C: So How's Your Jobsearch Going&;#063;

I woke up feeling very vacant in my head and tired; lieing there
listening to my alarm going off at the other end of the room. I kept
trieing unsuccessfully, to muster up the willpower to switch it off.
Ben was lieing by my legs, his head resting on my foot. I could hear
the dustbin men doing their rounds outside, and suddenly it dawned on
me, that I hadn't put my rubbish out. So being gentle with Ben, not
wanting to disturb him; I got out of bed and switched off the alarm.
Then quickly put on some clothes and in a disorientated fashion;
managed somehow to get my rubbish out just as the binman was turning
round the corner.

I made myself a coffee after and sat down, and just couldn't muster
together the will to do any computer work today. I saw the time and
realised that today was my signing on day and I had to get to the
jobcentre in roughly an hour. I hate signing on, I always feel guilty;
it's cause I've been doing absolutely nothing to look for work
lately.

I looked across at Ben, who was gazing up at me from his basket with
tired eyes. He's getting old now, he's almost 13. He looks good for his
age though, and most people don't believe me when I tell them how old
he is; but I know he's getting old. The fur under his chin is going
white, his mane too; and his legs shake a little sometimes, they're not
as strong as they used to be. He seems to get tired a lot quicker
nowadays, and sleeps a lot. These are things I've noticed lately, and I
know our time together might be getting short. I've had him for a while
now. I love him to bits. It's a face I see every day, a face I trust,
and he comes with me just about everywhere I go - my constant
companion. I know oneday he's gonna leave me though, and I wish I
wouldn't think about that.

Why do I have to be so maudlin?

***

I felt a slight panic attack on the bus today, it was jam packed full
of people, and I felt claustraphobic. I don't like being in large
crowds of people, it unsettles me. I carried on reading "The Box Of
Delights" by John Masefield, and it helped to take my mind off
it.

When I got off the bus, I kept wanting to go up to people in the street
and say: "The Wolves are Running." I do that sometimes with books, I
start fantasizing that I'am a character in the story. That some of the
people I see in life, people that I meet - are part of the book that
I'am reading.

I couldn't find any jobs in the jobcentre, they were all dull; and not
only that, I worked out, that with my housing benefit, and council tax
benefit and my giro, if I got a job I would end up no better off than I
am now, so I thought what's the point? I never stick out these jobs
anyway: I'am always walking out, getting sacked or being made
redundant. If you get sacked or walk out of a job: then you get your
benefits stopped for a period of time, and it just ends up with me sat
on a street corner busking to try and pay the bills. So I haven't got
much enthusiasm for finding work at the moment. To tell the truth it
scares me. Most jobs I've worked, have been dull soul destroying ones,
and I've never really got on with the other people. They always seem to
gossip about each other, and it does my head in. I hate that, so I
always keep out of the conversations and keep myself to myself; people
think I'am wierd for being like this, and then I get depressed and
dread going in each morning. Eventually spiralling and losing the job.
I just can't go back to that.

My interviewer in the jobcentre was very pretty. And I felt my cheeks
blush when she spoke to me. I hate it when that happens, I couldn't
help it though, she was a fox man.

"There are to be a few changes." She said. "From now on you will be
required to sign on at 1:40 pm. You mustn't be late, or it could effect
your benefits."

"Ok," I said, as she handed me the piece of paper with this information
written on it; thinking to myself as she did: God she's beautiful. I
almost felt in that beauty was great power; power to dominate my 27
year old bachelor mind. It scared me a bit, how much power her beauty
had over me.

Then she asked me the question I had been expecting, but always dread
every time I go to sign on:

"So how's your job search going?"

"Well," I replied. "It's not going very well, because I'am still here."
I said this tongue-in-cheek; luckily she laughed and found it funny -
to my relief. I then signed my name on another bit of paper she handed
me, and dated it.

"So what exactly have you been doing to look for work?" She asked in a
more serious manner this time.

Oh help.. I was silent for a moment, trieing to think of a suitable
answer. "I'am thinking of trieng the agencies." I said
unenthusiastically, I just couldn't seem to get my voice to show much
enthusiasm.

"Have you registered with any of them yet?"

"No not yet, I've not been too keen on the idea of agency work to be
honest; but I will register with a few this week." I said with fake
gusto.

She typed something into the computer, clicked her mouse, then smiling
said,"Ok, that'll be all. Remember to come in on time on your next
signing day."

"Will do." I said, breathing a sigh of silent relief in my mind; then
left the jobcentre as fast as I could. I hate going to the jobcentre.
Ah well till the next time. I don't know how much longer I can keep
this Barry White up; before they start getting heavy, and putting more
pressure on me to get a job.

I felt a little depressed as I walked through the towncentre. I wish I
could get a job writing, that would be ace. I half thought about
walking into the offices of the local paper and asking them if they had
any jobs going. Then bottled out at the door, feeling a bit silly;
realising I haven't got very many qualifications, a degree, experience
or anything like that: so they'd probably not be interested. I reckon I
would be a good reporter though, but I don't know how to prove that to
anyone, without some kind of paper or certificate.

I went to the second hand bookshop, but couldn't see any books that
took my fancy. Besides I had very little money, and realised I needed
to be sensible with it. I kept wanting to say to people in there: "The
Wolves are Running." I couldn't get that phrase out of my head. I'am a
bit strange I guess. No doubt if I had said that - people would have
thought me very odd.

I am dreading the thought of working in some dull low-waged job again.
I will try my hardest to put that outcome off for as long as I can. I
even thought to myself today, if it get's to that stage; then maybe
I'll pack my rucksack with a few things and just do one. Just travel,
busk to make money, and sleep rough. At least I'll be free, I won't
have to worry about bills anymore; and I'll be able to read and write
as often as I like. I could go to the libraries and internet cafes' and
post my stories and poems onto abctales from there, so that wouldn't be
a problem. It could happen, I don't know yet. I do like the thought of
being like that: sleeping under the stars, writing poetry and stories
by the light of a campfire.

My Nan's a freelance writer, she writes short stories and articles for
magazines. So perhaps she can give me some help and advice about it.
She also makes crossword puzzles for newspapers, and earns money from
it. I remember helping her to build a crossword puzzle once when I was
a kid. I haven't spoke to my Nan in ages. She lives near Manchester; so
I don't get to see her much nowadays. I might send her an e-mail
tomorrow.