Outsourcing

I’m sat in a little café in a part of this peninsula that I never often reach. I’ve just taken out £50 which I do not expect will last me the week. I’m thinking about where I have to go in an hour’s time. The café is a cute little place, an old home, with fairy lights and free wifi. The coffee is weak, but only £1.20. I’ve been here for the few hours it has been raining and I’m waiting to go along for a medical review. The government outsources the assessment not to the NHS, but to Atos Origin – some stab at a medical consultancy.

Its purpose is to assess if I am fit for work, what help I need to get into work, if there is anything they can do to get me to work, if they can trip me up and force me to work; there seems a pressing theme. Work.

Not that much of a surprise really. I’ve been out of work for the last four months. It is about time that I started thinking about just pressing on with things and ignoring my problem again. It’s a cycle after all, so let’s get riding. Problem is that at the moment it feels like I’m peddling up hill.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer, but there doesn’t seem to be a need for them. Perhaps I should just join the armed forces. I’ve always thought I might like to die for something slightly ridiculous. I once had a dream that I threw myself in front of a car to save a plastic bottle from being crushed. So getting shot at by people I’ve never met seems like the same flavor of stupidity. At least it removes the need to think for myself. If I’m lucky it will even remove the need to end my own life. I can outsource.

Blind

A few weeks ago our lone vending machine was fired.  

The managers told us that it was “uneconomical” to keep 

 it on and so, with the decision being fiscal, we recognized 

 that the decision was final. 

  

We mourned its absence but a week later a representative  

for The National Blind Children’s Society arrived and asked  

to be allowed to place a charity tray downstairs. It was placed 

 there the following Monday and was filled with packets of Nuts 

and Cheesy Bites and Rice Crackers and the like, and on the sides 

 of it, it read that it had an honesty box policy of £1 per packet. 

  

What we learned was that blind kids make great snack food. 

It’s now a recognized fact in my office. The ‘ChariSnack’ tray,  

as far as bins full of empty packets can testify, it is a roaring  

success. Why am I telling you this? I figure that you should  

have an example of why what they say is true, that when you  

lose something you’ll gain something else will fill the space.

View

I stand about a lot in work. When I do, I tend to gaze out of the windows at the people walking past. I like to make up lives for them, or picture going out with the girls, and being friends with the guys. Although I only see them for a few moments I’m almost sure of them being exactly as I imagine by the time they round the corner and disappear out of sight. It gives me a tiny sense of loss each time. And then another walks into view.

Rolex

A Chinese woman comes into our shop quite often. She’s all smiles and black shiny hair. She’s in her early twenties and regularly buys expensive jewellery. She’ll deliberate for quite a while and then haggle on the price. There is a bit of a language barrier, but we forgive her for the sake of her smile.
Today she brought her parents and bought 4 Rolex. All were 18ct yellow gold. She got 14% off.
I wonder if she will do this for the rest of her life. Wonder if she will ever tire of this life of excess, or decide to work for a living or something. Strangely I can see her working in a jewellery store.