BEYOND THE IMPLODE 3 - BRITISH AIRWAYS 0

When I was 13, I decided to reject the Tricolour and the Union Flag and embrace the black banner of ANARCHY. I'd meticulously studied anarchist theory ((the Class War 'Rock Against The Rich' issue, with the Joe Strummer interview)) and was carefully immersing myself in the dialectics of the movement ((Crass, Conflict, The Epileptics, Rubella Ballet, etc)). But, in retrospect, I was a rubbish anarcho-punk. I never got into 'permaculture', which I used to think was a fanzine for hairdressers, and I've never been able to say no to a bacon roll. Oh, and I've always hated being on the dole. Still, Fortuna knows no master, so the question remains...which was better - signing on in 1997 or in 2010?

GETTING ON THE LIST

1997 - If you resided in the Burnt Oak area, your local SS office was Lyndhurst House - named after a shamanistic performance artist who used to go into trance and 'become' 'Rodney Trotter'. You basically brought along your passport and NI number, sat around for half an hour and then filled in a load of forms, while an interchangeable, unisex chorus echoed, Fuck's sake, been here half an hour! from the wings. Job done.

2010 - You go down to Jobcentre Plus, greet a Group 4 guard ((ie-the private security firm who let young offenders hang themselves in their cells)), get given a Freephone number and are told to go back home and ring it. You then have a half-hour chat with a dole claim processor. You then get told to bring your paperwork back to Jobcentre Plus, for a 'formal' induction - can you get there in half an hour? You then spend half an hour in Jobcentre Plus, signing your 'contract' and declaring your specialised areas for job-hunting ((you have to provide three completely unrelated areas. Sucks if you've always been a commis chef or a Java script programmer - did those roles involve any security work, perhaps?))

Y'know, during this process, I couldn't help but flash back to the time the alcoholic careers advisor came round to our school, and my mate Steve was thrown out of the room for saying he wanted to be a porn star. That always baffled me. For Satan's sake, the boy was willing to work - what more did they want? Oh, of course - to put us all on unpaid summer holiday 'placements'. For some folks, fucking like a donkey's the only skill they've got - why the hell shouldn't they be allowed to make money out of it?

LOOKING FOR WORK

1997 - Fill in your bloody 'WHAT I DID TO GET A JOB' booklets. Write whatever, but write something - or are you into being grilled every time you sign on? I'd show off all the jobs I'd applied for, real and fictitious, and then have a brief chat with this Hindu woman. The conversation went something like this, every time:

HER: We have a position...office and warehouse cleaning...£4.50 an hour, 8am-5pm, overtime available...

ME: Cool, I'll take it.

HER: ...applicant must have experience of using industrial vacuum cleaners. Have you?

ME: No, but it can't be that difficult, I'll probably pick it up in 5 minutes. I'm a fast learner. I'd like to go for it.

HER: I'm sorry, it says here that experience is essential. OK...there's a job in Colindale, nights, security. £3.60 an hour, applicant must be willing to work flexible hours.

ME: I can't do security. I used to work in an off license in Camberwell and it got held up one night. I'm terrified of guns.

HER: That's awful! Were you hurt?

ME: Nah, I wasn't working the night it happened...but I couldn't go back there after that, I was too scared. The gang might have come back.

HER: What sort of job are you looking for then?

ME: I'd like to write for magazines. I'd also like to write a book about the Irish in London.


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HER: OK...come back in two weeks.

2010: The Jobcentre Plus ((now with *new improved* bullshit!)) has a bank of computers nailed into the floor, where you can search for jobs. I entered 'GREATER LONDON AREA', what kind of work I was after, and waited for the 'search-a-tron' ((just made that bit up)) to pluck me a new career path. It referred me to a job in St Albans. I'm sorry - I know that Luton loves to see itself as part of London, to the point it even tagged the capital's name onto its airport ((cue confused Gallows fans from Spain, stumbling outside Arrivals and asking Muslim taxi drivers, "Are we near Camden?")), and that St Albans probably considers itself a 'borough' these days. But 'North London' terminates at Edgware and High Barnet. Beyond that is NOT 'Greater London'. It's 'The North'

"TRAINING"

1997 - Back then, we used to have JOB CLUB. Now, technically, you weren't allowed to join Job Club unless you'd been unemployed for six months. BUT, if you read the membership small print, you COULD sign up, as long as you'd suffered an injury that prevented you from doing security work - and you DIDN'T need a note from the quack to verify it. Great, I was in.

Basically, Job Club allowed you to use word processors and gave you unlimited access to paper, envelopes and stamps. We were treated a bit better than yer non-member claimants - we got a cup of tea, sometimes. And...that was about it, really. Apart from the occasional group seminar, when some bearded guy would come in with a Nobo board and a marker pen, and tell us, "Normally, we don't like it when people put on airs! But it's a different story altogether when you decide to put on..AIRS! Application, Interview, Resume'...Success!!"

2010 - We had a half-hour compulsory training session on how to get a job, delivered by a woman who must have been in her late 30s. We were told that, to stand out from other applicants, we have to make sure our CVs are 'pukka'. But we shouldn't get too down about our predicaments, because "the economy's getting its foot out of the bed". I also discovered the impressive fact that, when going for an interview, you shouldn't swear. The worst part was when the woman said, "Oh, can you guys turn off your mobiles - cos, if I hear your ringtones, I'll just be like-!" and then she did this really bad attempt at bogling.

Everybody fake laughed. And I heard Charles Manson in my ear, gurgling: Man, how did I end up in here?

COLOUR SCHEMES

1997 - Actually, here's one for you. You remember how the old Jobcentres used to be orange? Well, EasyJet's orange too, and so was Happy Shopper. Is there some kind of ritualistic colour coding going on? Has orange got some magickal connotation with 'skint'?

2010 - Jobcentre Plus is a sickly shade of green, that brings to mind institutions and sick wards where you only ever come out in a box, round the back. From warm oranges to cold, aquatic snot-greens.

Anyway, conclusion: signing on in 1997 and signing on in 2010 are equally bollocks.