Monday, May 26, 2008

Can I remember how to do this?

I have a 3 hour interview tomorrow, consisting of a presentation which I've just finished, a written exercise I get on the day and then more questions, (probably) competency and results-based. The first interview was lots about me so I suspect they'll want the detail in this one.

I wonder if I can remember how to do this. I think my approach is about right, they're asking me about NPD. (New product development, just in case you're not fully versed in the world of marketing acronyms.) Whether my copywriting will be up to scratch, I'm not sure. And I've still to try and remember what on earth I achieved over all those years in the office.

Still, I get to wear some new clothes bought on my funky Amex Red card. I'll look good if nothing else.

I'm scared! This is definitely the first real rehabilitation hurdle. I'll let you know if it sends me rushing out to book the first plane ticket to NZ, just in time for the start of the ski season.

Sunday, May 18, 2008

What goes around comes around
















Look what's in the front window of Office.

I didn't quite manage to get the day-glo orange ones in the picture.

The colours are more fun this time round, but otherwise they are exactly the same. Oh, the 80s. There was even a shop assistant who looked just like Irene Carra. I swear. Big hair and leggings.

If there's anyone who wishes to indulge in teenage memory/ fantasy, here's the You Tube link to that scene from Flashdance.

(And if there's anyone wanting to relive Lee's sterling performance as Irene, here he is. Absolutely brilliant, even if I didn't get the slide down the stairs.)

Tuesday, May 13, 2008

My countries

Ok, so I'm supposed to be doing some research on networks and which ones are the best to connect social change organisations and people. It's rather interesting. Like Facebook but with a purpose.

Instead I've created a map of my countries. Look. I've only visited 8% of the world, and to colour in all of the US and Canada makes it appear like I've seen a fair amount of both these countries which is not the case, they are just so vast.

Sigh. Wistful and pointless longing for more overseas adventures as opposed to trips to the Montrose Job Centre.













create your own visited country map

The Benefits Centre

That should be the new name for the Job Centre. I arrived this morning to 'sign on'. Process as follows.

"You're here to sign on? Just take a seat for now." I wait patiently for 5 minutes. An advisor near me is on the phone, explaining benefit entitlement. The caller is not eligible for the full jobseeker's allowance because his partner is on incapacity benefit. £102 a week for incapacity benefit, £94.50 jobseeker's allowance if you're a couple.

"Hi there Hannah. So, how's the job search going?"

"Yes, not too bad, I have a few irons in the fire."

"If you could just sign here. Have you received a letter from the Benefits Office yet? You're entitled to £60.50 a week which will be paid into your account on Friday, there's a separate cheque for £25.93 coming to you as well for the first few days. See you in a couple of weeks."

That was it. No more questions asked. No questions about what jobs I'd seen, whether I'd applied, if I'd called people to see how my application was progressing, whether I'd had any feedback on my applications, what I was going to do next, whether I needed any help or any further information..... nothing! In and out in 10 minutes flat. Boom. It was the easiest £60.50 ever.

Now, perhaps I'm getting different treatment because I've filled in my little booklet asking me to keep a record of my job search (which nobody actually follows up, so I can say what I like) but it strikes me that we're missing a huge opportunity to support and coach jobseekers. Surely what the unemployed need is encouragement and support on how to get back to work? I know I am bored out of my mind, and I'm trying really hard to structure and manage my day (as opposed to getting stuck on Crackbook and wishing I was in Alaska with Chris or being a raft guide with Sarah.) It is hard. It is limbo land and I can see it would be so easy to get stuck.

I do wonder about the benefits system. Whilst I support some basic state help so people don't starve, I'm also fully aware that without it, I'd be working in Tesco by now.

Getting my benefit so easily has also made me think about funding social care for the elderly. The population of over 85s will double in the next 20 years. That's incredible. I'm sure we'll have this sorted by the time our generation gets old and have adopted some kind of American insurance system, but what about now? Where are their families? And what about those who don't have well-off families?

We don't have enough money to pay for their care but yet we give money to able-bodied, mentally healthy people like me who should be working. And we have the money to be in Iraq.....

Mairi went to play the music for a WRI choir last night, they were doing a performance for the Montrose Senior Citizens Club. At the end of each meeting, the Senior Citizens all sing this song together. To me it seems like the death march but way more cheerful! You go Senior Citizens.
The End of the Road
Every road through life is a long, long road,
Filled with joys and sorrows too,
As you journey on how your heart will yearn
For the things most dear to you.
With wealth and love 'tis so,
But onward we must go.

Keep right on to the end of the road,
Keep right on to the end,
Tho' the way be long, let your heart be strong,
Keep right on round the bend.
Tho' you're tired and weary still journey on,
Till you come to your happy abode,
Where all the love you've been dreaming of
Will be there at the end of the road.

With a big stout heart to a long steep hill,
We may get there with a smile,
With a good kind thought and an end in view,
We may cut short many a mile.
So let courage every day
Be your guiding star always.

Chorus: Keep right on to the end of the road....

It was written by somebody called Harry Lauder, right after his son died in the First World War.

And is also the Birmingham FC song.

Tuesday, May 6, 2008

Golf lessons

Golf. The mere mention of the word conjures up all sorts of memories. An enforced session of hitting shots at the airfield at 17 before I got the much-desired driving lesson. Sandy Lyle, Nick Faldo, Seve Ballesteros. The Open. Hours of droning commentary on the TV. High Tea at the Royal Montrose as a family treat. Edzell Golf Club. My mother's annoyance and upset when Dad didn't appear home in time for tea or buggered off to practice as opposed to helping her get their four kids fed and ready for bed.

Golf permeated my childhood. With a father who thought about being a pro and is still a very good golfer, it was never going to be any other way.

As a result, I've stayed as far away from it as possible. So I'm still rather surprised at even going for my two golf lessons. I'd volunteered to hit balls on Sunday, basically because I thought it might be an opportunity for a bonding session with Euan's new girlfriend. However, my father took this as a green light to introduce me to his beloved game.

Yesterday was spent on my swing. Today on chipping and putting. This afternoon I've been left with the swing setter, a gadget to help me get my hand position right and feel the rhythmn of the swing. I must say - and I can't believe I'm writing this - I can see the appeal. It's a mind game.
It's all about skill and the ability to harness that skill, to remain calm and centred when you're hitting those little white balls everywhere apart from where you want them to go. There are definitely parallels with skiing which Dad has cleverly tapped into in his lessons. "Stay centred over your feet. Good, you're not collapsing into your swing which most beginners do. You'll have strong legs from the skiing." He knows me too well. Make a link with skiing or praise my skiing ability in any way and I'll automatically pay attention.
It's been fantastic weather the last couple of days. The Links is a great place to be in the sunshine; a light breeze, the smell of the gorse, sunshine, blue sky and the sound of the sea.

Golfing. Me. I can't believe it. The lengths one will go to when one is not gainfully employed.

Friday, May 2, 2008

Can this really be true?

Boris is Mayor of London. When I left 14 months ago, he was pretty much a figure of ridicule. It wasn't unusual to bump into him out and about in London, pissed as a fart and doing his 'ra ra ra' Boris thing. I remember seeing him in the Duchess of Kent in Highbury one Tuesday night, propping up the bar for last orders.

Now, it appears Ken has been in way too long and so anyone else will do. I agree that this piece by Zoe Williams is rather sloppy commentary, but I share her amazement. I must have missed something since I've been away.

I listened to some radio reporting on the local elections. To paraphrase: "I voted Conservative today. It's all gone to pot since Labour have been in power. My daughter can't even get a mortgage."

Since when has the government really had anything to do with the economy? All they can do is tinker around the edges. It seems as if we just swing from one person to the other without much consideration. "I don't like the way life is so I'm voting for someone else. Maybe they can fix it."

I must admit, I'm really not surprised we're all so disillusioned with politics. We also seem very keen to avoid any personal responsibility for the state we're in. "It's all the government's fault."

Thursday, May 1, 2008

Step four: sign on

When was the last time you were in a job centre? For me, I think it was 1996, when I first left the safety of university and wondered how on earth I was going to support myself. (Not so different to now really....)

How things have changed. Gone are the days of white cards on the walls, as modelled here by Mrs T. Of course, now the jobs are advertised online.
The Montrose Job Centre has a beautiful old building to call home and it's all modern inside, with pine floors, open plan desks and smart women chatting amongst themselves. Gone are the numbered tickets and lines of people queuing to meet some grumpy, clueless middle-aged advisor with dandruff.
In contrast, a smart, attractive blonde woman approached me and gave me phone numbers to call about benefits, plus a list of recruitment agencies in Aberdeen and Dundee. How organised. I'm just off the phone to the benefits line, a guy based in a call centre in the north of England - good to know the government is supporting the growth of these soulless places. We chatted about Las Vegas, he's just back from 8 days there. (8 days! What stamina! In fact, let's just have a look at those pics again.... oh what fun.)
The best of the hundred stupid questions: "Do you suffer from any industrial illness?" I couldn't help but laugh. "Why yes, I had an allergic reaction to the whole system a year ago and I'm not sure I've quite managed to get that under control yet."
So, my interview with my personal advisor is on Tuesday. We set out a plan for me to find work and hopefully, s/he approves my jobseeker's allowance.
I'm impressed with how easy and humane the whole process has been so far. You go Job Centres.