Britain on polling day III

Running on empty

'I don't feel on the scrap-heap yet,
but it can't be far away'

Barbara Millar

It was quite a coincidence. On Sunday afternoon I was sitting in a bar in Leith with an old work colleague. On Sunday evening I tuned into 'What They Haven't Told Us', the aptly titled Channel 4 'Election Uncovered' programme, which involved a couple of civil servants, an economist, public policy experts, a political journalist and two former government ministers chewing over the extent to which, come Friday, 'things' are going to be far worse than we have so far been led to believe.
     One of the issues up for debate was unemployment – and the consensus was that we haven't seen the half of it yet. Our current 2.5 million out of work – not as bad as in Germany and France, we were reassured – could be joined pretty sharply by a further 500,000 at least, as swingeing public sector cuts are implemented. No-one in the election campaign has really talked about jobs, Professor Colin Talbot from Manchester Business School pointed out. And there soon could be another 'lost generation' of people unemployed for a very long time, as there had been back in the 1980s, he warned.
     Dr Linda Yeuh, an economist at Oxford University, said that the weak recovery, with its slow growth, meant that no new jobs would be created. 'Which is why the jobs issue is such a serious one,' she added.
    
Serious indeed, especially to the individuals so disadvantaged by being workless. I want to share just one person's experience – that of the former work colleague with whom I propped up a bar for an hour or two at the weekend. His name is Peter, he is 42 years old and he is quite desperate.
     Peter has been out of work since the beginning of December, when he resigned from his job as a residential childcare worker after being assaulted – again. One young lad, undoubtedly severely disturbed, lunged at him with a knife twice over one weekend. On this occasion Peter wasn't badly hurt but, inevitably, when you face even low-level assaults on a daily basis, the basic rate of pay he was getting to work alongside these young people suddenly did not seem sufficient recompense.
     He did not imagine it would take him long to get another job. After all, his track record was good. He was wrong. Months on from his resignation he is still looking. He has applied for more than 100 jobs – from local admin jobs earning £14,000 a year to project manager positions worth £20,000+ within the Glasgow-Edinburgh-Dumfries 'triangle'. So far, all he has to show for this diligence are 25 rejection letters and one interview.
     The interview was last Tuesday but, as yet, there has been no news – good or bad. 'I thought I would have heard something,' he says, despondently. The job is working with a local council – on basic pay and a three-month contract – knocking on doors and asking people if they had considered alternative forms of transport. At the end of the doorstep interview – if he got that far and didn't get the door slammed shut in his face – he was to proffer a leaflet. 'That really sums it up,' he says, 'I am 42 years old and I cannot get a job delivering leaflets'.
     Peter left school at 15, with five standard grades, and, as soon as he was old enough, joined the RAF, becoming a radio operator. He was in the service until he was 21 and then moved from Dumfries and Galloway to London, where he worked for five years as a telex operator within banks and other financial institutions. In 1993 he took a job as a rep for a large tour operator, meeting and greeting guests at hotels, airports and docks. When he came back to Scotland the following year, he continued in this line of work with the same tour company.
     A brief period working for a telecommunications company then followed, before he went back to the tour company, this time as a tour guide. The work was seasonal but reasonably well paid. By this time he was married with three young children to support.
     In 2003, he was watching a news item about a need for people to train as teachers, to plug the gap caused by 30% of them projected to leave the profession. 'I thought I would like to train as a history teacher, but to do that I needed a degree.'
     Ultimately he chose to study for a three-year liberal arts degree in heritage and tourism, which he successfully completed. Things were good in the tourism industry that year, and the following one, and he decided to keep on with the self-employed tour guide job while there were tours for the taking.
     Then work dried up. In 2008 he did four tours – a grand total of 27 days work during the year. In 2009 the number of tours was down to three. The credit crunch was making its mark. So, last year, he took the job with the organisation offering support for children in crisis – and he lasted as long as he could.
     At 42, Peter is supported by his 82-year-old father, who is eating into his savings to give his son the £500 a month needed to cover his mortgage and bills. Peter's unemployment benefit is £65 a week, from which he must pay £28 a month to the Child Support Agency for his now-estranged wife and children. 'I hate borrowing from my dad,' he says. 'But I have no choice. And, if things go on like this, I will have to move back into his house and give up my own home.'
     I ask how he spends his days. It is a formula for frustration. After household 'chores', which he ekes out as long as he can, he watches endless TV, mostly the comedy channel. But whether there are any programmes which can provoke a laugh in such circumstances, he doesn't say. If there is nothing on, he'll take his dad's dog for an extra walk. Or, on a fine day, sit outside listening to the radio.
     Each week he takes a selection of local and national newspapers and scours them for jobs. He also visits countless job sites online. He doesn't feel 'on the scrap-heap, yet', he adds. 'But it can't be far away.' Apparently becoming 43 (which he will do later this month) will 'tip him into the danger zone', so he has been informed.
    
In 2008 Peter had £20,000 saved in three bank accounts. When I meet him he has £4.50 to his name, to last until Thursday. He is grateful that I stand him a sandwich and a drink. He has thought of moving away from Scotland – perhaps even overseas – but he is an only child and knows he has to keep an eye on his ageing father. And he needs to keep a relationship going with his kids.
     'I don't know what is worse,' he says, 'the constant rejection letters or having to fill out endless application forms that you know won't get you anywhere.' Three out of four companies never respond, even to say no thanks, he points out.
     But on the day we meet he seems rather chirpy, and is clutching a CD. This, it transpires, is a 'show-reel of his talents'. A while back he rang a newspaper ad, which offered anyone who 'dreams of being a radio presenter, television presenter or voice-over artist' the opportunity to undertake a one-day 'intensive course' to learn about the business and how to go about getting such employment.
     The course lasted from 11am to 3pm and, for the £220 fee, Peter now has a CD of his voice, reading out a compilation of travel news, commentary between records, a couple of adverts and a radio competition, which he must now hawk around to see whether there is even the faintest sniff of such work.
     Peter appreciates he is clutching at straws. However, in the present economic climate – and the even worse one now forecast to be on the horizon – straws are the just about only comfort he has left.

Barbara Millar is a journalist

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