Wednesday, 14 March 2012

Give Me A Job Mr Cameron

An open letter to the Prime Minister.

Dear Mr Cameron,

You do not know me, and why should you, since we move in completely different social circles. 

I am a 27 year old women looking for a job.  I have good GCSEs and ALevels, and have been working since I was 19.  For the past year I have been searching for jobs, attending interviews, and have been turned down by all employers except one, Argos.  At first I was pleased, thinking that I would be working at least 20 hours a week in no time, being promised that the hours would be available.  That was September. 

It is now March, and except for December, I have been kept at my starting contracted hours.  3 a week, at just over £6 an hour.  A quarter of my income goes on trainfare to get to where I work.  I asked my manager a while ago what the chance of working 20 hours a week would be.  He laughed at me Mr Cameron, laughed, and said that I have to prove my reliability before he would consider giving me more hours.

This is not a unique situation in my store.  Only the managers, team leaders, and other essential staff are full time or close.  Most of my fellow colleagues are in the same situation.

A few weeks ago I received some news about a possible vacancy at an after school club.  I have worked with children before, and so I made contact with the club, leaving a message that included my number and email address.  After a number of days I contacted the club again, and was told that my information had been passed to the manager.  A week on, and I had not been contacted, so I contacted the club again, and got the manager's email address.  Three emails and a large number of days later, I received an email saying that the position had been filled, but to go ahead and fill out an application form, as the present employee was on probation.

Mr Cameron, I ask you, how are we to find adequate work in this day and age?  You say to us that it is time to get back to work, but where are the jobs?

I have an idea.  This idea is to put on my most professional looking outfit, use half my income to buy a train ticket, and travel to London to park myself as close to Downing Street as I can get.  There I will stay, and everytime you pass by, I will attempt to hand you my CV, in the vain hope that there is a position I can apply for.  And if I succeed, then I shall be there every day to tell you just what the fuck is wrong with England today, since you do not seem to notice.  After all, the London riots failed to catch your attention.  Perhaps something a little closer to home is called for.

Yours sincerely
Leonie Frendo