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Signing On (19/8)

My appointment with my adviser (assigned at the 3 month period for what would seem the rest of time) was for 10 past 10 in the am today. I turn up 5 minutes earlier and declare my arrival at the front desk only to find almost 15 minutes later that my appointment isn't with the adviser at all. At this point I'm about 20 minutes away from my bus which, if i miss, means i have to wander around town for 3 hours - and there's nothing to do in town, believe me. Unless you like charity shops (I don't dislike them at all, but that's all there are).
The desk wallah informs me quite matter of factly that I don't have an appointment as I had assumed, despite me producing the appointment card that I show her. A regular signing is performed instead. I find all this very confusing. Would it have been too difficult to just inform me of this in the first place - or at the time the appointment was made (4 weeks ago).
I can't help worrying this is the precursor to my finally being shipped off to the Work programme, which I am dreading. I am absolutely dreading it. I suffer an anxiety disorder and the very thought of having to deal with this sort of bullshit (again) is causing me serious grief. Unfortunately I have no way to know what's going on. To be fair it's possible the adviser was so booked up that a regular signing was substituted instead. They are apparently very busy on Friday's because no one wants to work on Fridays (you'd think they'd be contracted to, but apparently it isn't that simple). So now I'm worried that the postman, each morning, is going to leave me a nasty surprise. Despite what sites such as this would like to think I bet it's far from illegal. And I bet that if I go back to my GP (who is supposed to be organising an aspergers diagnosis - for all the good it will do) and say "this is one demand too far, I can't cope with this" he'll resort to the usual Victorian work ethic pseudo religious 'work heals all' crap that we always get told.
The unemployed are just not being heard or respected. Whatever schemes are dreamed up any problems you have facing up to them or dealing with them are never enough because being unemployed is just deemed so terrible. This is a myth. In fact I think the powers that be just don't like all those independent though alarms going off and people being allowed to think for themselves in case they realise "hey I'm getting shafted here!". I've got stuff I work on in my own time which has every chance of being successful. But the chances of the DWP funding that are somewhere between slim and none. Nope, better off being made to apply for endless zero hour contracts or desk jobs in pointless office bureaucracies.

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I Fucking Hate the Work Programme

That did not go well.
My legs were wobbly to begin with as I closed in on the church that passes for the office of the employment wing of the Salvation Army. My appointment was 3 to half past. I really did feel sick. Pretty early on, when he asked for the forms he gave me last time to fill in, I knew that what was arranged on the letter (a short interview with me bringing my CV and jobsearch) was actually going to be much longer. I also knew that, come half three when I had to leave to catch my bus back ten minutes later, I was going to have problems. 
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Anybody Out There?

Just so I can be sure this is being read at all and decide whether it's worth continuing, please shout out in the comments. Even if you think I'm talking barmy bollocks, it'd be helpful to know if there are people reading this and not weird bots from phishing sites or Russian hackers or some weird sentient algorithm.

Apologies if you are none of those things, but I'm considering what to do with this blog.

Thanks

ADD

Thursday today (unless time has confused me again!), the day between yesterday's appointment with The Psychologist, and signing on tomorrow. A brief oasis for me to discuss said appointment as it was a test for 'neurodiverse tendencies'. I think that's the best way of putting it; it's all a bit vague really. When I first saw The Psychologist I mentioned that I was in the process of trying to get a diagnosis for Aspergers to which she replied she could do a test that, while not an official diagnosis, could count towards one - or something. Something official anyway, though bizarrely after the test was completed (took a couple of hours) she said she wasn't trained for Aspergers specifically.

The test itself was a kind of Krypton Factor lite (sans exercise course): a mix of recall, pattern recognition, problem solving, and questionnaire. I was asked to arrange coloured blocks into a prescribed pattern, to spot what was missing from a series of pictures, to guess fr…