"You wouldn't want to work in a school anyway.", said the woman behind the Job Centre desk. "Why not?", I asked. "Well...all those screaming kids..." She wrinkled her face disapprovingly. This civil servant was all faded glory and cigarette wrinkles. She reminded me of a pub landlady, and had a similar ruthless streak – keen to force me on and out as soon as she was satisfied I'd met all the requirements. So despite the sun folding away its fan of clouds and shining so hard its rays beat the sweat out of me, I didn't come out the job centre laughing this fortnight. But that's led me to a realisation: the way to get more people off benefit would be to hire three times as many staff, and then sit down every claimant with a cup of tea or a can of something fizzy, and just have a natter over a few chocolate biscuits and maybe a couple of jammy dodgers. Because despair falls like autumn leaves in that place. And I've not yet seen anyone in there who looks like a scrounger (except me :lol: ). And getting people to believe in themselves is half the battle.