This reply came not from the Chief Executive, to whom I sent my letter, but from the District Case Manager of my local branch. For ease, we'll call the District Case Manager from my local branch 'Ronald'.
It seems I'd gone over Ronald's head with my complaint - I'd asked the Jobcentre receptionist exactly how to complain, and she told me of a leaflet, on which I got my grubby mitts, that described the complaint process in very plain English (basically written as if an 'editorial' from the Sun newspaper).
That process is:
Stage 1. Tell the Jobcentre your complaint.
Check.
Stage 2. Get in touch with the District Manager.
Now, I'd already vented my spleen and other internal organs to two Jobcentre staff, neither of whom had offered to put me in touch with Ronald, nor told me to write to him.
Given this, I skipped straight to:
Stage 3. Writing to the Chief Exec.
Anyway, I received a reply from Ronald. He did apologise, but in the kind of forced way kids do when they've been caught monkeying around putting chewing gum in each other's hair.
Ronald's reply spends far too much time apologising for rescheduling a meeting without informing me (leaving me on the Jobcentre's doorstep, something I'm very much over), and not enough time apologising for one of his member of staff's unprofessional and juvenile comments.
(I love calling someone who works at the Jobcentre "unprofessional", when I'm unemployed, it just feels right.)
Ronald agreed that these comments "could have been phrased more appropriately" and he apologised "that they were not".
I've been down the Jobcentre today, for an interview with my 'Personal Adviser', Caroline, who is lucky enough to have been already mentioned on this blog.
Caroline is tasked with helping me get back into work. This is the first meeting I've had of this kind, over a month since first signing on, and in fact, I haven't received any monies yet.
She told me that actually there is very little she can advise me on with regards to finding a job - I guess because I'm so very good at looking for work, despite not actually bloody finding any.
Maybe I am good at jobseeking - I did do some research this morning into finding the perfect font for my CV. I've stuck with Times New Roman - not because I'm a boring everyman, but because I came to the conclusion that I couldn't give a fuck what font my CV's in.
At the Jobcentre we scrolled through a list of jobs and stopped at one which I thought sounded fun: News Editor for the Halal Food Foundation - which I now need to contact, because I showed an interest in the job. Somehow I don't think it's for me, though; they're probably looking for someone who at least eats halal food, not someone who simply realises that halal food exists.
Caroline has also organised for me to attend a 'career management workshop' next week, where I'll learn how to get the right hair, when to smile and make eye contact, and how to project my voice. I'll also get to network - with other unemployed people. Hurrah!
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