Ann-Marie and the problem of synchronicity.

I am beginning to seriously lose all confidence in the employees of the Newcastle West Jobcentre. First we had Wendy and her considerable ineptitude in the face of one simple dental refund form and now, please welcome to the centre of the stage, Ann-Marie and her colossal inability to comprehend the basics of customer service. Now then... I arrived at the building at approximately 9.50 which, it should be noted, is two whole minutes before my allotted appointment time. Lord only knows why they schedule us all with such ridiculous slots as 9.52 and 13.27 but, hell, if they're gonna be pedantic, I'm certainly not gonna swim against the tide. According to their system, I was two whole minutes early. In fact, by the time I sat down, while my watch read 9.52, the clock on the Jobcentre wall read 'ten to ten' so in their (potentially) incorrect time zone, I was even earlier than I thought. All was well. However, when I proceeded to situate myself next to 'Box E' (curiously positioned furthest to the back of the building, after boxes G and I; let's just ignore the fact that Box F is on the other side of the room altogether), I found that the station was unmanned. No one was there to take my 'JSA card'. There was no real cause for concern at this point; I was early, after all. So I waited. And waited. About five minutes after my scheduled appointment time, I started to have a look around for the mysteriously AWOL Box E warden. Unfortunately, they rotate positions every other day or some such ridiculousness so I had no clue which of the many meandering bodies was supposed to see me. However, I did notice a rather curious event occurring at the next box along: the Customer Service Interview stall. Two rather puzzled Jobcentre employees were wrestling with the intricacies of a form submitted to them by a clearly irritated 'customer'. They bantered back and forth between each other, making remarks such as "well, this is ridiculous" and "we haven't been trained on this, how do they expect us to do anything?", apparently oblivious to the fact that there was a somewhat frustrated individual sitting opposite them, clearly desperate to have his benefit entitlement sorted. Still, they grappled with the form for another five minutes or so, before finally telling the poor gentleman that he needed to return on Monday when someone 'better trained' could sort him out. Well, if that isn't the sign of a well oiled organisation, I really don't know what is.

Anyway, this was it, I thought. Clearly, Box E's current inhabitant had been held up with this unfortunate problem and I was about to be seen to. 10.02am, not too bad I suppose; especially if the distraction couldn't be helped. Oh, youthful naivety. Ann-Marie, one of the two women, walked over to the box, looked me directly in the eye, proceeded to send my heart racing with excitement, pressed a few buttons on her computer and then returned to the Customer Service Interview station before I could corner her for that little thing called my appointment, and began a further fifteen minute conversation with her colleague about the intricacies of the aforementioned gentleman's problem. I was within earshot of every word said and rather than, say, a productive and necessary discussion about what to do next, the chat consisted of useless remarks about their apparent lack of training, a selection of jokes and a few anecdotes about other customers. The phrase "well it's just training, you don't pay it much mind" actually came out of her mouth, which, interestingly, is not too dissimilar to my favourite remark of Wendy's about not paying that much attention to her e-mails because "you don't think you'll need them." Telling, really.

So anyway, at 10.18am precisely, almost half an hour after my scheduled appointment time, Ann-Marie graced Box E with her presence once again. This was it, I thought. Finally, my chance to get out of this palace of ineptitude. She pressed a few more buttons on her keyboard and... called for a different individual! No one responded. She looked me in the eye, asked which box I was waiting for (despite it being patently obvious from the fact that every other bloody customer service advisor in the place was at their station, actually doing the job they're supposed to) and then my name. Obviously, I responded in kind. She gave me a rather curious expression, muttered "oh right" and, as I walked to the 'box' and sat opposite her, said, "I called for you earlier." Well, I couldn't let that one slide. When I arrived at her precious little booth, there wasn't a whiff of Ann-Marie anywhere in the general vicinity. So I told her that there was no one present when I arrived. Her response? "Well, your appointment was at 9.50, and I called for you then." Strike two. Clearly, Ann-Marie operates in yet another time zone, different to both mine and that of her place of employment. I informed her that I sat down opposite box E when the big hand on the clock above her struck ten to ten and she was nowhere to be found. I also felt it prudent to add, in the circumstances, that the time slot on my JSA card actually reads 9.52 and not 9.50 and that, therefore, I was within time. I mean, after all, if they're going to be that specific with my appointment time, why should it be expected that I'm not? (I didn't add this part, although I was certainly thinking it). She gave me a rather sarcastic expression and said, "Perhaps you just didn't hear me call for you." No, you ludicrously inept blunderbuss, you weren't at your station when your precious Jobcentre clocks indicated that you should have been. If you're going to participate in a system that requires the use of time, synchronise every instrument that you use to read it. And furthermore, don't just completely give up on someone if they don't arrive at precisely the time they've been allotted. I wasn't late, but even if I had been, was that any justification for completely ignorning me for twenty eight minutes to have little more than a chummy little soiree with your colleagues? I don't bloody well think so. She saw me and it was glaringly obvious that I was waiting for her... and she chose to ignore the rudimentary basics of customer service and serve her own interests instead. Lovely woman.

Ann-Marie dealt with me fairly quickly after this delightful exchange and proceeded to caution me against the fact that I didn't apply for the job that I'd looked at last time, despite the fact that I had made no commitment whatsoever to do so and that it was outside of '1 hour travel time' limit. And then she found some undesirable admin jobs that I am now required to send CVs to. I didn't have the guts to stand up to her and tell her that I didn't like the look of them. She'd beaten me down with her assurances of tardiness and aural failure. Still, it's not like I have to take them.

So yes, another delightful experience at the Newcastle West Jobcentre, where they don't know what to do with your refund forms and punish you for not adhering to their mysterious time-keeping. When I left, and got on the no. 39 bus home, the driver proceeded to shut the doors on me as I boarded too. Oh and the wind has completely ruined my hair. All reasons to curse the world, you might think, but alas, no, for I am feeling rather excellent today and it'll take a lot more than some ultimately pretty humorous upsets to ruin that. Last night was really rather lovely.

True love at last.

In my rarely checked Thingbox inbox this morning:

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Oh what a real shame, you had me right up until 'girl'... Good to know that these idiots vigorously research their targets. You're spamming a GAY SOCIAL NETWORKING SITE, for crying out loud. Honestly.

Ben loves Jerry

Lo, this be the 100th post on this 'ere blog and so I felt it only appropriate that we spent a bit of time thinking about some gay ducks.

Evolution fail? I think not. There's plenty in New Zealand, for crying out loud. Last time I checked, animals (unlike humans) didn't give a toss about 'national identity' and were quite happy to go wherever the climate favoured them.

Credit crunch forces Ash to take drastic action.

This monstrosity has to be seen to be believed. Tim, are you really that skint?