Certificate

If the British benefits system is broken, then my local Jobcentre is surely the San Andreas Fault. If you are unlucky enough to be within its catchment area, anything that can go wrong with your benefits claim most certainly will. Its staff seem to straddle the fence between having their hands tied by red tape and simply not caring anymore; several advisors there are quite openly hostile to their customers. So when my doctor first told me that I would need to be signed off, naturally I was quite concerned. Making the change from a Jobseekers' Allowance claim to an Employment and Support Allowance claim didn't sound remotely simple. I had heard horror stories about Work Capability Assessments and how stringent the system had become in order to kick spongers back into work.

Imagine my surprise, then, when my opening gambit was immediately accepted. I handed my doctor's medical certificate to the advisor I was due to sign on with that day, and he closed down my JSA claim there and then. I spent a merry 45 minutes on the phone opening an ESA claim, and the follow-up paperwork came through my letterbox the very next day. This unexpected efficiency is the exception that proves the rule: the Department for Work and Pensions knows not what it does.

When I was at a particularly low point last month, my doctor extended my sicknote and Leo collected the certificate from the surgery for me. He delivered it to the Jobcentre on my behalf, who promised to fax it to the regional head office dealing with my ESA claim. Meanwhile I filled in one of those long forms detailing my condition and how useless it renders me: the cyclical nature of my mental state, my fear of people and going anywhere alone, and what I call my "black letterbox" days. Leo posted that for me too, and that should have been that.

Except that the Jobcentre hasn't faxed my second certificate at all. Having wondered why no payments had been forthcoming six weeks after I opened my claim, I called head office today to make enquiries. Everything was in order, but for a current medical certificate that should already have been received. Until they get one, I am apparently expected to live on fresh air. I cannot speak to my doctor about the situation until next week; the Easter holidays are upon us. Whilst I do not celebrate Easter, I cannot complain about the disruption. If the working calendar were based upon my own faith, the world would be relegated to a three-day working week.

Yet I count myself blessed that my claim is at least underway. Leo, too, is trying to make the transition from JSA to ESA, but lightning never strikes twice. After the initial phonecall to open his claim last week, he is still waiting on the follow-up paperwork. Again, this could be down to Easter-related issues with Royal Mail, but my beloved Leo does not have the patience that I do. He is quicker to see injustice and personal vendettas, however unlikely. Perhaps I would feel the same had I been caught up in the system as long as he has.

Unfortunately, several points about our situation do count against us. Unemployment is well above the national average in this city, and our local Jobcentre is busier than most. There are also many whose sense of entitlement outweighs their actual need; the riots that took place here last summer are proof-positive of this, and recovery is still ongoing. Things are made that much more difficult for those with genuine issues to receive the support they need, whilst those who are playing the system to receive welfare for nothing laugh behind our backs. It is a culture that young adults in this area have been immersed in since birth. One wonders, if the system had been fairer in the first place, whether these pressures now placed upon it could have been avoided.

Looking at the city through a window and a computer screen, I hold out very little hope of seeing positive reform in the area. Like so many other individuals in my situation, all over the country, I am limited to hoping that, just for once, the system will do right by me - and knowing that it will only be a matter of time before it fails me again.