The Centrelink fear spiral..

I wake to an automated text message from Max Employment saying that I have an appointment at 10am tomorrow. This is the first I have heard of this! Immediately I am anxious. I haven’t had to deal with either Max Employment or Centrelink for over two months and it’s been a luxurious and anxiety free time.

The government (thanks Abbot, you bastard!) has implemented a new system whereby they pretend to help you out by forcing you to do volunteer work. It’s just another reminder that my life isn’t under my control, that I’m being given ‘hand outs’ and I’m obliged to work for free for Christians and not for profit companies that need some indentured labour. Not only am I not being given enough to live on or pay my cars registration, I am obliged to volunteer my time wherever Max Employment want to place me in exchange for this slap-in-the-face service that is called government “support.”

Max Employment has’t been able to handle the new influx of work and bullshit they have to deal with so I haven’t been placed anywhere yet. I knew they would call one day though, so I have been relishing this reprieve. The time of bliss has come to an end, but I have not been idle. As you know I am volunteering 7 hours a week with the M16 Art Space, with the Belconnen Arts Centre and soon with the ANU Press for 4-7 hours a week. On top of that I write for Verity La and edit for Grapple Publishing. And honestly I am not always on top of all that I have signed up for, let alone my own projects. I am desperate for Max Employment to recognise the volunteering I do and either exempt me from their punishment or make me do less of whatever they have designed. I need time to look for jobs, write and honor my other commitments. If Max Employment had even a snifter of actual ability to help people into jobs and understanding about the life of artists, they would see that I’m already doing valid volunteering and they don’t need to force me into more. Besides I have registered myself with a real recruitment agency, I don’t need their “help.”

So my Sunday which I planned to be languid and mostly involve editing and reading the Shadow Over Innsmouth has turned into an anxious hell of jittery job searching and trying to fight off images of being forced to volunteer at the Tuggeranong vinnes. Oh it’s a fine life, the artists life…

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