The Secret Language

One of the interesting things about neuro diversity is how it shapes your relationship to the world. This is not always a bad thing, though the problem with it isn’t how it can inspire the kind of creativity or genius that more intense ‘sufferers’ can experience. The issue is how the regular workaday world is completely at odds with you. That is my problem. It isn’t really even accurate to call it a medical problem, but the only way I can try and draw attention to my needs is through that process, hence going through the Work Capability nonsense.

I don’t deal with change particularly well. Perhaps in a weird way unemployment – though obviously limiting due to financial reasons – is a comfort to the neuro diverse. I had a friend who once said everyone should experience a period of unemployment. I think he was right; if nothing else you see how the tie around your neck is more shackle than style.

People look to religion to find their place in the world. I refute the existence of a higher authority and the man made systems that men built in His name to control the rest of us. However I reserve the right to use what might be termed ‘spirituality’ as a language; a way of communicating with the world my feet are standing on in the place and time I live.

To that end the changing of the seasons, the pattern of the clouds, and the line of trees on the horizon as I look out the window, the angle and position of the sun in the sky are important. They are as hands on a clock. I wonder if I could ever live anywhere else. I was in London for a month a decade ago when I tried and failed to attend a university course (for various reasons, mainly due to it being shit and expensive in the post grant world). I could not even relax in my rented digs. I couldn’t unpack. I felt like a permanent visitor. It wasn’t even so much the intensity of the capital urban landscape; Ealing was a relatively benign sea of concrete (I wonder if that’s still the case).

As the seasons pass I can sense their particular flavour in the same way I can sense the day of the week. Each has its own feel. Not in a mystical – that is, fluffy – way; as opposed to religion this is real mystery. I find that I am acutely aware, on some level, of the differences in the environment particular to different times. The levels of brightness, the intensity and fecundity (or lack thereof) of the land and how it obscures (or not) the pylons on the skyline ten miles away, how the sun sets just behind the tall trees on the left in winter, how it sits in the middle of the sky getting red on my birthday, and how the air feels when it’s warm. Perhaps this is nonsense and everyone notices these things.

This is religion to me. This is the secret code of the world that cannot be expressed through clocking in to a machine or following the orders of Bob from HR. This is the real world and it lives and breathes irrespective of how much money some Welsh tosser with a Napoleon complex tells me he can help me save. This is life. It does not require that I do anything: it doesn’t ask me to bungee jump to my gap year death; it does not require that I earn enough money or date a supermodel. It is almost pagan in that it is the connection men forge with their particular surroundings and how they mark the passing of time.

But that relationship is being threatened. Not just by the Coalition’s attempts to curtail my finances in lieu of my ability to deny that world, but in the changes wrought by human hands. That skyline is threatened by a row of super pylons that the electricity people want to be built. The environment isn’t the lucid blue sky I remember from yesteryear in the summer, instead the months post winter remain cold long after they should. The jet stream has moved pulled, in my non-scientific opinion, by the man made currents of climate change. If people do not believe our climate is in serious flux then I believe they are very ignorant. Summer used to be that period where time itself would melt into the sky and you could lie on the grass staring into azure infinity sublimating yourself into an ocean of sky. Now it is cold and wet. Our crops are threatened and our world is changing.

It is likely that humans will adapt. They will have to, whether you live in a green and pleasant land or in the seeming (and teeming) flood plains of the east in countries like Bangladesh. But this transition is going to be painful; we have forsaken any chance to turn back the tide of carbon emissions. We are going to miss our targets and all our efforts will seem to have been in vain while idiots like James Delingpole argue that fracking wells make more benign and pretty neighbours than a windmill. This is the insanity of the modern world and it is only just getting warmed up.

Redline Britain

There are a lot more things I have to say than I ever blog about. Unfortunately I’m too lazy to be a citizen journalist and, if you gaze yonder eastwards, you’ll see a list of far better people than I to get facts from. Besides, this blog was mainly intended as a personal catharsis with observations on the world as it now turns. Sometimes though things have to be said.

On Question Time this past Thursday, professional fence sitter and coalition nobody, Simon Hughes MP, revealed that, during the Coalition negotiations, Osbourne wanted to penalise JSA claims by 10% in the second year. This, claimed Hughes, was his red line. I don’t know if this is true, though it’s hardly a leap of faith to presume the Tories would dream up something so punitive.

It was a revealing morsel: it tells us that everything we have endured so far, along with what is to come, is necessary and acceptable. All of it Simon thinks is necessary; the destruction of a society and the impoverishment of an economy upon which we are all so dependent, like a life raft floating in a hurricane. This could not be more telling: cutting ESA from people by virtue of a private programme that doesn’t use medical practice, a Work Programme that has failed to the point it actively inhibits work chances, benefits cut for the slightest reason on presumption of guilt not innocence – and that is one aspect of the austerity programme. None of this stands on the right side of that redline, but cutting benefit by £7 in year two (which is indeed loathsome) was the straw that would break his back.

This is typical of the liberal democrats who snatched defeat from the jaws of victory in claiming that getting the poorest out of tax was a success. They don’t pay tax because they have no money; they can’t even pay VAT because they have no money to buy goods with. This isn’t a success it just further shrinks the economy because there will be less money coming in while these people will require financial support – something that’s being withdrawn as quickly and as quietly as possible. All that’s left are the supermarkets who pay fuck all for their merchandise and their staff which means less money going around. I can’t shop locally for this reason. It is insanity. It is liberal democrat policy.

Meanwhile the media has succeeded in getting people to agree with all of this. Paying benefits is a sign of social failure and a cause of social unrest, instilling unacceptable virtue. Borrowing money is what that nasty Mr Brown did – despite the nasty Mr Cameron and the nasty Mr Osbourne pledging the match Brown’s plans and calling for even lighter financial control. The crash was everything the Tories could have hoped for – yet they still didn’t win the election. It took Clegg and his friend Simon to proclaim the new king. I think it self evident that, had Cameron been in charge during 2008, he would have bailed out the banks – and probably more. He would probably have tried ushering in austerity even then, at the behest of JP Morgan who, we now learn, have a blueprint for our society. Likely he would have failed. It is ironic then that Mr Brown was the best Tory they never had.

Osbourne has increased the time claimants have to wait before claiming to a week. This is not just stealing money from the unemployed on the basis of future claims (in much the same way he claims not to like stealing money from future generations, hence the cuts – apparently). It is further cementing unemployment into the system. We already know that capitalism uses unemployment to keep wages low (and besides who really thinks we could ever have full employment from here on out), but this notion of using unemployment to introduce further cuts is nasty. It is using unemployment to punish unemployment financially. But the voters love it.

He also wants the unemployed in for weekly signing sessions as the norm. This already happens after 13 weeks (and presumably is part of the approach Hoban wants as punishment for failing the failing Work Programme). How this will save money is not clear. It has never helped people: getting people to attend weekly has only ever been seen as a punitive measure. A means of feeling the collar a bit harder: “we’re keeping an eye on you, you lazy git!” Jobcentre Plus has been under the cosh of cuts for years now, starting with labour. Now it’s needed more than ever it is far from safe from the axe man’s attentions. When I was signing they were understaffed: I could not get a regular signing time because of their hopeless system, nor a regular adviser as Fridays seemed to be the day most people weren’t contracted to work (or they were all skivers). None of this makes sense…that is unless you believe they intend to keep this within the public sector.

Fortunately I am listening to Animals by Pink Floyd as I write this; it is the only way to stay sane.

Dependence

No mate, you’re just paid by Barclays. You don’t have a job. They just pay you to tell me that ripping people off while expecting me to honour my debts is reasonable. That’s not a job. That’s not contributing or bettering society or even this community. You’re no less a benefit recipient than I; the difference is you’ve got a name badge and a tie. I’ve got a Jobseeker’s Agreement.

That’s what I tell myself each time I pay my pittance to Barclays each month for making the mistake of getting into (a relatively small amount of) debt as a student. Interestingly at the time Barclays were part of the college infrastructure whose advice to students worried about how they’d finance themselves was to borrow.

We’re all dependent on money, and the money comes from on high. We’re like the Israelites weaned in the desert on heavenly mana, except our gods are the corporate elite and their politician acolytes. We need money to live – interestingly the words almost sound the same: mana/money. Weird.

These people, if you can call them that, control the world we live in. austerity is their current weapon of choice. You’d be wrong in thinking it doesn’t benefit them, because it does. It might not benefit my local corner shop, but compared to Tesco (who is rapidly squeezing out that kind of enterprise) they are overpriced. That’s because austerity leaves people unable to afford anything else. It also keeps customers compliant and susceptible to the latest slice of ‘every little helps’.

Unemployment means an equally compliant workforce. Apparently 5000 people applied for 275 vacancies in a new Tesco somewhere in Midlands. That means 4775 scroungers still failing to make the grade; they clearly need punishment them for their fallings. But it’s all going to plan: move public money into the pockets of the ruling elite and curtail opportunity for the rest who are to be nothing more than a cheap labour force. I have just been to Tesco’s careers page, though I have no intention of working for them, they have graduate programmes. So you’ve just spent several years learning cutting edge science or theory that you’d hoped to put to use repelling the boundaries of science, perhaps to create new medicines or devices. Nope, you get to be trained to process unexpected items in bagging areas.

What a huge waste. But again, it’s all part of the plan. We are not led by visionaries; we are led by one interest alone: profit. Anything that doesn’t suit that plan is disregarded and marginalised. People with dreams and aspiration, despite the use of that term by the government, are dangerous and surly. They need to rein those ideas in; that’s why Osbourne talks about striving and skiving; sublimate your ambitions – and with his final words Winston said “I aspire to TESCO!”

The clock strikes thirteen once again.

PS it’s bad enough they get my dole money as the only place I can afford to shop. You’d think then no one would complain: money goes out, money goes back in.

PPS Mark Littlewood, go fuck yourself you evil piece of scar tissue.

Silent Scandal

So what is the reality of mental health on the Work Programme? It seems pretty poor. Is this a provider unique issue? I cannot know personally; I was assigned to Employment Plus by deign of the machinery of the DWP. I’m given to believe that process is based not on need or suitability (assuming any differences or areas of expertise among providers) but on who has the fewest customers at the time. Anecdotal evidence does seem to suggest that my experience is not unique. I can well believe it.

But this is not solely a problem of the adequacy of providers. While I am of course critical of the attitude undertaken by my (former) adviser, the problems run much deeper. He is only saying what he’s been drilled to say – in fact that ‘only following orders mentality’ is another and large symptom.

It goes beyond even the Work Programme itself. This attitude is systemic. It permeates the DWP from tip to toe. We all know how difficult it can be dealing with advisers, even Disability specialists. The individual that I had seen in the past couldn’t, for example, understand why I found it difficult working in busy places and made a fuss with my Jobseekers Agreement at the time. She insisted I remove retail work entirely, regardless of where I might find a job and regardless of that being the only work I’d done. Not only that but there was no suitable alternative offered and she looked down at me like I’d tried claiming that my dog had eaten my homework.

This is the attitude from the corporate filth at the top. We are blighted having this class ruling us. What use are the mentally ill, the ‘difficult’, to them? Even doctors struggle to answer that question and they are supposed to help the ill or the unwell. Doctors routinely shy away from dealing with matters related to benefits; they are averse to dealing with claims and claimants like garlic to vampires.

No one wants to help people with difficulties because there’s no money to be made. This attitude has infected society festering into a weeping sore of division and disapproval. People in the street do the jackboot job of the corporate elite; happy to judge others on their behalf like a cross between Neighbourhood Watch and ATOS. The mentally ill must be judged and made pariahs publicly. It is for their own good. There is a time and a place that this reminds me of, but Godwin’s Law prevents me from naming it. I think you know what I mean.

The People’s Assembly meets on Saturday in Westminster. I can’t attend, but I can only hope that, despite the sneering prejudice that, sadly, it has already attracted, something positive comes from that. There’s no doubt that those sniffy of the likes of Owen Jones might have a point. Grimly, they may be proven right. But to them I say: give it a chance. Hear what they have to say on Saturday and then make a judgement. I certainly agree we need deeds not words, and we need then en mass in solidarity and right now. The unions have abandoned us, particularly the PCS whose agents enact the sanctions against the poorest, rendering them from society utterly, and Labour has turned blue. The silent scandal of mental difficulty must not go on.

The Call Centre

A new horror has emerged from the Stygian depths we know as BBC Three. It is called 'The Call Centre', a show purporting to be fly on the wall inside the Welsh headquarters of Saving Britain Money. This epic hellhole is overseen by a man presumably brought back from some past medical dilemma by the blood of David Brent. The script of The Office flows in his DNA to the point one can legitimately question the authenticity of the whole project. In fact it is probably healthy to be that cynical because what lies within is beyond description.

That overseer is known simply and only as 'Nev', presumably shorthand for 'Never Again', in the way one speaks of concentration camps. Speaking of which this particular gulag is populated by a crew of sales hungry back combed spray tan enthusiasts whose life stories comprise the narrative of the programme. In the first episode, of the two broadcast thus far, we meet Hayley who's love life she mistakenly made available to 'Nev'. This became the ultimate challenge, in his mind: to find Hayley a fella - never mind how she might feel about it. In the process this bumbling fifty something lump of insensitivity proceeds to embarrass her in the way industrial tribunals are not fond of. His behaviour waves off any notion of sensitivity or tact - all of which, in Brent fashion, he would regard as good humoured, vacillating between cringe inducing and genuine harassment. 

During the same episode 'Nev' is interviewing new recruits with two prime examples of the man's laughable pandering to his much much younger workforce. Firstly, during a group interview/welcome session one person at the back of the room makes the mistake of yawning. This compels 'Nev' into a fake rage, as some demonstration of the kind of vim and vigour he wants to inspire in his sales force, culminating in the launching of a savoury projectile at the yawning captive. You don't yawn on 'Nev's' watch! Secondly and as a dismal ending to this farce, an 18 year old wannabe called Natalie is paraded through the sales floor like a piece of meat while 'Nev', like a Town Cryer reading Fifty Shades of Grey, proclaims "Beautiful Welsh girl coming through, you'd give her a job wouldn't you lads?" 

There's tears, tantrums (one girl is demoted to tea lady through her tardiness, blissfully unaware she's been reduced in stature from callmaker to teamaker and mistress of the urn), spray tan and sick, and a girl (the same tea girl) in hotpants with a face like an orange rabbit clearing it up. Dont' worry, it was her sick.

Saving Britain Money. I'm not entirely sure how; the narrative is interspersed with clips of the staff being soundly rejected by the Britain whose Money they are inexplicably trying to Save. It isn't explained how the company works and it doesn't seem to matter. These are the people that ring you up at Inappropriate O'Clock to sell you, variously, PIP claims or Cavity Wall insulation grants - basically whatever the latest bullshit scam is, they are on it. The only success these people can claim comes from, presumably, the sheer volume of calls they make. The law of averages is in their favour, not the quality of their service or product.

The second episode featured more of the same telling the sad story of George, an outsider from the wilds of England who desperately wanted to fight into an environment he clearly was at odds with. It was painful watching; George was clearly a nice guy making every effort to fit in. But it was clear he was better than this venal carnival. The essence of his story, as described with customary tact by 'Nev', was his failure with the women - and what a thing for a young man to bear. An utter failure of masculinity. 

Of course that macho trope is pure bollocks. However in a speed dating event set up by, you guessed it, 'Nev' he had only one woman expressed any interest. Unfortunately for him, cruelly cementing his outsider status, she had no real interest in him. His sales team had gotten wind of this and coached him to blow her out before she got the chance to do likewise. The whole alpha male point scoring exercise (us blokes gotta stick together) was painful to watch and was of course met with the not-so-silent approval of his peers. A desperate instinctual attempt by George to rise in stature within the pack that had the unfortunate effect of portraying the woman negatively, even 'Nev' described her in a faintly unsavoury fashion, jokingly referring to her as 'a bit of a maneater'.

And that is the wonderful world of modern Britain, where dreams go to die.

10 0 Clock Dead

"There's a show, keeps on annoying me

Late at night, on a Tuesday-eee!

10 0 Clock Live perhaps you've heard

About as entertaining as a turd

Lauren Laverne, she ain't no wit

David Mitchell painfully sarcastic

Charlie Brooker and Jimmy Carr 

Proselytising from afar"

(to be sung to the tune of the Littlest Hobo).

Why are you slagging this off? You might ask. Well, stop shouting at me and I'll tell you. 

It isn't that Charlie and David aren't funny. Indeed they are very clever, if rather tedious (same shit, different day). Jimmy Carr on the other hand is a pillock; he's another sneering aimless comedian that trades on malaise and indifference - never mind the hypocrisy of satirising tax avoidance while avoiding tax. The less said about Lauren 'am I a comedian yet?' Laverne the better; I've always found her deeply pretentious. She is sup up herself she could use her colon as a handbag.

No, the problem is that this show offers no solutions. I'd rather listen to the People's Assembly and speakers like Owen Jones and Mark Steel (who IS funny) than these tired hacks. You can bet that the 10 0 Clocksters are being paid handsomely for their comfortably delivered and extremely safe satire, just as you can rely on their tedious audience of media students to lap it all up. The whole thing is a vehicle for their egos. 

That would be fine if the whole thing went somewhere, but it doesn't. It's just 4 rich white people from comfortable suburbia lecturing us on what it's currently fashionable to bash. They lack the courage of UK Uncut (proper heroes) but seem bred from the same stable. Instead of sitting behind a desk and shouting, Charlie, why not get off your comfortably paid arse and effect some change. Same with the rest of them. Talk is cheap, you are not and you can fuck off. I want solutions, not cheap potshots at easy targets. This is just laziness that breeds more of the malaise Carr and his ilk feed off. Do something, not just 'Barclays avoid tax...that's bad!"

It's self gratification: same with shows like Have I Got News For You. People like Hislop that take the piss out of everyone. That would be fine if he had any answers. But he doesn't so what are we doing? Token MP turns up to engage in a consensual roasting when the show should be something MP's genuinely fear to go on. In more enlightened times this might be ok, but we are not in those times. The society is on fire, people are at each other's throats, and this kind of intellectual masturbation becomes how we appease our turbulence. It's not enough.

Health Advisers?

I thought I'd give Employment Plus a ring to see what training their staff are supposed to have (officially speaking) in terms of mental health. Their contact number is on their website - as is an advert for a Job Life Coach (their term for Work Programme advisers). There is no mention of mental health expertise or training so I decide to ring them to ask about that specifically. This is their response (once again subject to amusing pitch manipulation - bear in mind the volume isn't great):

Curious they mention services unknown to me. Tellingly these include a health adviser that comes to the centre one could speak to. I suppose their response would be that such people are only available in larger centres (if at all). If that's true then surely the adviser could at least have mentioned this to me, could have perhaps arranged for me to see them - or something. Nope, no mention at all; just told that, in liue of bringin g a support worker, I have no problems because I'm on JSA (which of course = full health happy times).

Now I can't really take this as gospel; the person I spoke to did make it clear she isn't a Job Life Coach herself, so she could be mistaken. To give her the benefit of the doubt this then is not something she made up, but could be something that once existed and now no longer does and, not being a JLC, she wouldn't know that. That said, why not make sure you have such people in place? Did you not think you'd be dealing with people that have particular needs, or do you just think God would help them?

More Timeless Wisdom!

On the journey:

On training:

To be fair, I've edited these conversations down quite a bit, and of course the voices have been hilariously munchkinised for everyone's protection! However there isn't much that can really be argued to be out of context. I was asked about what my long term goal was and, unfortunately, didn't really argue my case very well in saying I was interested in writing. That was because of the nature of the situation and the fact that I don't really trust or like the adviser well enough to confide anything. 

The nub of the issue is that these people come to you with severe expectations: they have a clear view of how the process should work and how you should respond. If you struggle to meet those expectations, and I did because I simply cannot function in that way - I don't think like that, then you are going to come a cropper. it may seem reasonable to argue then that as a customer I'm being obstructive and not cooperating; certainly that's how he saw it. But in truth they offered nothing - hence the clip about training. I don't even know why I was asked about long term job goals; we spent 15 minutes arguing about writing when it was abundantly clear they had no intention of helping with that - that's why I was expected to find my own volunteer opportunities. In fact he hoped to put on the action plan (that never was) that I'd be expected to contact 6 voluntary sources about writing a week, with absolutely no help to do so. I live in a small village, not Drury Lane! The only source for volunteer work is do-it.org and they don't have lots of writing (if any) jobs at all. It might be different in a busy city. 

So it's not unreasonable to ask me to look online, but to expect me to find loads of stuff, to say that charities always want writers (which he did, though how he knows this I don't know), and to offer no help, is ridiculous. Ultimately he just wants to tick boxes. Saying I have a long term goal is just cosmetic. He wanted me to agree to jump through hoops and hand over my CV so his people, his 'Employment Engagement Coordinators' can apply for jobs (ostensibly - god knows where my cv would end up, just take a look at the nonsense on Universal Jobmatch!) without my knowledge. Given that he's happy to ignore the problems I have how can anyone think that's a recipe for success. Or am I wrong? What do you think?

The Timeless Wisdom of Employment Plus

I thought it might be fun/stupid/irresponsible to upload choice cuts from my time with a guru so wise his wisdom appears to my mundane ears as ill considered bullshit. This was the last time (i sincerely hope) I saw this awful adviser who has, i have discovered, behaved with remarkable abandon regarding the data protection act. For added amusement I have increased the pitch of the voice. Might seem a bit bizarre but it wouldn't be fair to leave it so either of us could be identified (yes that sounds paranoid, but then I am). 

On CV's:
On chucking toys out the pram:



On mental health:

Speaks for itself I think. Also there is another adviser not three feet away in the tiny kitchenette at the back of the church hall that passes for their Work Programme nerve centre. He's dealing with someone else. How's that for discretion and privacy!

I welcome any comments on this, even though I sound like a massively smug bastard high on helium!

I'm actually genuinely interested in how it's perceived outside of myself. It's very difficult to be objective sometimes when you have these kinds of issues in yer head!

I'm sure there are some that would sympathise with my adviser and I've tried to be fair, if harsh, with what happened; but I cannot deal with people that behave like this. This guy is so full of rules and regulations (assuming there are so many rules and it isn't the flexible black box we've been told about) and so full of 'we're going on a journey' that it borders on the absurd. At times it's not a million miles from David Brent!

The Kingdom of ATOS

Today I had my ATOS assessment. This is my story.

I arrived at the door and pressed the buzzer to gain ingress into the Kingdom of Atos. The stern reply asked me to identify myself only to be told my appointment was cancelled the day before. I am given permission to enter the strange and secret world within, hopefully to get an explanation at least.

Upstairs I find the receptionist has the wrong person's file. A cursory examination of the letter I'm visibly clutching would reveal the mistake. Instead the receptionist is in a bad mood; combative, moody and defensive. Apparently she spoke to me yesterday; I dare to correct her. She insists; again I retort; then an explanation: “I think you’ve got the wrong person.” Indeed.

Turns out she’s reading a file belonging to someone named similarly. Not quite sure why we have gotten off on this foot; she offers a rather pinch faced 'apology' of the kind that begins and ends, "I do apologise sir". In other words too formal. I say “no problem”, I’m a little short of breath; it’s warm and I’m rather tense. In fact I’m very tense. Fortunately there are only a couple of people in the waiting room, one of whom gets called in fairly quickly.

In order to gain entrance to the Kingdom of Atos one must bring three magic scrolls to prove one's identity to the great gods within. As luck would have it the supporting material I am carrying supplements the dog eared birth certificate that passes for the only formal paperwor I ownk. I’m not entirely sure what happens when the border agents of the Kingdom aren’t satisfied; presumably one's journey comes to a rather abrupt and inconclusive end. No thank you. I sign the form that heralds my arrival and am casually informed there is a MASSIVE FUCKING DELAY and that I will likely have to wait over an hour. The Kingdom is short staffed.

Now, look, this is patently ridiculous and it’s not helped by having to deal with stroppy receptionists. I’m getting very frustrated with this and I find it rather easy to tell her this as she incorrectly observes that I’m being rude. Apparently querying her mistakes and not accepting her apologies with regal and saintly grace isn’t enough. Delays are one thing: who has ever seen their GP on time? Certainly not me, but it’s a short walk to my doctors which is a much more suitable environment occupied by objective supportive NHS (for now) doctors, not ‘healthcare professionals’ and their mardy subordinates!Who's to say if I'd had to rebook my appointment I wouldn't again have a MASSIVE FUCKING DELAY?

As i take my seat the next patient arrives, an older woman with an eastern European accent and a visibly uncomfortable gait. Clearly she’s not well. She arrives ten minutes after me, and at this point there is only one person ahead of me, a lady with a leg problem I assume as she has her legs resting on another chair. I can’t really hear their conversation but it’s a similar thing (though less acerbic given that the older lady isn’t a troublemaker like me) – she has to choose to either wait forever or rebook. On top of this, the receptionist says that if you’re experiencing any kind of discomfort you’d have to rebook as they aren’t equipped to deal with people in pain, what with all the healthcare professionals around.

The waiting area is not really geared for this: it’s a small (rather warm) room with a water machine and some reasonably comfy chairs; no special support of any kind. This might seem picky, but I suspect making people potentially wait all day is not uncommon: are they equipped to deal with sick people having long to wait? Would they offer travel recompense to people unable to wait? I do know that that if you want your expenses paid you have to apply there and then and wait for at least a couple of weeks for them to send you a cheque. The Kingdom is cashless.

I forgot to mention: just prior to the subsequent patient’s arrival the stroppy receptionist calls me over to query something. Turns out, and for the first time IN MY ENTIRE LIFE, my signature is suspect: it appears the one I just provided does not match (according to her) the signature on my ESA50 form. Suddenly this receptionist betrays her past as Moneypenny; extraordinary! I am rather taken aback and relate the above point to her at which point she has another flounce “oh it doesn’t matter”. So what's the problem then? I give another signature; even though this signature doesn’t match the signature that didn't match...

So I’m looking at a long wait when the receptionist decides that actually I’m going to be seen in the next couple of minutes. Great, but… huh? Turns out the poor woman before me needs to be seen by a particularly specialised not-a-doctor who is assessing some other poor sod and that’s going to take a long time. For all I know, as I write this, she could be still there, waiting; the lonely ghost of ATOS.

Ok, that’s enough of the silly stuff, let’s get on to the assessment itself, and quickly. There isn’t really much to tell at this point. The whole experience is, to coin a phrase, a game of two halves: dealing with the receptionist is one thing, but the assessment is another matter entirely, conducted by someone with a more plesant demeanour. However, attitude isn't really what's important.

I take a somewhat fatalistic attitude toward all this; I don’t imagine I’m going to pass and I saw no point in engaging in subterfuge. It’s too much effort to concoct some bizarre story like I’m back at school trying to duck out of lessons through a convoluted story. This may well work against me, but given that people that are dying are being found fit for work I don’t think it would have made a jot of difference short of swallowing a dose of arsenic beforehand.

The assessment is a strange beast: it felt very casual. It’s not a medical process at all. These people are not doctors, no matter their previous and undisclosed lives. It’s all so…surreal and so…pointless; there's no diagnosis involved at all so they cannot know whether you legitimately have a problem. Instead it's based on conventional wisdom: so if you have the classic bad back you are going to struggle to convince someone you aren't swinging the lead because back pain is conventionally regarded as less severe.

It’s like having a conversation about your health with an acquaintance and listening to quackery or old wives tales. I told her about my hypoglycaemia and she said “ooh I’m the same”. It’s not a medical assessment; she is not a dietician, a doctor, an optician, nor a psychiatrist. Yet the assessment touches on all these things in so casual a way as to be meaningless. Behind her innocent façade could have beat the heart of a demon – and if it did, well too bad for me I guess! I presented my case, gave her a letter from the Positive Step people and left it at that.

I wonder if this is the picture readers were expecting: a tale of woe and struggle with the hated machine that is ATOS. In truth this whole WCA situation is too surreal to be taken seriously. I feel somewhat punch drunk; I’ve had to wait months for this appointment to come around. I’ve no idea whether I’ll have to wait months more for a decision. Even then that’s only the start of it all; I will have to decide whether to pursue a tribunal and get the GP to agree to more notes throughout, or deal with JSA again and the consequences that entails on the Work Programme.

ATOS is completely unsuited to this task. In fact any private IT company run for profit would be; what else can we expect? The real culprits beyond an organisation utterly unsuited to dealing with the sick and the disabled (never mind their anxiety) are the DWP. It is they that set the targets we all know exist, even if ATOS are wilfully compliant. It is they that make the final decision based on the same agenda: reduce the benefits bill.

Interestingly the assessor used the phrase “it’s the decision maker that decides what benefit you are suited to”. Of course that’s not quite true: they will not adjust your benefit, for example taking you off ESA and then putting you on JSA. They simply cut your ESA and leave you to either fend for yourself or go through the rigmarole of making a fresh JSA claim. Perhaps if they could simply change your benefit it might be easier – certainly it would save us and them a lot of hassle given the inevitably of the outcome of their decision making.

These assessments should be carried out be the NHS: by your GP or if he deems necessary by referral to specialists in such areas as mental health or bad backs or whatever it might be. That referral process could and should be supported and the assessments would be fair compassionate and objective, no matter how polite a healthcare professional might be. Why are we paying for this superfluous level of admin, overseen by people totally unsuited to the work at hand? It is a waste of everyone’s time and money and is clearly leading to devastating consequences particularly if you don’t happen to see a friendly and polite HCP. It is entirely likely that I had a less malevolent experience, compared to some, because they didn’t think my issues were remotely severe (which doesn’t bode well for me). It may well be that the more complex the conditions the more this process and their expertise crumbles.

We shouldn’t need this surreal process: sitting in an office and being medically examined in a non medical way using a non medical process by a non medical person, no matter how polite. This is the most bizarre set up imaginable; it’s like a cross between a GP’s waiting room, an airport flight lounge and the Black Lodge from Twin Peaks! GP’s shouldn’t have to write sick notes pretending they are fit notes and patients shouldn’t have to traipse across the county to appointments they shouldn’t need. All of this could be done by that thing we used to have in this country…the NHS. The doctors whose opinions once meant something before everyone got greedy. I want to be angry, but really I’m beyond that with this system. Maybe if I was in one of the more unfortunate and desperate cases that ATOS seems to unfailingly let down, like Linda Wooten. It’s almost farcical; a tragic comedy.

CV Permission

As I sit here I’ve got 6 hours to go before I have my appointment with a long wait in a scary place. Hopefully not too long.

When I woke up this morning I dug out the recording I’d made of my last encounter with the bullying Work Programme adviser I saw in November. 31 minutes made for painful and confused listening. I’d forgotten I’d recorded this; my MP3 player has a record function I might try and use later though I don’t anticipate anything particularly revelatory coming from it. I had intended to go through this recording and, after some judicious editing, upload it. I may do that later, not because I want to show off but so I can be as objective about the situation as I can. One of the most awful aspects of the Work Programme is how it can seed terrible self doubt; it’s difficult enough for me at the best of times trying to be objective about situations.

I’m not entirely sure listening back has helped my state of mind. I don’t think added anxiety was the best thing I could do to myself today! It is interesting and so I decided to contact Employment Plus again to clarify the situation regarding CV’s. The appointment ended acrimoniously when I refused to give up my CV to the adviser. I had offered, three times in fact, to show him the CV (I could have just sat there and said ‘yep, I’ll bring it next time’ and done nothing), he wasn’t interested. He insisted that not only was it ‘part of compliance’ (which means threat of sanctions if ignored) to hand over a CV, but he was specific that their staff, Employment Engagement Coordinators, needed it to apply for work on my behalf. I didn’t think that sounded productive then, and so I wanted to check.

Turns out I was right… as much as is possible to get anything clarified from the Work Programme. I have just spoken to a lady at the Bristol office (their main office didn’t seem to have anyone on hand who could answer) who confirmed they cannot and do not (at least explicitly) apply for jobs without my permission. So what does that make my former adviser if not a complete bullying liar? He was very specific as I’ve just explained. However it is a part of the Data Protection Act that they cannot change that information without my permission, nor can they just send it off to all and sundry. She herself admitted it would make no sense to do so (I don’t think she believed me, but I didn’t identify myself). Of course it wouldn’t.

However, I’m not 100% clearer. She did seem to indicate that it’s part of the rules, particularly in regard to JSA and now Universal Jobmatch, that handing over a CV is required – but also that permission is required to do so. I’m not entirely sure how that works, it all sounds terribly Orwellian: “you are free to give us your CV, but if you don’t then you’ve broken the rules”. Trying to clarify this leads them to a broader question of your efforts: “why would you not want to give us your CV?” She assured me that they wouldn’t do anything nefarious with it, but I’ve already been lied to.

The Universal Jobmatch aspect is the most troubling. No one seems to really understand how this works. She seemed to suggest that if I upload my CV to it and give permission for the JC to access it (so the adviser can see it when you sign) that it then becomes entirely public and that the Work Programme could then access it. I’m not entirely sure that’s correct; it was my understanding that ticking that box only gave the DWP access, perhaps that extends to their partners in the Work Programme. Even so the initial point seems clear – as clear as it can be from these people (so take that for what it’s worth) – even if you give them your CV they can’t do anything with it sans your permission. So why bother giving it to them? Oh but you sort of have to, er?

I guess in the end it won’t really make any difference. If they did spam my CV off to some employer, or worse one of these awful job/cv agencies (probably selling it to make a quick buck), then that information is out there and that cannot be undone. If you subsequently tried to lodge a complaint it will likely be overshadowed by the question of you refusing the job your details were given to. That is unacceptable, and is an odious way to treat people with mental health/behavioural issues in my opinion, but no doubt will lead to a sanction on the grounds of not taking up a valid work opportunity – no matter how nefarious the context. With the DWP you’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t. Though, thankfully, this situation remains hypothetical. Just another interesting titbit from the good Christian folk at Employment Plus.

New Regime

Every day it seems Wonderland gets a little more mad hatter. I’m not sure how we’re meant to keep up with this decline into madness and bitterness but I find myself increasingly outside of myself which, given I have to appeal to ATOS for help on Tuesday, may well be a good thing. But in terms of being a functioning human being: not so much. I guess I should take comfort that my situation isn’t as dire as poor LindaWooten who, despite the fact she lay dying in hospital (if that’s not going to appeal to prospective employers I don’t know what will), was still found fit for work.

But that’s exactly what they want isn’t it. I sometimes think decisions such as that are deliberate. If the government can ‘demonstrate’ (spelt: demonise) the sickest and most dire of cases are fit enough then what hope for the rest of us. Worse: the rest of us will increasingly be seen as malingerers. That’s the purpose of DWP videos such as those discussed here; a Hit Parade of disabled people spouting clichés to inspire us to stop feeling sorry for ourselves and find the work that’s just waiting to be found.

Never mind of course having to compete with people that don’t have a history of sickness/conditionality. Read: no chance.

And so it came to pass that the DWP saw fit to release their plans for dealing with those that fail the WorkProgramme. Note the language: it won’t be the providers that are at fault. They won’t have failed the claimants. The system won’t have let us down. No, whatever the circumstances or outcome, if you don’t find work by the time your sentence ends, YOU will be to blame.

So after you are discharged from the ideological gulag the free market sent you to, you will receive an ‘end of term’ report. Quite what this is meant to be I don’t know, but I’m willing to bet, like a Barnum Statement, it will be equivocal nudge unit inspired ‘not trying hard enough to meet his potential’ nonsense. This will give the targeted advisors you will now be subject to enough rope to hang you with. It is then possible these ‘specialist’ advisers at the Jobcentre will be able to call you in daily. Quite apart from how people are to afford daily travel (and more, such as childcare) costs is not explained, how does attending every day change anything? If it didn’t work under the Work Programme, how will it work at the Jobcentre? What do they have that the WP doesn’t and why bother with the WP in the first place then?

The government, under the auspice of Unemployment Minister, Mark Hoban (who recently pocketed 144 grand from the saleof his state funded second home, furnished again by us), continues to believe in the greatness of the WP. Consequently it cannot and seemingly will not countenance that they and it has failed. Instead we have failed it – if we’d only try harder, malingering less, and stop being lazy…

The statement uses adversarial language: it talks of ‘stepping up the pressure’ and refers to this next step as a ‘tough and uncompromising regime’ (as opposed to the WP of course). To the ruling elite the unemployed really are a more boisterous incarnation of the itinerant school truant. This is dangerously facile and utterly self defeating. Why are we not adopting a more compassionate approach? Why not actually support and help people? Why not find the means – you’ve wasted almost 10 billion on the Work Programme for what? – to address the issues that people have with proper professional assistance.

Instead I have to persuade ATOS and subsequently a DWP Decision Maker sitting behind the scene out of sight and deliberately incommunicado that, without ESA, the Work Programme cannot help me – as if it ever could. It can’t, and hasn’t so far, but at least I’m not currently being bullied by advisors so professional they ignore everything they have been told.

No, instead claimants are placed in a situation most jobcentres will find unsustainable and placed even closer to the precarious cliff edge of sanctions. They will be monitored (more) rigorously, no doubt through the wonky and insecure machinations of Universal Jobmatch. That site remains utterly hopeless and totally untrustworthy, but again its problems will be ignored and the claimant given the blame.

Within days of finishing the Work Programme people will be expected to be either in training (provided by whom? If the WP can’t manage it then how will this materialise?) or on Mandatory Work Activity. In other words, this is the Community Action Programme by another name. No doubt they’ve subtly changed things hoping to avoid the anti-workfare backlash. Good luck!

This period lasts for 6 months and carries with it a minimum sanction time of 4 weeks – though how people are meant to live without food for a month (during which they will still be expected to sign somehow) I do not know. But it is the attitude that is, yet again, all wrong. If they think this will lead to anything other than more confrontation anger and grief, they are wrong. Still, a hundred and forty four thousand quid buys a lot of things to take your mind off of the guilt.