Thursday, September 09, 2004

The Most Unhelpful Man in the World

The money problems evaporated for the time being, as is customary. I would more than settle for some basic allowance from the state, in return for tighter parameters on ethical living etc, than this flip-flopping between have-not and have-a-little. I mention the state early on, because i had to go to the Welfare Office today and confront my demons. Fortunately, these demons are not personal, they are shared with every other poor soul who is unlucky enough to wash up in Bishop Square and need ANY kind of assistance.

With reference to the title of this post, The Most Unhelpful Man in the World sits behind a sheet of industrially toughened glass, as well he might, inside the Welfare Office. His face emits a pained boredom with all things, particularly anything that might draw breath and not have a J-O-B... He accepts your documentation as if he is being slid a piece of fresh roadkill, and flips through it with all the enthusiasm of a zombie on prescription downers. After a silence intended to bring down the spirit, freeze-dry your passions, incinerate your self-esteem, and obliterate your bloodline, he begins to speak of things...

... Things at once so obvious to him, the All-Seeing-Clerk, and at once so complex to you, the Non-Seeing-Feckless-Reveller, intent on eating free bread, drinking free milk, and lying in bed till gone noon-time... so it goes on... I was forced to call up the fact that i cannot fill out forms as reason enough not to return me to the very beginning of this terrible process. The response was a grim silent anger, as he weighed the merits of two equally displeasing paths, firstly, helping someone back through the Labryinth of Paperwork who had made it quite clear they would Waste Many Hours, or, ugh, cough, ugh, Helping Someone (at the same time as helping himself) and Disrupting the Impartial Nature of the Great System.

Ladies and gentlemen, he came through, although he qualified his assistance with all manner of threats.

"You have to convince ME that YOU are looking for WORK..."

Could i ever convince him? I could physically carry people who have interviewed me into the offices, and he would feign uninterest, fanning himself with a claim form... "YOU could have found THEM anywhere..."

Whatever the slim chance of success, I have 7 days to complete this mission.

Of course, the easiest thing is to simply get a job, or a jorrr-b as they are called over here, and start work, or as it's known over here, wuk - and yes, this is my ultimate Aim, my one true Mission, to hitch myself to the great wheel of the Irish economy and grind out a few more euros of profit for a giant laughing fat man sat on a featherbed stuffed with a Million Euros. The process of applying and attending interviews however was being cruelly undermined by the fact i had No Money for the Washing of Socks and Pants and Trousers thereof, and equally, the Holy Grail of a nice shirt and some I can do your bidding sensible slacks was proving hopelessly elusive without 1) shoplifting 2) mugging someone of a similar build

These problems are now ready to be overcome. Like a good little zombie i will travel into town tomorrow and deck myself out in the finest threads. i may even buy a digital camera and make a pictorial record of this historic event.

1 Comments:

Blogger focustest said...

managed the set up.

12:14 AM  

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