13 June 2006

Dear friend,
Thank you for your kind words.
I have today reached the end of my tether. I received a letter from the Job Centre and it didn’t contain a giro for cash dated from 5th April as I was expecting but instead it was a letter from the Nottingham Branch requesting confirmation from the University that I am not a student any more and details of mine and the brunettes student loans accounts and they want this information before tomorrow otherwise my “claim will be affected”. I called Nottingham to ask why they needed this as I’d already handed that information to my local branch some weeks ago and could I have more time to locate the original documentation. Nottingham were puzzled and said the letter hadn’t come from them even though it had their letter head and telephone number at the top and that Canterbury sometimes do this to adjust their call figures … (I swallowed hard) they couldn’t help me and instead suggested I ring my local branch. I rang as suggested but they said they couldn’t help with a Nottingham query and suggested I ring the mystical ‘Canterbury’. I rang Canterbury and after about the 60th time of dialling (literally) and getting their recorded message, I spoke to a person. The person told me she couldn’t help. I asked to be put through to someone who could help – “sorry I can’t do that”. “Well could I speak to your supervisor?” “I’m sorry I can’t do that, I suggest you ring [your local branch]” Well could I have an extension on the time needed to gather the information you ask for in the letter from Nottingham?” “If you don’t give us the information we ask for then your claim will be affected and may be delayed“. I asked the significance of the brunettes student loan details – “it is an income” “No it’s not” I said “it has to be repaid so it can’t be classed as an income” “we class it as an income” was the curt response. I rang my local branch. I spoke to Ms P (a Welsh speaker I think) but she couldn’t access my information as my details are “with Canterbury”. I asked to speak to her supervisor “certainly sir” … click … brrrr. I rang again “I think I was cut off, could you put me through to your supervisor please?” “Certainly sir”. Click, brrrr. I got the message and rang their switchboard “Hi, could I make an appointment to speak to someone about my claim?” “Yes, just a moment” … click, brrrr. I rang back “Hi, I think you cut me off, could I make an appointment to speak to someone about my claim?” “Yes, just a moment” … click, brrrr. I rang back “Hi, I think you’ve got a problem with your phones, I was cut off again” “How can I help sir?” (It was the same girl I spoke to seconds ago for the other two calls.) “Could I make an appointment to speak to someone about my claim please?” “Have you already made a claim?” “yes” “when did you make the claim?” “5th April” “Have you spoken to Canterbury?” “Yes” “OK I’ll just put you through to someone” click … brrrr.

I thought carefully about phoning the local paper to say there was a bomb at the Unemployment office but I thought of the crying mothers trying to get crisis loans to tide them over until their claims are sorted and the poor guys who dash in from the vans with paint all over their clothes to pick up their giros, the spitting teenagers with bull mastiffs and bettattood girlfriends tied to the bike rails outside and the wide eyed middle aged blokes with neatly bound folders clutched tightly to their chests sitting on the chairs in the corner not knowing quite what to do and trying really hard to avoid looking at anyone. I settled on a cup of tea instead and fought off a sob. My friend, I am suffering for my art but I don’t know what my art is any more. I tried cutting a noggin off a piece of 4x2 yesterday and couldn’t even get enthused about that. And it ended up all crooked. I couldn’t even make an appointment to see the doctor today. I rang the surgery but the receptionist started to ask awkward questions like “is it urgent” (how do I know until I’ve seen the doctor about it?) and “what do you want to see the doctor for” I didn’t like to say and she talked me out of it. I’ll try again another time. I made a nice box for the cat to sit in and have her kittens though, it is wooden with a bit at the front to stop the kittens falling out and it is lined with news paper. She of course refuses to go anywhere near it and the brunette just laughed. I don’t think I could fix a computer any more even if I was paid to do it.

Ah well, I’ve just got to find something I’m good at
D