The Book of Job (Chapter 3)

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I have to get a job. Partly because I could use the money, and partly because the jobcentre want to send me on another thirty-six week fake "training scheme".

That's "training" as in "be forced to sit in a room for seven hours a day with nothing to do until you throw yourself at any employment at all to avoid going mad".

Actually I did go mad on the last one - spent three months listed as mentally incapable as a result. After which they tried to make me restart the scheme. I moved to London instead, without telling them.

The thing is, when I'm abused for any length of time I either mentally collapse or become violent. I expect to become violent this time. Which is why I've been looking harder than usual for a job instead.

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There was a local school who "urgently need"-ed a teacher to start immediately. I telephoned and got an interview set up.

Two hours later I phoned to check they'd got my CV. And got told they didn't need any teachers, and any inferences I'd made from their "We need teachers urgently" advert were inexplicable and incorrect.

But if I could stick around for the next six months, they just might have something for me.

They can go screw themselves.

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Voluntary Service Overseas is an organisation which provides food, accommodation and a small allowance to volunteers with sought-after skills, in exchange for their working for a year or two in underdeveloped countries, in exchange for the chance to see the world cheaply and do some good.

I applied. They say I'm not good enough.

Three years experience teaching, thirty years experience with all manner of computer technology, a reasonable knowledge of science, a masters degree and more other qualifications than I can remember. But I haven't worked for a major charity before, so I'm "not qualified".

Okay I don't actually have three years continuous teaching experience, but you're not going to tell me your CV is scrupulously honest?

Okay. They can go screw themselves.

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I previously asked the Red Cross if they had a use for a teacher slash technician. The local branch told me they "already have a teacher" and their computers never need maintenance because they're magic.

Well, they can go screw themselves too. If I'd had a degree in management they'd have snapped me up - management is all they seem to do these days.

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The jobcentre called me in to do, I kid you not, a basic literacy and numeracy test.

Which I couldn't do because my brain decided to have an epileptic seizure at the time. The second in a month, which is highly unusual, and more than anything else just plain embarrassing.

They postponed the test for two days.

I came back two days later and did the test - which they couldn't record because their computers had crashed.

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So in another two weeks they want me back again to get signed up to the same scheme which gave me a small nervous breakdown.

Except for the small detail that I'm going self employed in two weeks, so very sadly have to decline to join their wonderful scheme. They know this, but the forms have to be filled out, just so they can be rendered obsolete the next day. Process is everything, achievement nothing, in bureaucracy.

What? Oh yes, I'm going to be a proper teacher, as opposed to the improper one I've been so far. I've got some students lined up, a rough contract for them to sign, and a small pile of brain-meltingly dull tax forms to fill out.

An old teacher recently told me the only way to work for a decent language school is to set one up. We'll soon see.

Oh, but I haven't decided on a name for my academy yet. What do you think? Any suggestions?

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