 – I have just noticed that one woman at a desk on my right has been highlighting with her head down for 8 minutes. I then hear my name to be seen. I walk over to the desk and my interview begins.

INTERVIEW – I sit down and she asks if I have wrote down all of the jobs I have applied for, rang up about and been into shops for. I say no, but before she has time to have a go, I tell her that I have found a job. The relief in her face is apparent and I swear I hear Kool and the Gang singing ‘Celebration’ in the background. She tells me to keep signing on until my CRB clears then I can get what is entitled for me to receive. My next interview is on the 22nd of December so I will have to force my way through the dickheads who are last minute Christmas shopping and there will be nowhere to park. I REALLY hope that I never have to visit a place like that again. It is more depressing going to that place and searching for a job than any job in the world makes you feel.



Tim had an aimlessly normal life. A monotonous hospital job, the ex-girlfriend who left him for a taller, sexier, richer man and the dragging solitude of his single life in the games console/men’s magazine hell that had made him accustomed to lounging around on a daily basis.

That was until the morning he woke up and found an ornamental polar bear next to his washing up. It was at that point that his life became one of paranoia, pain and anguish.

Where had it come from? Who had brought it into his flat? How had it appeared in the flat without him noticing? And who the hell leaves someone an ornamental polar bear?

As the year goes by, Tim receives item after item from his mystery altruist. He becomes blasé until one gift goes missing and turns up again the next day cleaner. It was at that point that Tim started to worry again.

Detective Adam Ryder was a newly promoted Constable who had recently been partnered with Trevor Landis; an almost retired Detective Inspector whose last case involved his partner going missing. Adam, with his new investigative eyes, appeared to pick up on something almost immediately but Trevor was not going to be easy to convince; especially with them having to work with two of the most haphazard, lazy, crooked Detectives on the force. However, when a man turns up at the station with a box full of evidence, the pieces start to fit into place and it is then that Adam and Trevor realise how close they have been.

In the middle of the night he waits and watches his victims, sometimes for many weeks, to gather their routine and look for ways to make the kill easier for him. He had a plan and nobody was going to get in the way of it being completed. Tim needed to know how extra special he was to him. After his first victim, he looked around and chose an ideal gift for him. “Tim will like this” he thought.

Travel with the killer in his childhood to try and gain some of the reasons why he became the person that he did. Finally allow me to introduce you to the person who took it upon himself to change his life forever.

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Thank you.