Arg, the endless thirty
second loop of shrill classical blaring out from my phone, the
repeated robot statements from the School of Let's State the Bleeding
Obvious.
'All our operators are
currently busy' (obvious).
'Please continue to hold,
and an operator will answer you' (yes, I would assume so. Seems
logical really).
'You may wish to call back
later' (er, yes, I may. That's my decision really isn't it).
Baaah! I'm not calling for
the joy of it or to kill time. I have a dozen more fun, interesting
or pressing things to do, frankly. I'm calling because I have a
genuinely important query about why I've not received my money, or
because I'm trying to decypher another bullsh*t letter, or better
still, three letters (all received on the same day, naturally – do
they own shares in tree destruction or something) which make even
less sense when they all contradict each other.
'Our opening times are...'
Yes, thank you for informing me yet again! I have no short-term
memory and have forgotten since the last announcement thirty seconds
ago. Even with 'chemo brain' those opening times are indelibly burned
into my memory.
As you may have guessed, I
am writing this in real time whilst on hold, slowing losing my
sanity. I thought it would be interesting and productive to plough my
real time frustration into a blog and see how it pans out! See if it
makes the call go faster. See if it helps me stay sane! See if it
makes one person laugh or nod with recognition.
Funny, I get the feeling
that whether I call up first thing in the morning or last thing
during the day, the recorded message would be identical and there
would still be 'nobody available to take my call.' EVER.
I don't mean to sound
ungrateful. I never for one second imagined when I had my daughter
eight years ago that I'd become a lone parent, nor did I imagine I'd
have to stop my self employed work due to chronic illness and
disease. The benefits system is there to help people who need help.
Don't get me started on the underclass of people who have no
intention of ever working for their money, or indeed teaching their
children any kind of work ethic. They choose the benefits system as some kind of career choice. They're like an alien race to me.
My point is that the
benefits system seems to be massively flawed, and getting worse. It
appears to be in crisis. Whether it's because more people are
claiming – who knows. I suspect red tape and nonsensical systems
are the main obstacle to people getting what they're entitled to. I'm
an intelligent person, but I cannot make head nor tail of a benefits
letter. It's as if it's written in a deliberately obtuse way in order
to confuse, baffle, and hence stop questions. I tend to scan over
them, say 'Huh?' or even 'What the f***' before shoving it
in a drawer with all the other thousands of trees' worth of letters.
Still waiting on hold,
wanting to scream or at least hit my head rhythmically against
something hard. Thirty one minutes of those crazy messages. Can't
they vary them, vary the music, or at least space them further apart?
I have a theory: they make the wait to speak to a human being so
impossible, that 70% of possible claimants give up and either end up
in the loony-bin, on drugs, or maybe resort to crime to make ends
meet, as a more attractive option than waiting endlessly on hold for
the rest of their lives, ending up as a dusty skeleton still
clutching the phone in a bony hand.
What's worse is that whilst
you're waiting for someone to answer, even if you're doing something else productive like writing a
blog, you experience doubt and guilt as those minutes tick by. Well, I do anyway. I was always
instilled with a work ethic. I was never a workaholic; but if I
enjoyed a job I gave it my all and stuck with it. I gave good
customer service and went above and beyond to help people. I feel
guilt at my cancer, annoyance and frustration at my chronic fatigue
and chemo side effects. This annoys me as I made a decision after my
diagnosis and breakdown not to feel guilt any more; to realise I
deserve a happy, stress-free life, and the money I'm rightfully
entitled to to provide security for me and my family.
The phone lines close in
twenty minutes. There must be a better way! This phone line has made
me hate Vivaldi with a vengeance. This beautiful, vibrant piece of
music is now such a trigger, that when my partner played it to me on
his phone just now, I started spontaneously dribbling and had to resist the urge to smash my head against my laptop. I've become one of
Pavlov's dogs. I'd rather have Pavlova clogs. I am actually losing the plot now.
Total hold time before the
call was answered: sixty one minutes (a new record; wonder if I can
get in the Guinness Book of Records for that). Time taken to actually
sort the query, which wasn't even my fault; it was their mistake:
around five minutes.
Here are my tips for dealing
with benefit claims whilst keeping your sanity intact:
Don't. If you can help
it.
Develop a really good
sense of humour, or steal one from someone else.
Be productive whilst on
hold. Fuel your frustrations into creative pursuits such as writing,
knitting or painting. Or hitting your head against hard objects.
Do lots of deep
breathing to stay calm and not get psychotic.
Play dumb on the phone.
There's no point getting too frustrated or having long-winded
debates, as this only stretches the whole painful process out longer
and increases your stress. End the call as soon as you can, keep a
log of names you've spoken to, then go do something FUN!
Ironically, this
crazy-making system is creating more crackpots. If you're not insane
by the time you need to claim benefits, you sure as hell will be by
the end!
Love always (keep calm and beat the system)
Karen xxx
