When I started work, okay, I was on minimum wage, but I had something that Steve and his high-flying techie friends didn't have. An office kitchen with a "help yourself" policy. While none of the people with 'proper' jobs were really about to take an 80% pay cut and relinquish their daytime internet access just for free tea, coffee, and biscuits, it did make me feel a little bit better. I had a Perk. I didn't have to drink hot coloured water from a plastic cup and pretend it was tea, and I never had to thump a vending machine which had eaten my last twenty pence piece but not dispensed my goodies. No tokens, no cards, no forms, no systems, no unspoken implication that given half a chance the employees would undermine the entire company with our gluttony... just a decent cuppa and a biscuit whenever I felt I wanted one. It must not be underrated.
Then the unthinkable happened. A couple of people went on diets, and the person who had been the most influential in keeping the biscuit cupboard stocked left for another job. I would go to the cupboard and find no biscuits - or worse, I would find half a packet of Custard Creams, which I detest. For the last few months, I've been taking my own snack in my handbag, which isn't a problem, but I did miss my mid-afternoon Perk of biscuitty goodness.
But yesterday! I don't know what compelled me to look in the cupboard, but I did, and lo, there was half a packet of Custard Creams, and... a pristine, unopened packed of chocolate digestives. Dark chocolate digestives. My favourite.
Could be it's the drugs talking - I am having a bit of a time of it and taking more than I otherwise would this week - but that packet of biscuits filled my heart with joy. I suddenly felt a lot more positive about all sorts of things.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
eBay Ettiquette
For some reason I decided I was going to look at clothes on eBay last weekend. I don't especially need any new clothes, but I felt it wouldn't hurt to put on a few bids well within my "affordable" range. I searched specifically for brands where I already know what size will fit me, but that I can't normally afford to buy new.
On Monday, I won Top#1, a strappy party top which set me back £10 (plus £2 for p&P). I received the standard automated emails from eBay, paid with PayPal, and today, Friday, it dropped through my letterbox, safe and sound in a durable envelope.
So far so good. Except...
On Tuesday night, I won Top#2, which is an asymmetric 'everyday' kind of top and cost me £1.49 (plus £2.16 for p&p including recorded delivery). In addition to the standard automated emails, the seller sent a message to let me know she had posted the item and telling me the Tracking Number. Yesterday, Thursday, the package arrived. I opened the sensible waterproof envelope and pulled out the contents - but instead of cotton in my hands, there was paper. Neatly folded soft grey tissue paper, secured in three places with three tiny little shiny stickers. I actually wondered if maybe it wasn't an eBay purchase but a present! I undid the stickers and unwrapped it to find my new top, carefully pressed and folded and with a faint but pleasant smell.
Obviously I got straight on the computer to give the seller of Top#2 maximum positive feedback and also to send a thank you email.
But now I feel uneasy about feedback for Top#1. I mean, there was nothing wrong with that transaction, I don't have any complaints about it at all, I'd happily shop with them again. But then there's the Detailed Seller Ratings (DSRs).
As well as going 'above and beyond' in terms of presentation, the seller of Top#2 was clearly better than the seller of Top#1 in three of the DSR categories - communication (they told me when they had posted the top), dispatch time (the top arrived less than 48 hours after the auction closed), and postage and packaging charges (charged almost exactly the same, but for a superior signed-for postal service, and nicer packaging).
So, having joyfully given the really-made-one-hell-of-an-effort seller of Top#2 a perfect DSR of 5-5-5-5 on Thursday, can I really, on Friday, give the entirely-acceptable-but-nothing-special seller of Top#1 an identical perfect score?
But if I don't, am I being unfair to the seller of Top#1? According to eBay's Help pages, sellers who subscribe to Shops:
"... will be required to maintain the following minimum 12-month average DSR scores in each of the four areas:
Note: Failure to maintain these requirements will affect your Shops subscription, and you could be downgraded to a lower Shop tier with a different fee structure."
It's not like the seller of Top#1 has "failed" to provide an acceptable standard of service, and they shouldn't get downgraded just because I want to differentiate between 'good' and 'great' service.
Any eBay sellers want to give me their input?
On Monday, I won Top#1, a strappy party top which set me back £10 (plus £2 for p&P). I received the standard automated emails from eBay, paid with PayPal, and today, Friday, it dropped through my letterbox, safe and sound in a durable envelope.
So far so good. Except...
On Tuesday night, I won Top#2, which is an asymmetric 'everyday' kind of top and cost me £1.49 (plus £2.16 for p&p including recorded delivery). In addition to the standard automated emails, the seller sent a message to let me know she had posted the item and telling me the Tracking Number. Yesterday, Thursday, the package arrived. I opened the sensible waterproof envelope and pulled out the contents - but instead of cotton in my hands, there was paper. Neatly folded soft grey tissue paper, secured in three places with three tiny little shiny stickers. I actually wondered if maybe it wasn't an eBay purchase but a present! I undid the stickers and unwrapped it to find my new top, carefully pressed and folded and with a faint but pleasant smell.
Obviously I got straight on the computer to give the seller of Top#2 maximum positive feedback and also to send a thank you email.
But now I feel uneasy about feedback for Top#1. I mean, there was nothing wrong with that transaction, I don't have any complaints about it at all, I'd happily shop with them again. But then there's the Detailed Seller Ratings (DSRs).
As well as going 'above and beyond' in terms of presentation, the seller of Top#2 was clearly better than the seller of Top#1 in three of the DSR categories - communication (they told me when they had posted the top), dispatch time (the top arrived less than 48 hours after the auction closed), and postage and packaging charges (charged almost exactly the same, but for a superior signed-for postal service, and nicer packaging).
So, having joyfully given the really-made-one-hell-of-an-effort seller of Top#2 a perfect DSR of 5-5-5-5 on Thursday, can I really, on Friday, give the entirely-acceptable-but-nothing-special seller of Top#1 an identical perfect score?
But if I don't, am I being unfair to the seller of Top#1? According to eBay's Help pages, sellers who subscribe to Shops:
"... will be required to maintain the following minimum 12-month average DSR scores in each of the four areas:
- For a Featured Shop, maintain a DSR score of 4.4 or above
- For an Anchor Shop, maintain a DSR score of 4.6 or above
Note: Failure to maintain these requirements will affect your Shops subscription, and you could be downgraded to a lower Shop tier with a different fee structure."
It's not like the seller of Top#1 has "failed" to provide an acceptable standard of service, and they shouldn't get downgraded just because I want to differentiate between 'good' and 'great' service.
Any eBay sellers want to give me their input?
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Isn't this nice?
Things are ticking over really well at the moment.
The main Thing I want to tell the world about is something I've wanted to say for a couple of months now but haven't dared in case it turned out to be temporary. But it's looking more and more permanent, so here we go: I am no longer actively seeking different employment.
The reason for this is that my role at work has been sort of shuffled. In a good way. The company I work for are doing really quite well at the moment, so we have a lot of orders being placed, lots of stock coming in and packages going out. The 'role creep' kind of started with an increase in the number of packages that had to be sent Signed For or Special Delivery, so instead of spending five minutes a day sitting in the office carefully writing addresses into books and putting barcode stickers onto packages, it was more like half an hour or so. Then we got an arrangement with ParcelForce for the increased numbers of high-value overseas packages, and of course such packages often require more detailed customs declarations than a single CD does, as well as the information having to be correctly entered into the online system. From there it was a short step to assigning me other "office based" tasks - the increased volume of orders and stock throughput means there's a lot more admin to be done and much of it doesn't require a knowledge of classical music, just a reasonable ability with computers and some basic admin skills, which I've already got.
Which brought me to a stage where, of my average four and a half hour working day, I spend about one hour doing ParcelForce and Signed For packages, two hours doing other admin tasks in the office, one hour helping pick and pack CDs in the Despatch room, and half an hour sorting out the documentation for the mail sacks to be collected by Royal Mail at the end of each day. I have a variety of tasks, some more challenging than others, all of which I am capable of performing, and some of which I quite enjoy (for a given value of workplace enjoyment). I am working for a company who took me on as a disabled person (but not because I was a disabled person) and have been 100% supportive of my needs for the eighteen months I've been there. I get to use my brain and yet I also get to wear jeans and trainers to work.
I was applying for other jobs because nice as the company was I didn't want to spend the rest of my life mindlessly putting CDs in boxes. Now it appears I've won the best of both worlds.
And then, cherry on the cake...
One of my regular tasks is to deal with "deletions". This is when a customer orders a CD that we don't have in stock, so we ask a record label supplier to send us a copy, and then they tell us that the title has been deleted from their catalogue and they don't have any copies left. My job is then to remove the deleted title from our system, remove the deleted title from the customer's order, refund the customer's credit card, and email the customer to apologise and explain what has happened. It's a disappointing email. Which is why I find it surprising that a healthy proportion of customers actually bother to email back. Not in a ranty way either, just along the lines of "okay, thanks for letting me know," which for some reason makes me feel really happy - I think it's simply the idea that people have been bothered to be so polite.
The main Thing I want to tell the world about is something I've wanted to say for a couple of months now but haven't dared in case it turned out to be temporary. But it's looking more and more permanent, so here we go: I am no longer actively seeking different employment.
The reason for this is that my role at work has been sort of shuffled. In a good way. The company I work for are doing really quite well at the moment, so we have a lot of orders being placed, lots of stock coming in and packages going out. The 'role creep' kind of started with an increase in the number of packages that had to be sent Signed For or Special Delivery, so instead of spending five minutes a day sitting in the office carefully writing addresses into books and putting barcode stickers onto packages, it was more like half an hour or so. Then we got an arrangement with ParcelForce for the increased numbers of high-value overseas packages, and of course such packages often require more detailed customs declarations than a single CD does, as well as the information having to be correctly entered into the online system. From there it was a short step to assigning me other "office based" tasks - the increased volume of orders and stock throughput means there's a lot more admin to be done and much of it doesn't require a knowledge of classical music, just a reasonable ability with computers and some basic admin skills, which I've already got.
Which brought me to a stage where, of my average four and a half hour working day, I spend about one hour doing ParcelForce and Signed For packages, two hours doing other admin tasks in the office, one hour helping pick and pack CDs in the Despatch room, and half an hour sorting out the documentation for the mail sacks to be collected by Royal Mail at the end of each day. I have a variety of tasks, some more challenging than others, all of which I am capable of performing, and some of which I quite enjoy (for a given value of workplace enjoyment). I am working for a company who took me on as a disabled person (but not because I was a disabled person) and have been 100% supportive of my needs for the eighteen months I've been there. I get to use my brain and yet I also get to wear jeans and trainers to work.
I was applying for other jobs because nice as the company was I didn't want to spend the rest of my life mindlessly putting CDs in boxes. Now it appears I've won the best of both worlds.
And then, cherry on the cake...
One of my regular tasks is to deal with "deletions". This is when a customer orders a CD that we don't have in stock, so we ask a record label supplier to send us a copy, and then they tell us that the title has been deleted from their catalogue and they don't have any copies left. My job is then to remove the deleted title from our system, remove the deleted title from the customer's order, refund the customer's credit card, and email the customer to apologise and explain what has happened. It's a disappointing email. Which is why I find it surprising that a healthy proportion of customers actually bother to email back. Not in a ranty way either, just along the lines of "okay, thanks for letting me know," which for some reason makes me feel really happy - I think it's simply the idea that people have been bothered to be so polite.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
BADD 2009 Roundup
Phew. As Blogging Against Disablism Day gets bigger, it gets harder to keep on top of it. There have been some 200 entries this year, all of which can be found here. I've read about 120 of them since yesterday morning and now I can take no more. I will make the effort to read the others over the next week or so, but the intensive effort has to stop now.
For those of you who, for some strange reason, don't want to turn your eyeballs inside out and spend your entire Bank Holiday Weekend reading 200 posts about disablism, I decided to do like I did last year and post a rather more easily-digestible handful of my favourite BADD posts.
Remember, I haven't read all the posts yet and this is my top five percent of the posts that I have read, so if yours isn't in there, please don't take it as any kind of slight... oh, and it doesn't include posts from the half-dozen or so BADD bloggers who I consider "friends" because I felt that might be somewhat biased.
Laura at Gin & Comment: "Mainstream" schooling and disablism. A peripatetic English teacher in Japan writes about the different ways schoolchildren respond to disability when different approaches to integrated schooling are applied.
Lauredhel at Hoyden About Town: Can I have a seat? Discusses practical access issues in and around shops and services, and the issues involved in trying to explain access needs that go beyond having a ramp somewhere.
Dora Raymaker at Autism - Change.org: Just Because I'm Quiet Doesn't Mean I Don't Understand. Required reading for those who assume that just because a person can't communicate verbally (or at all) and/or "looks disabled", it therefore means they can't understand what you are saying about them.
RachelCreative: When My Disability Is Invisible raises the problem of assumptions in the other direction - people assuming that you can do what they are demanding of you and that your requests for help or adjustments are merely contrariness that can be safely ignored. This post is accompanied by some of Rachel's own wonderful disability artwork.
Sanabitur Anima Mea: Mild and Severe disability. About dependence, interdependence, and 'degrees' of disability. As the writer says: "I don’t believe there’s anyone out there who has the special magical amount of severity which is enough to get your needs taken seriously but not so much you get considered worthless."
Astrid at Astrid's Journal: BADD Behavior: Disablism in Psychiatry. Raising the point that some behaviours considered undesirable by mental health professionals may not be a symptom of the patient's condition, but might be a sane and understandable response to the (wilful or incidental) dehumanising treatment imposed on patients by those professionals for their own convenience.
Tony at Cynical Chatter From The Underworld: Fear and Loathing in the UK. Cynical indeed, a dark post about the negative portrayal and poor treatment of disabled people in our society, and the lack of meaningful protections against the consequences of this.
Enjoy. I'm going to go remind myself what natural light is all about.
For those of you who, for some strange reason, don't want to turn your eyeballs inside out and spend your entire Bank Holiday Weekend reading 200 posts about disablism, I decided to do like I did last year and post a rather more easily-digestible handful of my favourite BADD posts.
Remember, I haven't read all the posts yet and this is my top five percent of the posts that I have read, so if yours isn't in there, please don't take it as any kind of slight... oh, and it doesn't include posts from the half-dozen or so BADD bloggers who I consider "friends" because I felt that might be somewhat biased.
Laura at Gin & Comment: "Mainstream" schooling and disablism. A peripatetic English teacher in Japan writes about the different ways schoolchildren respond to disability when different approaches to integrated schooling are applied.
Lauredhel at Hoyden About Town: Can I have a seat? Discusses practical access issues in and around shops and services, and the issues involved in trying to explain access needs that go beyond having a ramp somewhere.
Dora Raymaker at Autism - Change.org: Just Because I'm Quiet Doesn't Mean I Don't Understand. Required reading for those who assume that just because a person can't communicate verbally (or at all) and/or "looks disabled", it therefore means they can't understand what you are saying about them.
RachelCreative: When My Disability Is Invisible raises the problem of assumptions in the other direction - people assuming that you can do what they are demanding of you and that your requests for help or adjustments are merely contrariness that can be safely ignored. This post is accompanied by some of Rachel's own wonderful disability artwork.
Sanabitur Anima Mea: Mild and Severe disability. About dependence, interdependence, and 'degrees' of disability. As the writer says: "I don’t believe there’s anyone out there who has the special magical amount of severity which is enough to get your needs taken seriously but not so much you get considered worthless."
Astrid at Astrid's Journal: BADD Behavior: Disablism in Psychiatry. Raising the point that some behaviours considered undesirable by mental health professionals may not be a symptom of the patient's condition, but might be a sane and understandable response to the (wilful or incidental) dehumanising treatment imposed on patients by those professionals for their own convenience.
Tony at Cynical Chatter From The Underworld: Fear and Loathing in the UK. Cynical indeed, a dark post about the negative portrayal and poor treatment of disabled people in our society, and the lack of meaningful protections against the consequences of this.
Enjoy. I'm going to go remind myself what natural light is all about.
Friday, May 01, 2009
Well-meaning Insults
For Blogging Against Disablism Day 2009.
On April 13th, I posted to alert my readers to the annual Blogging Against Disablism Day event. I was umm-ing and aah-ing over what particular topic I should write about - and then, like a gift from the gods, came this comment:
hi mary--
have been reading your blog for a bit, & this is sort of a response to your wanting to have a kid with steve.
it makes me sad to read your struggles, but i would beg you to leave that idea (or even adoption or fostering behind.)
how on earth could you take care of a child when you spend most of your time seriously broken? you seem like a lovely person & to put a child in that position would be cruel no matter how much you craved being a mommy.
please be careful, stay on birth control & accept that your fate is to not be able to go down a maternal road.
best to you. sandy
My first thought was to write a blogpost (or fifty) explaining exactly how Steve and I intend to deal with some of the challenges posed by parenthood, the potential solutions we've discussed about logistics, equipment, safety, human support and so on. But why? This isn't a parenting blog, and until such time as Steve and I decide to take active steps to make a family, there's no good reason for it to become one. Justifying my life choices to internet strangers seems like a poor way to spend my time and energy.
That's when I started to become angry. Of all the topics covered on my blog, from knitting to job interviews, from Social Services to fun days out, how is it that a stranger feels the need to "respond" solely to the idea of Steve and I having a family together - an issue last mentioned several months previously and in the context of a 99 things blog meme?
Simple answer: Disablism.
This wasn't a personal attack on me, or even a well-meant but blundering remark on my life as an individual. It had very little to do with Mary, Batsgirl, aged 27 and living with a boyfriend and a robot vacuum cleaner.
Sandy wasn't thinking about my personal capabilities, or my personal circumstances, or my personal motivations - how could she? I'm hardly the world's most regular blogger and only a fraction of my life is displayed on here. She was writing about a stereotype of a disabled person, or as she put it, someone "seriously broken". When that stereotype was challenged by my offhand mention of a one-day ambition to have a family, she was so shocked by it that she felt the need to "beg" me not to do it.
Sandy was assuming that, as a couple which includes a disabled person, Steve and I would be unable to raise a child.
Sandy was assuming that Steve and I would be unable to consider our own circumstances and resources and make a sensible decision for ourselves, and that it was therefore perfectly okay for her to tell us what we should and should not do with our lives.
Sandy asked "how on earth could you take care of a child?" as a rhetorical question - she wasn't interested in waiting for (let alone listening to) any response before moving straight on to dictating my "fate" because she had already made up her mind that a disabled person such as myself cannot take care of a child.
Sandy cannot open her mind enough to consider that a child who has a disabled parent could be happy, comfortable, loved and well looked after. She considers disabled parents to be "cruel" for inflicting their horrible crippled selves on an innocent kiddie. I suspect she's thinking of the telethon image of a melancholy 'young carer' gazing soulfully out of the window and begging for their childhood back. This article by Lucy Scholl offers a different perspective, as does this one by Laurence Clark.
Sandy was writing about her own prejudices, her own unsubstantiated views, and her own baseless assumptions. Sandy was writing about her fears, her closed-mindedness, and her negative mental picture of disabled people - and then superimposing all that onto me to pre-emptively accuse me of child abuse.
That's disablism.
What's encouraging, though, is that the tide is turning. After responding to Sandy's horrendous comment, I tweeted about how gobsmacked I was, and within minutes support was arriving in the form of blog comments, tweets, emails and suchlike, much of it from friends who aren't politically- or disability-minded. More and more 'ordinary people' are becoming more and more accepting of the idea that a disabled person is every bit as much a person as one who is not yet disabled. As a civilisation we have a lot of that journey still ahead of us, but I take heart from the knowledge that significant steps have been and will continue to be made.
On April 13th, I posted to alert my readers to the annual Blogging Against Disablism Day event. I was umm-ing and aah-ing over what particular topic I should write about - and then, like a gift from the gods, came this comment:
hi mary--
have been reading your blog for a bit, & this is sort of a response to your wanting to have a kid with steve.
it makes me sad to read your struggles, but i would beg you to leave that idea (or even adoption or fostering behind.)
how on earth could you take care of a child when you spend most of your time seriously broken? you seem like a lovely person & to put a child in that position would be cruel no matter how much you craved being a mommy.
please be careful, stay on birth control & accept that your fate is to not be able to go down a maternal road.
best to you. sandy
My first thought was to write a blogpost (or fifty) explaining exactly how Steve and I intend to deal with some of the challenges posed by parenthood, the potential solutions we've discussed about logistics, equipment, safety, human support and so on. But why? This isn't a parenting blog, and until such time as Steve and I decide to take active steps to make a family, there's no good reason for it to become one. Justifying my life choices to internet strangers seems like a poor way to spend my time and energy.
That's when I started to become angry. Of all the topics covered on my blog, from knitting to job interviews, from Social Services to fun days out, how is it that a stranger feels the need to "respond" solely to the idea of Steve and I having a family together - an issue last mentioned several months previously and in the context of a 99 things blog meme?
Simple answer: Disablism.
This wasn't a personal attack on me, or even a well-meant but blundering remark on my life as an individual. It had very little to do with Mary, Batsgirl, aged 27 and living with a boyfriend and a robot vacuum cleaner.
Sandy wasn't thinking about my personal capabilities, or my personal circumstances, or my personal motivations - how could she? I'm hardly the world's most regular blogger and only a fraction of my life is displayed on here. She was writing about a stereotype of a disabled person, or as she put it, someone "seriously broken". When that stereotype was challenged by my offhand mention of a one-day ambition to have a family, she was so shocked by it that she felt the need to "beg" me not to do it.
Sandy was assuming that, as a couple which includes a disabled person, Steve and I would be unable to raise a child.
Sandy was assuming that Steve and I would be unable to consider our own circumstances and resources and make a sensible decision for ourselves, and that it was therefore perfectly okay for her to tell us what we should and should not do with our lives.
Sandy asked "how on earth could you take care of a child?" as a rhetorical question - she wasn't interested in waiting for (let alone listening to) any response before moving straight on to dictating my "fate" because she had already made up her mind that a disabled person such as myself cannot take care of a child.
Sandy cannot open her mind enough to consider that a child who has a disabled parent could be happy, comfortable, loved and well looked after. She considers disabled parents to be "cruel" for inflicting their horrible crippled selves on an innocent kiddie. I suspect she's thinking of the telethon image of a melancholy 'young carer' gazing soulfully out of the window and begging for their childhood back. This article by Lucy Scholl offers a different perspective, as does this one by Laurence Clark.
Sandy was writing about her own prejudices, her own unsubstantiated views, and her own baseless assumptions. Sandy was writing about her fears, her closed-mindedness, and her negative mental picture of disabled people - and then superimposing all that onto me to pre-emptively accuse me of child abuse.
That's disablism.
What's encouraging, though, is that the tide is turning. After responding to Sandy's horrendous comment, I tweeted about how gobsmacked I was, and within minutes support was arriving in the form of blog comments, tweets, emails and suchlike, much of it from friends who aren't politically- or disability-minded. More and more 'ordinary people' are becoming more and more accepting of the idea that a disabled person is every bit as much a person as one who is not yet disabled. As a civilisation we have a lot of that journey still ahead of us, but I take heart from the knowledge that significant steps have been and will continue to be made.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Is this the right target?
"Business leaders have called for a minimum wage freeze as part of measures to help private industry drive the economy out of recession."
Business Leader: Someone who is not attempting to live on minimum wage.
Minimum Wage: In the UK, for people over 22 years of age, £5.73 per hour. In real terms* a minimum-wage full-time worker has about £20 more per week in their pocket than someone on state benefits, which are defined as the minimum amount the government says a person needs to live on.
The cost of living is rising and basic essentials like accommodation, food, water and fuel are becoming more and more expensive. The problem is... let's say that in the next year the cost of these necessities rises by £500 overall. A Business Leader might have to cut back on luxuries - perhaps one less meal out per month, or one less holiday per year, to cover that. They'll still have a pretty good quality of life. A Minimum Wage Worker, on the other hand, doesn't have that many luxuries to cut. They're already on the poverty line.
I don't know what the way out of the recession is, but I feel certain that it shouldn't be the people who are working their backsides off for a tiny wage who get kicked in the shorts in the name of saving the economy.
* For a full-time worker, minimum wage is £212 per week. This is about £60 a week more than a single person's state benefits of approximately £150pw (comprised of Housing Benefit (~£70pw), Council Tax Benefit (~£20pw) and Jobseeker's Allowance (£60.50pw)) but must also cover things like prescriptions and dental work (free for people on income-related benefit) as well as additional work-related expenses such as suitable work clothing, transport to and from work, and of course tax.
Business Leader: Someone who is not attempting to live on minimum wage.
Minimum Wage: In the UK, for people over 22 years of age, £5.73 per hour. In real terms* a minimum-wage full-time worker has about £20 more per week in their pocket than someone on state benefits, which are defined as the minimum amount the government says a person needs to live on.
The cost of living is rising and basic essentials like accommodation, food, water and fuel are becoming more and more expensive. The problem is... let's say that in the next year the cost of these necessities rises by £500 overall. A Business Leader might have to cut back on luxuries - perhaps one less meal out per month, or one less holiday per year, to cover that. They'll still have a pretty good quality of life. A Minimum Wage Worker, on the other hand, doesn't have that many luxuries to cut. They're already on the poverty line.
I don't know what the way out of the recession is, but I feel certain that it shouldn't be the people who are working their backsides off for a tiny wage who get kicked in the shorts in the name of saving the economy.
* For a full-time worker, minimum wage is £212 per week. This is about £60 a week more than a single person's state benefits of approximately £150pw (comprised of Housing Benefit (~£70pw), Council Tax Benefit (~£20pw) and Jobseeker's Allowance (£60.50pw)) but must also cover things like prescriptions and dental work (free for people on income-related benefit) as well as additional work-related expenses such as suitable work clothing, transport to and from work, and of course tax.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Blogging Against Disablism Day will be on 1st May, 2009
Once again, the excellent Goldfish is hosting Blogging Against Disablism Day on May 1st 2009.
This will be the fourth year running for BADD (see archives of 2006, 2007, and 2008) and the second year I am participating. Well, I say second. My 2008 post is here. Technically I was around for 2007 but I wasn't in a fit state to write anything, and that could happen again, we'll see (currently I am drafting posts and then deciding they're rubbish, it'll be a minor miracle if I even publish this BADD reminder). Of course if anybody wanted to suggest a particular topic or news story for me to pull to bits, get me started, that might help. But better yet would be writing your own post and joining in - you don't have to be disabled and it's fun to be a part of the whole shebang.
This will be the fourth year running for BADD (see archives of 2006, 2007, and 2008) and the second year I am participating. Well, I say second. My 2008 post is here. Technically I was around for 2007 but I wasn't in a fit state to write anything, and that could happen again, we'll see (currently I am drafting posts and then deciding they're rubbish, it'll be a minor miracle if I even publish this BADD reminder). Of course if anybody wanted to suggest a particular topic or news story for me to pull to bits, get me started, that might help. But better yet would be writing your own post and joining in - you don't have to be disabled and it's fun to be a part of the whole shebang.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
More PA Stuff
Wednesday was my second session with my PA. We went to the Pump Rooms in Leamington which is a sort of combination of art gallery, museum, library, tourist information desk, cafe, and function rooms. It was interesting, but in a slightly weird way.
We were wandering around looking at all the exhibits about the history of Leamington Spa, and of course a lot of that is information about, you know, the actual Spa part of it. Some of the more experimental equipment looked downright scary, but a lot of the descriptions made the spa experience seem like a lovely way to spend a day. The Victorian visitors to the spa would drink lots of water (although apparently it didn't taste very nice), and then you'd have a soak in this and a massage with that and a steam treatment over here and then you'd go through to a cooler room and relax on a sort of sun-lounger while someone brought you a drink and a snack. The place was purpose-built and therefore extraordinarily accessible, since a big chunk of the target market would by definition be elderly or infirm and therefore being wheeled about the place. However it is also beautiful, since another important aspect of its function was to be a pleasant and relaxing environment rather than a clinical one. Afterwards, you went across the road to Jephson Gardens to enjoy the gentle recreation and surroundings.
God, it sounded like bliss, the absolute art of relaxation. Which was the weird bit. To be a disabled and kind of stressed-out (don't ask) person, sitting in an accessible hydrotherapy and relaxation facility, which is no longer in use but gets given money to produce displays and information about how fabulous it once was...
I still haven't got the hang of having a PA yet, though. The problem isn't her - she's lovely and doing really well. I just can't seem to get my head around having an employee.
For example. On Wednesday, when we got back from our outing, I was feeling pretty rough, and I wanted a cup of tea. So while my PA brought in the wheelchair, I shuffled through to the kitchen and started trying to make a cuppa. I was visibly and obviously having trouble, and my PA asked if I'd like her to do it. Full marks to her for asking rather than muscling in. But I messed up - I autoresponded with "no, no, I can manage" just like I would if a friend was there.
But my PA is not there as a friend. She's there as an employee. Helping me with the normal stuff (like tea-making) that is difficult or painful for me to attempt to do is not an additional favour that I would be unreasonably demanding of a friend who has already put themselves out for me by taking me out. It is the entire reason she is there and is what she is getting paid for. It is unfair of me as an employer to expect her to stand around like a lemon watching me struggle when she is aware that her job description is to help me so that I don't have to struggle.
I really have to try and get to grips with the whole idea. Intellectually I get it, but in a more immediate sense, it's just... I get through my life by insisting that I am capable of being independent, that I can Do Things, although they might be more difficult or take longer. In my day-to-day life I do any number of things that are stupid or reckless or painful simply because they need doing and no one else is likely to do them - like hanging up laundry or heating up food or washing up dishes - and then I fall over or spill stuff or scald myself or break something - and then I basically yell at myself to stop being such a useless pansy and get the hell on with things. But it gets worse, because then on the occasions when I am offered help, I push it away! For instance, I'm so sick of people assuming that Steve does everything for me and waits on me hand and foot, that I overcompensate in trying to make sure he doesn't do anything of the sort. It's even worse with people I don't know well. Admitting I can't do stuff and asking for help is like doing a DLA form. I hate it. It makes me feel vulnerable. It's also really irrational and I need to find a way of sorting it out.
We were wandering around looking at all the exhibits about the history of Leamington Spa, and of course a lot of that is information about, you know, the actual Spa part of it. Some of the more experimental equipment looked downright scary, but a lot of the descriptions made the spa experience seem like a lovely way to spend a day. The Victorian visitors to the spa would drink lots of water (although apparently it didn't taste very nice), and then you'd have a soak in this and a massage with that and a steam treatment over here and then you'd go through to a cooler room and relax on a sort of sun-lounger while someone brought you a drink and a snack. The place was purpose-built and therefore extraordinarily accessible, since a big chunk of the target market would by definition be elderly or infirm and therefore being wheeled about the place. However it is also beautiful, since another important aspect of its function was to be a pleasant and relaxing environment rather than a clinical one. Afterwards, you went across the road to Jephson Gardens to enjoy the gentle recreation and surroundings.
God, it sounded like bliss, the absolute art of relaxation. Which was the weird bit. To be a disabled and kind of stressed-out (don't ask) person, sitting in an accessible hydrotherapy and relaxation facility, which is no longer in use but gets given money to produce displays and information about how fabulous it once was...
I still haven't got the hang of having a PA yet, though. The problem isn't her - she's lovely and doing really well. I just can't seem to get my head around having an employee.
For example. On Wednesday, when we got back from our outing, I was feeling pretty rough, and I wanted a cup of tea. So while my PA brought in the wheelchair, I shuffled through to the kitchen and started trying to make a cuppa. I was visibly and obviously having trouble, and my PA asked if I'd like her to do it. Full marks to her for asking rather than muscling in. But I messed up - I autoresponded with "no, no, I can manage" just like I would if a friend was there.
But my PA is not there as a friend. She's there as an employee. Helping me with the normal stuff (like tea-making) that is difficult or painful for me to attempt to do is not an additional favour that I would be unreasonably demanding of a friend who has already put themselves out for me by taking me out. It is the entire reason she is there and is what she is getting paid for. It is unfair of me as an employer to expect her to stand around like a lemon watching me struggle when she is aware that her job description is to help me so that I don't have to struggle.
I really have to try and get to grips with the whole idea. Intellectually I get it, but in a more immediate sense, it's just... I get through my life by insisting that I am capable of being independent, that I can Do Things, although they might be more difficult or take longer. In my day-to-day life I do any number of things that are stupid or reckless or painful simply because they need doing and no one else is likely to do them - like hanging up laundry or heating up food or washing up dishes - and then I fall over or spill stuff or scald myself or break something - and then I basically yell at myself to stop being such a useless pansy and get the hell on with things. But it gets worse, because then on the occasions when I am offered help, I push it away! For instance, I'm so sick of people assuming that Steve does everything for me and waits on me hand and foot, that I overcompensate in trying to make sure he doesn't do anything of the sort. It's even worse with people I don't know well. Admitting I can't do stuff and asking for help is like doing a DLA form. I hate it. It makes me feel vulnerable. It's also really irrational and I need to find a way of sorting it out.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Good Start
Today was the first day with my new PA and I don't think it could have gone better.
She came round this morning, bang on time, which is always a good start. We spent a while going through the formal paperwork (and hooray for P at the Rowan for making sure I knew exactly what needed doing to each piece), and I also gave her the instructions for what to do in case of those little emergencies, so frequent in my life, that aren't 999 emergencies but involve me being too incapacitated to explain what's going on as the situation unfolds. I'd used an online translation tool to print up those instructions in both English and in her own first language, and she seemed a bit surprised by that, but in a good way. I was a bit concerned about whether it was the right approach - on the one hand, I wanted to be 100% sure she would know what to do in such a situation rather than have to translate as well as cope, on the other hand, I didn't want to seem patronising as her English is pretty good - but it seems to have gone okay.
After that, it was just a question of showing her how to take apart and reassemble the wheelchair and we were off and away into town. Nice and relaxed, we went into a few shops in the generally quite accessible central part of the town. She listened well to advice about how to best tackle certain obstacles (such as the trick of going backwards to get through a door with a lip), and in shops she was really good about browsing nearby without hovering over my shoulder or making me feel rushed.
The weather was gorgeous so we sat outside at the Olive Garden Café and I had some juice and a snack and enjoyed watching the world go by for a bit. Then we went to the park for a wander-around. Turns out this is something we have in common - we both love the sunshine.
I guess it sounds like a strange thing to get excited about. "It was my day off. The weather was nice. I went into town, looked in some shops, bought a couple of things, had something to eat, and then went to the park."
But the really exciting parts, you see, are things like:
Next week I think I might see about going swimming. I fear that part of me is going to run into trouble thinking of Things To Do, now that I have someone available to help me do them. Suggestions would be very, very welcome.
She came round this morning, bang on time, which is always a good start. We spent a while going through the formal paperwork (and hooray for P at the Rowan for making sure I knew exactly what needed doing to each piece), and I also gave her the instructions for what to do in case of those little emergencies, so frequent in my life, that aren't 999 emergencies but involve me being too incapacitated to explain what's going on as the situation unfolds. I'd used an online translation tool to print up those instructions in both English and in her own first language, and she seemed a bit surprised by that, but in a good way. I was a bit concerned about whether it was the right approach - on the one hand, I wanted to be 100% sure she would know what to do in such a situation rather than have to translate as well as cope, on the other hand, I didn't want to seem patronising as her English is pretty good - but it seems to have gone okay.
After that, it was just a question of showing her how to take apart and reassemble the wheelchair and we were off and away into town. Nice and relaxed, we went into a few shops in the generally quite accessible central part of the town. She listened well to advice about how to best tackle certain obstacles (such as the trick of going backwards to get through a door with a lip), and in shops she was really good about browsing nearby without hovering over my shoulder or making me feel rushed.
The weather was gorgeous so we sat outside at the Olive Garden Café and I had some juice and a snack and enjoyed watching the world go by for a bit. Then we went to the park for a wander-around. Turns out this is something we have in common - we both love the sunshine.
I guess it sounds like a strange thing to get excited about. "It was my day off. The weather was nice. I went into town, looked in some shops, bought a couple of things, had something to eat, and then went to the park."
But the really exciting parts, you see, are things like:
- I'm having a bit of trouble with my condition at the moment and usually that would prevent me from attempting to go out unless absolutely necessary, but today it didn't have to.
- Usually at the park I'm feeling grateful and indebted to whoever is pushing me and feel bashful about giving directions (especially when I want to go uphill), but today I didn't have to, I could go wherever I wanted and that was very empowering. Of course I've done that on the scooter, but,
- When I started to feel very unwell and crumpled up, I didn't have to try and find my way back to anywhere, or fend off any concerned passersby, or use up reserve spoons I don't have trying to cope, as someone was there to keep me safe and help me medicate and generally take charge of the situation.
- Once I'd got home and rested, I woke up feeling my version of "normal", rather than having arms and legs screaming from the effort and wondering why I did this to myself just for an amble about. I should still feel alright tomorrow - I haven't overexerted myself for the sake of a watch battery and a cheese and ham panini.
Next week I think I might see about going swimming. I fear that part of me is going to run into trouble thinking of Things To Do, now that I have someone available to help me do them. Suggestions would be very, very welcome.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Nobody knows what's going on...
Being one who cannot walk or drive or use public transport, I sometimes make use of the local Community Taxi scheme. This is administered on behalf of the local council by a local football club whose premises are also used for all sorts of "community ventures". A journey by community taxi isn't as cheap as a bus, is only available during daytime hours, and you have to book a couple of days in advance, BUT it's door-to-door, it's guaranteed accessible and it's about half the price of a normal taxi, so swings and roundabouts. Generally, for unplanned things I need to use a normal taxi, but for planned things like say a dental appointment I use the community taxi. So far so good.
In February I got a letter from the football club telling me that the Service Level Agreement with the local council would expire at the end of March and that the council had decided it would not be renewed. The letter told me that the council would instead be issuing "taxi tokens" for people who could not make use of a bus pass.
Today is March 16th so there are 15 days left until the change from community taxi to taxi tokens. I still hadn't heard anything from the council, but we know that some of our post is *cough* going missing *cough* so I thought I'd phone the council to make sure I hadn't missed the letter and ask things like "what are taxi tokens?" and "when can I have some?"
The chap on the phone said they don't know what's happening yet. He said they were hoping a decision would be made within the next two weeks and that then people using the community taxi scheme would be written to and informed of what was going to happen. I don't know how long it will then take to physically distribute these "tokens" or where/how they might be redeemable.
So basically, having tossed the old system, which wasn't perfect but helped a lot of people, they hope they'll have decided what new system they want to use before the old system expires.
All of this makes me even happier to be able to report that it shouldn't bother me too much, because I now have a PA to take me places. She starts this week. A big round of applause for P at the Rowan Organisation who has very competently and patiently guided me through the entire process of getting Direct Payments and becoming an employer and hiring a PA, from advertising to insurance to contracts and everything else that goes with it. It's an awful lot to try and understand, especially with my brainfog on, but P has always been able to answer my questions and explain things clearly, thoroughly, and (this is important) without making me feel like a moron.
Regrettably the local council's SLA with the Rowan is also expiring at the end of March, so I'm losing the marvellously competent, efficient and trustworthy P, and in much the same way as no one can tell me about these taxi tokens, I still don't know who I'm getting transferred to instead to steer me through my first months as an employer.
I fear April may be Interesting.
In February I got a letter from the football club telling me that the Service Level Agreement with the local council would expire at the end of March and that the council had decided it would not be renewed. The letter told me that the council would instead be issuing "taxi tokens" for people who could not make use of a bus pass.
Today is March 16th so there are 15 days left until the change from community taxi to taxi tokens. I still hadn't heard anything from the council, but we know that some of our post is *cough* going missing *cough* so I thought I'd phone the council to make sure I hadn't missed the letter and ask things like "what are taxi tokens?" and "when can I have some?"
The chap on the phone said they don't know what's happening yet. He said they were hoping a decision would be made within the next two weeks and that then people using the community taxi scheme would be written to and informed of what was going to happen. I don't know how long it will then take to physically distribute these "tokens" or where/how they might be redeemable.
So basically, having tossed the old system, which wasn't perfect but helped a lot of people, they hope they'll have decided what new system they want to use before the old system expires.
All of this makes me even happier to be able to report that it shouldn't bother me too much, because I now have a PA to take me places. She starts this week. A big round of applause for P at the Rowan Organisation who has very competently and patiently guided me through the entire process of getting Direct Payments and becoming an employer and hiring a PA, from advertising to insurance to contracts and everything else that goes with it. It's an awful lot to try and understand, especially with my brainfog on, but P has always been able to answer my questions and explain things clearly, thoroughly, and (this is important) without making me feel like a moron.
Regrettably the local council's SLA with the Rowan is also expiring at the end of March, so I'm losing the marvellously competent, efficient and trustworthy P, and in much the same way as no one can tell me about these taxi tokens, I still don't know who I'm getting transferred to instead to steer me through my first months as an employer.
I fear April may be Interesting.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
Knitting - G1 cosy
I've recently upgraded my phone to a G1, and one thing about the G1, there aren't a lot of cases available. It comes with a plain black neoprene sleeve to protect it from knocks, but I wanted something a bit more personal, so I made this. It makes use of deliberate mistakes and was inspired by Kate Haxell's "sheryl" bag in issue 14 of Let's Knit! (Jan 2009). I made it with DK yarn leftovers that I happened to have handy, but I'm considering making another one with purpose-bought yarns, maybe in more summery colours.
MATERIALS
Just under two 1/2 skeins (60 yds each) of dk yarn in contrasting colours. I used Rowan RYC Extra Fine Merino DK in red (Yarn A) and Rowan Pure Wool DK in indigo (Yarn B). Any DK yarn should be fine.
4mm needles (or size needed to get gauge)
3.5mm needles (or a size or two smaller than previous needles)
Cable needle
Tapestry needle for sewing up
This phone cosy is knit as a single strip of fabric, folded once, and sewn up the long sides. It is supposed to be in addition to the functional-but-boring case provided. It has one decorative side, and one tighter-knit and plainer side, to protect the screen of the G1 if you aren't using the original case.
Using larger needles and Yarn A, cast on 22sts.
Row 1: (k1, p1) to end. Repeat for a further 9 rows (moss stitch).
Starting with a k row, work 6 rows st st.
Row 17: k7, c6f (put 3 sts on the cable needle and hold at front of work, k the next 3 sts, then k the 3 sts from the cable needle), k to end.
Row 18: p
Row 19: k9, m1, k to end.
Starting with a p row, work 5 rows st st.
Row 25: k15, p1, k1, p1, k to end.
Row 26: p3, k1, p1, k1, p1, k1, p to end.
Repeat these two rows twice more.
Row 31: k3, switch to Yarn B (YB) k3, switch to Yarn A (YA), k to end.
Row 32: p16, YB, p3, YA, p3.
Repeat these two rows once.
Row 35: k3, YB, k3, YA, k3, drop stitch (DON'T PANIC! This is the m1 stitch from row 19 and so will only unravel back that far), knit the next stitch tightly, k to end.
Row 36: p15, YB, p3, YA, p to end.
Row 37: k3, YB, k3, YA, k to end.
Repeat these two rows once.
Row 40: p15, YB, p3, YA, p to end carrying YB behind work to end of row.
Row 41 (YB) purl. This forms the fold line for the bottom edge of the case.
Row 42: purl, and switch to smaller needles.
Row 43 (and all odd rows): k3, YA, k3, YB, k to end.
Row 44 (and all even rows): p15, YA, p3, YB, p to end.
Repeat these two rows until the second half of the case is the same length as the first, not including the moss stitch section. For me, with these yarns, this took me to row 76. Carry Yarn A to the end of the final row.
Row 77: YA, change to larger needles, knit to end.
Row 78: (k1, p1) to end. Repeat for a further 9 rows (moss stitch).
Row 88: Cast off.
Making up: fold the fabric at the fold line and sew the two long edges using mattress stitch. Sew in ends. Make sure the dropped stitch has laddered properly, back to the cable. Tie a little of yarn B around the cable, or any other adornments you want.
MATERIALS
Just under two 1/2 skeins (60 yds each) of dk yarn in contrasting colours. I used Rowan RYC Extra Fine Merino DK in red (Yarn A) and Rowan Pure Wool DK in indigo (Yarn B). Any DK yarn should be fine.
4mm needles (or size needed to get gauge)
3.5mm needles (or a size or two smaller than previous needles)
Cable needle
Tapestry needle for sewing up
This phone cosy is knit as a single strip of fabric, folded once, and sewn up the long sides. It is supposed to be in addition to the functional-but-boring case provided. It has one decorative side, and one tighter-knit and plainer side, to protect the screen of the G1 if you aren't using the original case.
Using larger needles and Yarn A, cast on 22sts.
Row 1: (k1, p1) to end. Repeat for a further 9 rows (moss stitch).
Starting with a k row, work 6 rows st st.
Row 17: k7, c6f (put 3 sts on the cable needle and hold at front of work, k the next 3 sts, then k the 3 sts from the cable needle), k to end.
Row 18: p
Row 19: k9, m1, k to end.
Starting with a p row, work 5 rows st st.
Row 25: k15, p1, k1, p1, k to end.
Row 26: p3, k1, p1, k1, p1, k1, p to end.
Repeat these two rows twice more.
Row 31: k3, switch to Yarn B (YB) k3, switch to Yarn A (YA), k to end.
Row 32: p16, YB, p3, YA, p3.
Repeat these two rows once.
Row 35: k3, YB, k3, YA, k3, drop stitch (DON'T PANIC! This is the m1 stitch from row 19 and so will only unravel back that far), knit the next stitch tightly, k to end.
Row 36: p15, YB, p3, YA, p to end.
Row 37: k3, YB, k3, YA, k to end.
Repeat these two rows once.
Row 40: p15, YB, p3, YA, p to end carrying YB behind work to end of row.
Row 41 (YB) purl. This forms the fold line for the bottom edge of the case.
Row 42: purl, and switch to smaller needles.
Row 43 (and all odd rows): k3, YA, k3, YB, k to end.
Row 44 (and all even rows): p15, YA, p3, YB, p to end.
Repeat these two rows until the second half of the case is the same length as the first, not including the moss stitch section. For me, with these yarns, this took me to row 76. Carry Yarn A to the end of the final row.
Row 77: YA, change to larger needles, knit to end.
Row 78: (k1, p1) to end. Repeat for a further 9 rows (moss stitch).
Row 88: Cast off.
Making up: fold the fabric at the fold line and sew the two long edges using mattress stitch. Sew in ends. Make sure the dropped stitch has laddered properly, back to the cable. Tie a little of yarn B around the cable, or any other adornments you want.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Two Ticks
At this time of economic gloom and woe, I am almost embarrassed to report I have landed another job interview.
I am confident that I deserve this interview as I wrote (well, typed, thanks to the accessible glory that is an online application) next to every disability-linked question and every 'if you are shortlisted for interview'-linked question that I was NOT requesting an interview under the Two Ticks scheme* and did NOT want to be shortlisted on the basis of my disability.
My only concern is taking the time off from my existing job to attend the interview, as it's on a day when we tend to be both busy and understaffed at the best of times. I'll have a word with my manager today. I suspect I'll end up stashing jeans and trainers at work the day before, so that I can go in straight from interview and change out of my suit there.
I realise this is really quite a smug position to be in.
*The Two Ticks Scheme
This is a scheme that quite a few large employers sign up to, recognisable by a symbol of two ticks encircled by the tagline "positive about disabled people". The part of it that is relevant here is a pledge that if a disabled candidate has shown on their application that they meet the minimum stated requirements for a job, that candidate gets an automatic interview. This helps, because a lot of disabled people wouldn't make the first cut due to things like:
- one or more long periods of unemployment
- previous employment mostly in an entirely different field
- an unusual pattern of education
- employer prejudices
... the idea being that once a person is in an interview setting, they can better explain and show how they are the right person for the job, how their nonstandard CV is proof of their ability to adapt to situations and overcome obstacles, how they are pleasant and competent individuals who will be an asset rather than a burden to the existing team, and so on. Or indeed not, as the case may be. Either way, the person gets interview practice, hopefully some interview feedback so that they have an idea where they should improve things, and a greater chance of getting a job when their CV might otherwise have gone straight into the bin.
Which is all great, but there's a flipside. Going to an interview takes up time, energy, and money, three things that your average disabled job applicant is not rolling in. You have to get your suit cleaned and your shirt ironed, you have to research the company, practise some answers for likely questions, arrange for a lift or pay for the taxis there and back, you have to deal with spending the 24 hours beforehand feeling utterly queasy with nerves.
If you already work, then it's even worse. You have to have that uncomfortable little discussion with your boss that (s)he might be about to get asked for a reference. You have to worry about whether the knowledge that you applied for another job is going to adversely affect you when it comes to managerial decisions about promotions or redundancies or pay cuts. You have to book time off work, and if that's not possible and the interviewers can't offer a different day, you have to start weighing up abandoning the interview vs throwing a sickie...
All of which might very well be worth it, if there's a genuine chance of getting a decent job at the end of it.
Unfortunately for a Two Ticks candidate, a job will (and must, and should) always go to the person most competent to do that job. If you meet the minimum criteria and turn up for a Two Ticks interview, and five other people (disabled or otherwise) are being interviewed who meet and exceed the maximum criteria, well, you're never going to get that job.
Also unfortunately, nepotism is alive and well and probably always will be. I have seen a couple of jobs where the position was publicly advertised (because it's a requirement of the company policy), the disabled candidates were interviewed (because it's a requirement of the Two Ticks scheme), and then everybody had to try and not look surprised when the position went to, at best, an internal candidate, and at worst, the repugnant offspring of the managing director.
In such situations, the Two Ticks candidate has NO chance of getting the job. All (s)he gets is a lot of expense and hassle and a smidgen of interview experience. Which is fine if interview experience is what you want... but personally, I'd rather only attend interviews where I know I have a reasonable chance of being the one who gets the job.
Edited for grammar 22:27 12/02/09
I am confident that I deserve this interview as I wrote (well, typed, thanks to the accessible glory that is an online application) next to every disability-linked question and every 'if you are shortlisted for interview'-linked question that I was NOT requesting an interview under the Two Ticks scheme* and did NOT want to be shortlisted on the basis of my disability.
My only concern is taking the time off from my existing job to attend the interview, as it's on a day when we tend to be both busy and understaffed at the best of times. I'll have a word with my manager today. I suspect I'll end up stashing jeans and trainers at work the day before, so that I can go in straight from interview and change out of my suit there.
I realise this is really quite a smug position to be in.
*The Two Ticks Scheme
This is a scheme that quite a few large employers sign up to, recognisable by a symbol of two ticks encircled by the tagline "positive about disabled people". The part of it that is relevant here is a pledge that if a disabled candidate has shown on their application that they meet the minimum stated requirements for a job, that candidate gets an automatic interview. This helps, because a lot of disabled people wouldn't make the first cut due to things like:
- one or more long periods of unemployment
- previous employment mostly in an entirely different field
- an unusual pattern of education
- employer prejudices
... the idea being that once a person is in an interview setting, they can better explain and show how they are the right person for the job, how their nonstandard CV is proof of their ability to adapt to situations and overcome obstacles, how they are pleasant and competent individuals who will be an asset rather than a burden to the existing team, and so on. Or indeed not, as the case may be. Either way, the person gets interview practice, hopefully some interview feedback so that they have an idea where they should improve things, and a greater chance of getting a job when their CV might otherwise have gone straight into the bin.
Which is all great, but there's a flipside. Going to an interview takes up time, energy, and money, three things that your average disabled job applicant is not rolling in. You have to get your suit cleaned and your shirt ironed, you have to research the company, practise some answers for likely questions, arrange for a lift or pay for the taxis there and back, you have to deal with spending the 24 hours beforehand feeling utterly queasy with nerves.
If you already work, then it's even worse. You have to have that uncomfortable little discussion with your boss that (s)he might be about to get asked for a reference. You have to worry about whether the knowledge that you applied for another job is going to adversely affect you when it comes to managerial decisions about promotions or redundancies or pay cuts. You have to book time off work, and if that's not possible and the interviewers can't offer a different day, you have to start weighing up abandoning the interview vs throwing a sickie...
All of which might very well be worth it, if there's a genuine chance of getting a decent job at the end of it.
Unfortunately for a Two Ticks candidate, a job will (and must, and should) always go to the person most competent to do that job. If you meet the minimum criteria and turn up for a Two Ticks interview, and five other people (disabled or otherwise) are being interviewed who meet and exceed the maximum criteria, well, you're never going to get that job.
Also unfortunately, nepotism is alive and well and probably always will be. I have seen a couple of jobs where the position was publicly advertised (because it's a requirement of the company policy), the disabled candidates were interviewed (because it's a requirement of the Two Ticks scheme), and then everybody had to try and not look surprised when the position went to, at best, an internal candidate, and at worst, the repugnant offspring of the managing director.
In such situations, the Two Ticks candidate has NO chance of getting the job. All (s)he gets is a lot of expense and hassle and a smidgen of interview experience. Which is fine if interview experience is what you want... but personally, I'd rather only attend interviews where I know I have a reasonable chance of being the one who gets the job.
Edited for grammar 22:27 12/02/09
Monday, February 02, 2009
On being a bear with a sore head
"And the angel clothéd all in white opened the Iron Book, and a fifth rider appeared in a chariot of burning ice, and there was a snapping of laws and a breaking of bonds and the multitude cried "Oh God, we're in trouble now!"
Book Of Om, Prophecies of Tobrun: Chapter 2, verse 7.
From the first edition (since rescinded).*
Oh yes, I am not the bunny who is happy today. I've grouched in the morning and I've grouched in the evening and I daresay I'll grouch at suppertime too for good measure. I am grouchy to the left and grouchy to the right and grouchy everywhere in between. Fear my grouchiness.
The reason for the Grouch is the Pain and the reason for the Pain is the Cold and the Snow. I don't do well with cold and snow. Every muscle is tightened, every joint is throbbing with white-hot pain. Dealing with the pain makes me exhausted and being exhausted makes it more difficult to deal with the pain. Always and in everything this sodding pain as a consistent acid-laced thread and I have had ENOUGH.
During the course of today I have had far too many immediate and disproportionate mental responses to the tiniest of transgressions. Generally it has involved a fervent wish for something extremely uncomfortable to be shoved in a distinctly unpleasant orifice belonging to whichever unfortunate mortal has been foolish enough to cross my path.
I think any minute now I may cross that line between 'being a bit prickly' and 'being a bit of a prick'. So I'm typing up this blogpost to try and avoid doing that in public or to someone who doesn't deserve it.
Thank you for your patience.
* as detailed in Thief of Time by Terry Pratchett.
Book Of Om, Prophecies of Tobrun: Chapter 2, verse 7.
From the first edition (since rescinded).*
Oh yes, I am not the bunny who is happy today. I've grouched in the morning and I've grouched in the evening and I daresay I'll grouch at suppertime too for good measure. I am grouchy to the left and grouchy to the right and grouchy everywhere in between. Fear my grouchiness.
The reason for the Grouch is the Pain and the reason for the Pain is the Cold and the Snow. I don't do well with cold and snow. Every muscle is tightened, every joint is throbbing with white-hot pain. Dealing with the pain makes me exhausted and being exhausted makes it more difficult to deal with the pain. Always and in everything this sodding pain as a consistent acid-laced thread and I have had ENOUGH.
During the course of today I have had far too many immediate and disproportionate mental responses to the tiniest of transgressions. Generally it has involved a fervent wish for something extremely uncomfortable to be shoved in a distinctly unpleasant orifice belonging to whichever unfortunate mortal has been foolish enough to cross my path.
I think any minute now I may cross that line between 'being a bit prickly' and 'being a bit of a prick'. So I'm typing up this blogpost to try and avoid doing that in public or to someone who doesn't deserve it.
Thank you for your patience.
* as detailed in Thief of Time by Terry Pratchett.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
If I was a writer, I would say I have writer's block.
I'm not sure what the blogger's equivalent might be. Suggestions in the comments. I have all sorts of ideas and then I open up notepad and all I can manage is one or two horrifically-formed sentences which I would be embarrassed to put my name to. To which I would be embarrassed to put my name. You see? So I'm afraid for now we'll just have to settle for this rambling hotch-potch of miscellaneous Thoughts.
My cold got better, I managed with just one day off work when it was at its worst and there was a fever to go with it which I think is fair enough.
Steve and I have done lots of Interesting Stuff and I have gone "ooh, I will enjoy blogging about this" and then tried to write a post and not got anywhere. So for now you'll just have to have the bare bones and add your own detail:
National Sea Life Centre, Birmingham.
Steve and I went with one of Steve's friends. They took lots of photos, you can see Steve's photos here. It was both soothing and interesting watching the various inhabitants of the tanks swimming about. The HUGE turtle was especially serene, and much more graceful than you would expect of something weighing more than two adult men. Accessibility was great, it's a step-free environment and I only saw one staircase, for which there was a small lift equivalent within a few metres. However wheelies should be aware it's a lot of slopes - the building has a surprisingly small 'footprint' but is multi-storey - so pushing assistance is recommended.
The Roald Dahl Museum and Story Centre.
As a lifelong Roald Dahl fan, I have wanted to go to this since it first opened. Encouragingly, Steve and I spotted it in the Rough Guide to Accessible Britain so off we went. It was everything we hoped for. The Archive has all sorts of original material, from first drafts of books to letters from his publisher, from the telegrams sent to his parents to congratulate them on the birth of their son, to the regular letters home that he wrote throughout his life. The museum has some of these items on display in museum cases, with the items changed every three months to preserve them from light damage. That's quite exciting for a fan, to see the actual items themselves. But the heart of the museum is its child-friendliness and hands-on-ness. One particularly thrilling piece was the reconstruction of his writing-shed, complete with a filing cabinet of which one drawer was open - and in the drawer were letters from the publisher and annotated drafts and whatnot, looking for all the world like the real thing (they are printouts of the scans of the originals).
I can't be positive enough about the museum, and it's not just the fan in me talking. Look at the website. The accessibility isn't a joke, either - not only can a wheelchair get everywhere easily, but there are also plenty of seats, carers/PAs can get in free, and other adjustments (such as audio transcripts) are available. The only, only hitch is that due to the historic nature of Great Missenden High Street, there's no immediately nearby parking facilities - it's several minutes' walk, which could cause difficulty for wobbly walkers.
Add in a sprinkling of bowling, knitting, meals with friends, a visit to the park, and some shopping, and I haven't been bored. I just haven't been blogging, is all.
The job advert for my PA was in the paper last week, and there's just under three weeks for all the many millions of hopeful candidates to get their applications submitted. Finding the right person is going to be a delicate balancing act. For instance:
- I must get on well enough with them to be able to trust them with my safety and relax in their company. However at the same time, they're not being paid to be my friend, and the relationship must stay on a professional footing.
- They must be able to accept that I'm the one in charge who decides what we are doing and when and how we are doing it just like any other employer/employee dynamic. However they have to be confident enough to take control of a situation when I'm suddenly slumped up and barely conscious.
You see what I mean? And how does one find out this sort of thing in an interview? I think I may have done better to advertise for "henchman required, to enable disabled evil genius to take over the world. Experience with lasers an advantage," at least then I'd know I was getting the right sort of people applying for the job.
Suggestions for posts welcome, anything to get me writing properly again.
My cold got better, I managed with just one day off work when it was at its worst and there was a fever to go with it which I think is fair enough.
Steve and I have done lots of Interesting Stuff and I have gone "ooh, I will enjoy blogging about this" and then tried to write a post and not got anywhere. So for now you'll just have to have the bare bones and add your own detail:
National Sea Life Centre, Birmingham.
Steve and I went with one of Steve's friends. They took lots of photos, you can see Steve's photos here. It was both soothing and interesting watching the various inhabitants of the tanks swimming about. The HUGE turtle was especially serene, and much more graceful than you would expect of something weighing more than two adult men. Accessibility was great, it's a step-free environment and I only saw one staircase, for which there was a small lift equivalent within a few metres. However wheelies should be aware it's a lot of slopes - the building has a surprisingly small 'footprint' but is multi-storey - so pushing assistance is recommended.
The Roald Dahl Museum and Story Centre.
As a lifelong Roald Dahl fan, I have wanted to go to this since it first opened. Encouragingly, Steve and I spotted it in the Rough Guide to Accessible Britain so off we went. It was everything we hoped for. The Archive has all sorts of original material, from first drafts of books to letters from his publisher, from the telegrams sent to his parents to congratulate them on the birth of their son, to the regular letters home that he wrote throughout his life. The museum has some of these items on display in museum cases, with the items changed every three months to preserve them from light damage. That's quite exciting for a fan, to see the actual items themselves. But the heart of the museum is its child-friendliness and hands-on-ness. One particularly thrilling piece was the reconstruction of his writing-shed, complete with a filing cabinet of which one drawer was open - and in the drawer were letters from the publisher and annotated drafts and whatnot, looking for all the world like the real thing (they are printouts of the scans of the originals).
I can't be positive enough about the museum, and it's not just the fan in me talking. Look at the website. The accessibility isn't a joke, either - not only can a wheelchair get everywhere easily, but there are also plenty of seats, carers/PAs can get in free, and other adjustments (such as audio transcripts) are available. The only, only hitch is that due to the historic nature of Great Missenden High Street, there's no immediately nearby parking facilities - it's several minutes' walk, which could cause difficulty for wobbly walkers.
Add in a sprinkling of bowling, knitting, meals with friends, a visit to the park, and some shopping, and I haven't been bored. I just haven't been blogging, is all.
The job advert for my PA was in the paper last week, and there's just under three weeks for all the many millions of hopeful candidates to get their applications submitted. Finding the right person is going to be a delicate balancing act. For instance:
- I must get on well enough with them to be able to trust them with my safety and relax in their company. However at the same time, they're not being paid to be my friend, and the relationship must stay on a professional footing.
- They must be able to accept that I'm the one in charge who decides what we are doing and when and how we are doing it just like any other employer/employee dynamic. However they have to be confident enough to take control of a situation when I'm suddenly slumped up and barely conscious.
You see what I mean? And how does one find out this sort of thing in an interview? I think I may have done better to advertise for "henchman required, to enable disabled evil genius to take over the world. Experience with lasers an advantage," at least then I'd know I was getting the right sort of people applying for the job.
Suggestions for posts welcome, anything to get me writing properly again.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Eek!
The job advert for my Social Care Personal Assistant (PA) has been confirmed to run in a local paper next week, as well as to be put up at the local Jobcentre and the nearest university. The closing date for applications will be three weeks after that, and provisionally I will hold interviews two weeks after that.
So hopefully, in the next month or so, I will have some help to Do Things other than work, to the tune of three hours a week. "Things" essentially means anything out of the house that I can't do by myself, so some of it will be leisure activities (like going swimming or shopping) and some of it will have to be essential nonwork activities (like going to the CAB or hospital appointments).
It's going to be a great relief to be able to get help with these things rather than having to either depend on the goodwill of friends, or weigh up an activity against whether Steve could be allowed to take time off work and whether we could afford for him to do so (as a contractor, Steve is only paid for hours worked, with no rights for sick days, holidays, care duties, etc).
The learning curve for How To Be An Employer is astounding, and this despite the fact that I am having my hand held all the way through by the Rowan Organisation. I suspect I'm not making it any easier for myself by trying to be the kind of employer I would want to be employed by, while bearing in mind it is a job that I do not have the physical capacity to do.
The other bit which does my head in is that the going rate for a PA is £7.70 an hour plus mileage and expenses. This is substantially more than I earn, so basically we're saying that my assistant's time is worth more than mine is. That stings a little.
Still, it's not my money, unless I want assistance for more than three hours a week. If I'm lucky I'll manage to find someone really good, who is willing to go beyond just pushing the wheelchair where I ask her to, and actually help me develop my life a bit and come up with some fun things to do. In return they get what's really one of the less arduous ways to earn £20, not to mention the opportunity to participate in various leisure activities without having to pay any entry fees. It's a great job for the right person.
My next task is to try and think of about a dozen questions for interview. Some are no-brainers, like "tell me more about what you're currently doing," or "why do you want this job?" and then there's good old-fashioned trick questions like "so what are you doing with the rest of your day?" but beyond that I've no idea. Is it too optimistic to shove in one about the social and medical models of disability? As ever, all help gratefully received.
So hopefully, in the next month or so, I will have some help to Do Things other than work, to the tune of three hours a week. "Things" essentially means anything out of the house that I can't do by myself, so some of it will be leisure activities (like going swimming or shopping) and some of it will have to be essential nonwork activities (like going to the CAB or hospital appointments).
It's going to be a great relief to be able to get help with these things rather than having to either depend on the goodwill of friends, or weigh up an activity against whether Steve could be allowed to take time off work and whether we could afford for him to do so (as a contractor, Steve is only paid for hours worked, with no rights for sick days, holidays, care duties, etc).
The learning curve for How To Be An Employer is astounding, and this despite the fact that I am having my hand held all the way through by the Rowan Organisation. I suspect I'm not making it any easier for myself by trying to be the kind of employer I would want to be employed by, while bearing in mind it is a job that I do not have the physical capacity to do.
The other bit which does my head in is that the going rate for a PA is £7.70 an hour plus mileage and expenses. This is substantially more than I earn, so basically we're saying that my assistant's time is worth more than mine is. That stings a little.
Still, it's not my money, unless I want assistance for more than three hours a week. If I'm lucky I'll manage to find someone really good, who is willing to go beyond just pushing the wheelchair where I ask her to, and actually help me develop my life a bit and come up with some fun things to do. In return they get what's really one of the less arduous ways to earn £20, not to mention the opportunity to participate in various leisure activities without having to pay any entry fees. It's a great job for the right person.
My next task is to try and think of about a dozen questions for interview. Some are no-brainers, like "tell me more about what you're currently doing," or "why do you want this job?" and then there's good old-fashioned trick questions like "so what are you doing with the rest of your day?" but beyond that I've no idea. Is it too optimistic to shove in one about the social and medical models of disability? As ever, all help gratefully received.
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
99 Things
I don't usually do memes but this one from Carie looked interesting.
If you join in, please leave a comment so that I can read yours.
Things you've already done: bold
Things you want to do: italicize
Things you haven't done and don't want to - leave in plain font
1. Started your own blog. You cannot imagine how hard it was to resist leaving this one in plain font.
2. Slept under the stars. Although not for an entire night.
3. Played in a band. If you count school orchestra. If you don't, then I haven't and do not want to.
4. Visited Hawaii.
5. Watched a meteor shower.
6. Given more than you can afford to charity. That would be daft. Plus, since cripdom I've become unsure about charities. It seems that they end up doing an awful lot of things that really, our taxes are supposed to cover one way or another. It's not a tragedy that little Bobby aged seven and three-eighths will need to use a wheelchair for the rest of his life, but it's a goddamn disgrace that neither the NHS nor social services will provide a suitable one and he and his family are forced to beg for pity from strangers...
7. Been to Disneyland/world.
8. Climbed a mountain. No, I have quite enough adventure and struggle getting around Sainsburys. You guys climb the mountain and I will stay at the ski lodge making sure the hot chocolate is up to standard.
9. Held a praying mantis. Not a lifelong dream, but I'm not squeamish and will touch/hold anything that is offered (oi, stop sniggering at the back).
10. Sang a solo. You don't want to hear me sing.
11. Bungee jumped. Again, not a lifelong dream, but give me half a chance and a change of underwear and I will be totally up for it.
12. Visited Paris. One day I will actually get my passport sorted out.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea. Although from the mainland - not while on a boat.
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch.
15. Adopted a child. Although if, when we get to that stage, it turns out Steve and I can't conceive, I would certainly consider it.
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty. Not likely, see No 8.
18. Grown your own vegetables. Mandy started it and I put it in a sack of compost and it grew and bore fruit. It counts.
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France. I'll be happy to look at it and say "ooh" if I happen to be there, but I'm not likely to go out of my way to see it.
20. Slept on an overnight train.
21. Had a pillow fight.
22. Hitch hiked.
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.
24. Built a snow fort.
25. Held a lamb.
26. Gone skinny dipping.
27. Run a marathon. Not likely. See No 8.
28. Ridden a gondola in Venice. Wouldn't say no, but not desperate.
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset. Many times - living by the sea has pluspoints.
31. Hit a home run. But only on WiiSports.
32. Been on a cruise. I want want want to do this. A couple of weeks in a self-contained environment headed for somewhere with nice weather, with all needful things close at hand (rather than having to arrange lifts or taxi rides), with the time and the facilities to do nothing but unwind, rather than having to go to work and plan epic journeys to Sainsburys and keep on top of the laundry and housework - it's my idea of heaven! Sadly it will never happen as it's Steve's idea of hell. And if I do it without Steve, then as we have seen, I will come home to enough stored-up housework to make the holiday and relaxation a complete waste of time.
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person. See No 19.
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors. See No 19.
35. Seen an Amish community. See No 19.
36. Taught yourself a new language.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied. Satisfaction for me is not having to panic about how to cover the essentials (eg rent, bills, food, medication, transport). Everything else is window-dressing. Enough money to own our own home or go on a big holiday would be nice, but isn't integral to feeling satisfied with life.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person. See No 19.
39. Gone rock climbing. See No 8.
40. Seen Michelangelo's David in person. See No 19.
41. Sung Karaoke. Least said the better.
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt. See No 19.
43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant.
44. Visited Africa.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.
46. Been transported in an ambulance.
47. Had your portrait painted. Cartoonists count, right?
48. Gone deep sea fishing.
49. Seen the Sistine chapel in person. See No 19.
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Is there a lift? If yes, see No 19, if no, see No 8.
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkelling.
52. Kissed in the rain.
53. Played in the mud.
54. Gone to a drive-in theatre. Never even seen one of these.
55. Been in a movie.
56. Visited the Great Wall of China. See No 19.
57. Started a business. Um. Does a school newspaper when I was 12 count? With no teacher involvement beyond getting my English teacher to agree to back me up when asking the head for permission, I raised the capital, I approached the school reprographics unit and negotiated a deal for paper and photocopying, and I organised a "staff" of other students. As a group we wrote the articles and sold it at breaktimes, getting out approximately one issue per half-term, except the time when we devoted the whole front page to reporting on a food fight, when I was called in to see the head and told that since a lot of copies went home and were seen by parents, the school would not allow me to continue with the paper if I distributed that issue. We made a profit even after repaying the capital and paying the running costs and providing prizes for several competitions. At the end of the year we were all leaving the school so we left some 'start-up capital' with the head of English, to give to anyone who was interested in doing a paper again, and split the rest between us - it wasn't a fortune, but it was enough for me to go to Woolies and buy all the stationery and bits and bobs I needed to start high school.
Now I put CDs in boxes, for a few pence per hour over minimum wage.
58. Taken a martial arts class. Aikido, when I was 16/17. It's supposed to be one of those forms which is pure self-defence, more about agility, poise and using your attacker's strength against them, than about competitive fights, big muscles and breaking bits of wood. As such it often gets marketed as very suitable for women. This is probably why I was usually the only female in the group of about 15 students.
59. Visited Russia.
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Scout cookies.
62. Gone whale watching. See No 19.
63. Been given flowers for no reason. Well, for no reason beyond "I went into the supermarket and saw the flowers and thought I'd get you some." I get chocolate for the same reason. Steve is good like that.
64. Donated blood. And in the process, got over my fear of needles. I'm not allowed to donate any more, which is a little bit upsetting although I understand why.
65. Gone sky diving.
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.
67. Bounced a cheque.
68. Flown in a helicopter. Although it's a bit No 19-ish.
69. Saved a favourite childhood toy.
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial. See No 19.
71. Eaten Caviar.
72. Pieced a quilt.
73. Stood in Times Square. See No 19.
74. Toured the Everglades. See No 19.
75. Been fired from a job. Nope - only ever left of my own accord or on health grounds.
76. Seen the Changing of the Guard in London. See No 19.
77. Broken a bone.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle. I ride on the back of Steve's sometimes. We have been on the motorway, so we've done "speeding along" in the sense of "going really quite fast", but I can't see the speedometer from behind him so I have no idea about whether we've been actually speeding as in "going at illegal speeds".
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person. See No 19.
80. Published a book.
81. Visited the Vatican.
82. Bought a brand new car.
83. Walked in Jerusalem.
84. Had your picture in the newspaper. Local paper only. I was a kiddie, it was something to do with the library. The clipping is in with my envelope 'o' childhood Stuff.
85. Read the entire Bible. Although I do follow it on The Brick Testament and I have more of a working knowledge than you might expect - my agnosticism is a considered and informed personal conclusion rather than a frivolous abandonment of my Christian duties.
86. Visited the White House. See No 19.
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating. I reckon I could, and I'd certainly give it a go if I had to - I have no problem with the idea of eating dead animals or handling dead flesh. But I suspect it is be better, not only for me but also for the animals concerned, to leave slaughtering and butchering to people who know what they're doing and have the right tools for the job. I'd be more likely to give the animal a nonfatal wound which would not only make it distressed and fight-y but also make it so slippery with blood that I wouldn't be able to grab hold of it to finish things. Not good for anyone.
88. Had chickenpox. I *think* I was vaccinated.
89. Saved someone’s life. I'm not going to say I want to do this as that would require someone around me to be in a life-threatening situation.
90. Sat on a jury.
91. Met someone famous. If it was someone famous who was actually worth admiring, see No 19.
92. Joined a book club. Keep meaning to do this, in a sort of end-of-a-roll-of-sticky-tape way. But not an online one. I meet lots of people online. I need to meet more people in the real world.
93. Lost a loved one. I have very little experience of death. My great grandmother, my grandfather, and one of my uncles have died within my lifetime - but while I loved them I wasn't exactly in frequent contact with any of them and we didn't speak the same language, and we were discouraged from attempting to make the journey to attend the funerals. I suspect that losing someone very close, with whom you have a frequent or very intimate association, is something very different.
94. Had a baby. If we ever get round to it. My biological clock, which has never really been silent, is clanging that my prime fertile years are all but over. My rational brain is shouting that first we need to find a different, more suitable house (even if we can't buy, renting would be fine) with, for instance, a toilet on each floor and so on. My neurotic brain is shouting that something is bound to go wrong and that if we need any kind of fertility assistance, we'll only get it if we start actively trying to conceive before I'm thirty and that means we've only got three years left. My preferred prospective co-parent agrees with the theory of the two of us having a kid but is reluctant to take steps towards actualisation.
95. Seen the Alamo in person. See No 19.
96. Swum in the Great Salt Lake. See No 19.
97. Been involved in a law suit. I don't have the capacity to deal with something like that on top of my job, housework, life essentials (like showering and grocery shopping) and so on. This is why the DDA has no teeth. It is dependent on disabled people pursuing lawsuits, and many of us do not have the time/energy/physical wherewithal/mental stability to do so.
98. Owned a mobile phone.
99. Been stung by a bee.
Totals:
Things I've already done: 28
Things I want to do: 8
Things I haven't done and don't especially want to do: 63
From which we surmise that I'm an apathetic underachiever who doesn't live in America and doesn't get excited about going to look at things "in person".
To balance things up: got married; got divorced; broke up a fight; danced on a bar; climbed a tree; slept with someone old enough to be your parent; done volunteer work; been written poetry by a lover; partied until the sun came up; ended a violent and abusive relationship; watched every episode of a TV show; swum in the sea; protected a child from violence; been sincerely thanked for making a positive difference to someone's life; got the hang of cooking something your mother used to make; admitted being wrong; persuaded someone in authority to change their mind; built a computer from parts; bought something beautiful even though you know you will probably never use it... there we go, I feel better about my life now.
If you join in, please leave a comment so that I can read yours.
Things you've already done: bold
Things you want to do: italicize
Things you haven't done and don't want to - leave in plain font
1. Started your own blog. You cannot imagine how hard it was to resist leaving this one in plain font.
2. Slept under the stars. Although not for an entire night.
3. Played in a band. If you count school orchestra. If you don't, then I haven't and do not want to.
4. Visited Hawaii.
5. Watched a meteor shower.
6. Given more than you can afford to charity. That would be daft. Plus, since cripdom I've become unsure about charities. It seems that they end up doing an awful lot of things that really, our taxes are supposed to cover one way or another. It's not a tragedy that little Bobby aged seven and three-eighths will need to use a wheelchair for the rest of his life, but it's a goddamn disgrace that neither the NHS nor social services will provide a suitable one and he and his family are forced to beg for pity from strangers...
7. Been to Disneyland/world.
8. Climbed a mountain. No, I have quite enough adventure and struggle getting around Sainsburys. You guys climb the mountain and I will stay at the ski lodge making sure the hot chocolate is up to standard.
9. Held a praying mantis. Not a lifelong dream, but I'm not squeamish and will touch/hold anything that is offered (oi, stop sniggering at the back).
10. Sang a solo. You don't want to hear me sing.
11. Bungee jumped. Again, not a lifelong dream, but give me half a chance and a change of underwear and I will be totally up for it.
12. Visited Paris. One day I will actually get my passport sorted out.
13. Watched a lightning storm at sea. Although from the mainland - not while on a boat.
14. Taught yourself an art from scratch.
15. Adopted a child. Although if, when we get to that stage, it turns out Steve and I can't conceive, I would certainly consider it.
16. Had food poisoning.
17. Walked to the top of the Statue of Liberty. Not likely, see No 8.
18. Grown your own vegetables. Mandy started it and I put it in a sack of compost and it grew and bore fruit. It counts.
19. Seen the Mona Lisa in France. I'll be happy to look at it and say "ooh" if I happen to be there, but I'm not likely to go out of my way to see it.
20. Slept on an overnight train.
21. Had a pillow fight.
22. Hitch hiked.
23. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill.
24. Built a snow fort.
25. Held a lamb.
26. Gone skinny dipping.
27. Run a marathon. Not likely. See No 8.
28. Ridden a gondola in Venice. Wouldn't say no, but not desperate.
29. Seen a total eclipse.
30. Watched a sunrise or sunset. Many times - living by the sea has pluspoints.
31. Hit a home run. But only on WiiSports.
32. Been on a cruise. I want want want to do this. A couple of weeks in a self-contained environment headed for somewhere with nice weather, with all needful things close at hand (rather than having to arrange lifts or taxi rides), with the time and the facilities to do nothing but unwind, rather than having to go to work and plan epic journeys to Sainsburys and keep on top of the laundry and housework - it's my idea of heaven! Sadly it will never happen as it's Steve's idea of hell. And if I do it without Steve, then as we have seen, I will come home to enough stored-up housework to make the holiday and relaxation a complete waste of time.
33. Seen Niagara Falls in person. See No 19.
34. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors. See No 19.
35. Seen an Amish community. See No 19.
36. Taught yourself a new language.
37. Had enough money to be truly satisfied. Satisfaction for me is not having to panic about how to cover the essentials (eg rent, bills, food, medication, transport). Everything else is window-dressing. Enough money to own our own home or go on a big holiday would be nice, but isn't integral to feeling satisfied with life.
38. Seen the Leaning Tower of Pisa in person. See No 19.
39. Gone rock climbing. See No 8.
40. Seen Michelangelo's David in person. See No 19.
41. Sung Karaoke. Least said the better.
42. Seen Old Faithful geyser erupt. See No 19.
43. Bought a stranger a meal in a restaurant.
44. Visited Africa.
45. Walked on a beach by moonlight.
46. Been transported in an ambulance.
47. Had your portrait painted. Cartoonists count, right?
48. Gone deep sea fishing.
49. Seen the Sistine chapel in person. See No 19.
50. Been to the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Is there a lift? If yes, see No 19, if no, see No 8.
51. Gone scuba diving or snorkelling.
52. Kissed in the rain.
53. Played in the mud.
54. Gone to a drive-in theatre. Never even seen one of these.
55. Been in a movie.
56. Visited the Great Wall of China. See No 19.
57. Started a business. Um. Does a school newspaper when I was 12 count? With no teacher involvement beyond getting my English teacher to agree to back me up when asking the head for permission, I raised the capital, I approached the school reprographics unit and negotiated a deal for paper and photocopying, and I organised a "staff" of other students. As a group we wrote the articles and sold it at breaktimes, getting out approximately one issue per half-term, except the time when we devoted the whole front page to reporting on a food fight, when I was called in to see the head and told that since a lot of copies went home and were seen by parents, the school would not allow me to continue with the paper if I distributed that issue. We made a profit even after repaying the capital and paying the running costs and providing prizes for several competitions. At the end of the year we were all leaving the school so we left some 'start-up capital' with the head of English, to give to anyone who was interested in doing a paper again, and split the rest between us - it wasn't a fortune, but it was enough for me to go to Woolies and buy all the stationery and bits and bobs I needed to start high school.
Now I put CDs in boxes, for a few pence per hour over minimum wage.
58. Taken a martial arts class. Aikido, when I was 16/17. It's supposed to be one of those forms which is pure self-defence, more about agility, poise and using your attacker's strength against them, than about competitive fights, big muscles and breaking bits of wood. As such it often gets marketed as very suitable for women. This is probably why I was usually the only female in the group of about 15 students.
59. Visited Russia.
60. Served at a soup kitchen.
61. Sold Girl Scout cookies.
62. Gone whale watching. See No 19.
63. Been given flowers for no reason. Well, for no reason beyond "I went into the supermarket and saw the flowers and thought I'd get you some." I get chocolate for the same reason. Steve is good like that.
64. Donated blood. And in the process, got over my fear of needles. I'm not allowed to donate any more, which is a little bit upsetting although I understand why.
65. Gone sky diving.
66. Visited a Nazi Concentration Camp.
67. Bounced a cheque.
68. Flown in a helicopter. Although it's a bit No 19-ish.
69. Saved a favourite childhood toy.
70. Visited the Lincoln Memorial. See No 19.
71. Eaten Caviar.
72. Pieced a quilt.
73. Stood in Times Square. See No 19.
74. Toured the Everglades. See No 19.
75. Been fired from a job. Nope - only ever left of my own accord or on health grounds.
76. Seen the Changing of the Guard in London. See No 19.
77. Broken a bone.
78. Been on a speeding motorcycle. I ride on the back of Steve's sometimes. We have been on the motorway, so we've done "speeding along" in the sense of "going really quite fast", but I can't see the speedometer from behind him so I have no idea about whether we've been actually speeding as in "going at illegal speeds".
79. Seen the Grand Canyon in person. See No 19.
80. Published a book.
81. Visited the Vatican.
82. Bought a brand new car.
83. Walked in Jerusalem.
84. Had your picture in the newspaper. Local paper only. I was a kiddie, it was something to do with the library. The clipping is in with my envelope 'o' childhood Stuff.
85. Read the entire Bible. Although I do follow it on The Brick Testament and I have more of a working knowledge than you might expect - my agnosticism is a considered and informed personal conclusion rather than a frivolous abandonment of my Christian duties.
86. Visited the White House. See No 19.
87. Killed and prepared an animal for eating. I reckon I could, and I'd certainly give it a go if I had to - I have no problem with the idea of eating dead animals or handling dead flesh. But I suspect it is be better, not only for me but also for the animals concerned, to leave slaughtering and butchering to people who know what they're doing and have the right tools for the job. I'd be more likely to give the animal a nonfatal wound which would not only make it distressed and fight-y but also make it so slippery with blood that I wouldn't be able to grab hold of it to finish things. Not good for anyone.
88. Had chickenpox. I *think* I was vaccinated.
89. Saved someone’s life. I'm not going to say I want to do this as that would require someone around me to be in a life-threatening situation.
90. Sat on a jury.
91. Met someone famous. If it was someone famous who was actually worth admiring, see No 19.
92. Joined a book club. Keep meaning to do this, in a sort of end-of-a-roll-of-sticky-tape way. But not an online one. I meet lots of people online. I need to meet more people in the real world.
93. Lost a loved one. I have very little experience of death. My great grandmother, my grandfather, and one of my uncles have died within my lifetime - but while I loved them I wasn't exactly in frequent contact with any of them and we didn't speak the same language, and we were discouraged from attempting to make the journey to attend the funerals. I suspect that losing someone very close, with whom you have a frequent or very intimate association, is something very different.
94. Had a baby. If we ever get round to it. My biological clock, which has never really been silent, is clanging that my prime fertile years are all but over. My rational brain is shouting that first we need to find a different, more suitable house (even if we can't buy, renting would be fine) with, for instance, a toilet on each floor and so on. My neurotic brain is shouting that something is bound to go wrong and that if we need any kind of fertility assistance, we'll only get it if we start actively trying to conceive before I'm thirty and that means we've only got three years left. My preferred prospective co-parent agrees with the theory of the two of us having a kid but is reluctant to take steps towards actualisation.
95. Seen the Alamo in person. See No 19.
96. Swum in the Great Salt Lake. See No 19.
97. Been involved in a law suit. I don't have the capacity to deal with something like that on top of my job, housework, life essentials (like showering and grocery shopping) and so on. This is why the DDA has no teeth. It is dependent on disabled people pursuing lawsuits, and many of us do not have the time/energy/physical wherewithal/mental stability to do so.
98. Owned a mobile phone.
99. Been stung by a bee.
Totals:
Things I've already done: 28
Things I want to do: 8
Things I haven't done and don't especially want to do: 63
From which we surmise that I'm an apathetic underachiever who doesn't live in America and doesn't get excited about going to look at things "in person".
To balance things up: got married; got divorced; broke up a fight; danced on a bar; climbed a tree; slept with someone old enough to be your parent; done volunteer work; been written poetry by a lover; partied until the sun came up; ended a violent and abusive relationship; watched every episode of a TV show; swum in the sea; protected a child from violence; been sincerely thanked for making a positive difference to someone's life; got the hang of cooking something your mother used to make; admitted being wrong; persuaded someone in authority to change their mind; built a computer from parts; bought something beautiful even though you know you will probably never use it... there we go, I feel better about my life now.
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
*sniff*
...uuurgh. I have Additional Lurgy in the form of a cold.
Happily it's not the rotten sort of headcold that wimps try to insist is "flu". Just a cold that is a cold that is a cold, with a sinus-y headache, a sore throat, and a metric smegload of snot.
*GRONK*
...uuurgh...
So yeah, another job in the paper I'm thinking of going for. It's a receptionist/admin assistant position, 15 hours a week, for a children's charity. BUT, I have to phone the Mr Director for "an informal chat" about the position, and right now on the phone I sound so icky and goopy and contagious that he'd probably want to autoclave the phone after speaking to me, rather than encouraging me to send in a germy application form. So it'll have to wait a couple of days.
In better news, I'm on track to become an employer myself - my Direct Payments are ready to go just as soon as I've advertised for, interviewed and selected a personal assistant. For this I have sought assistance from the Rowan Organisation but if anyone's got any top tippery they care to share, the comments are open as usual.
Happily it's not the rotten sort of headcold that wimps try to insist is "flu". Just a cold that is a cold that is a cold, with a sinus-y headache, a sore throat, and a metric smegload of snot.
*GRONK*
...uuurgh...
So yeah, another job in the paper I'm thinking of going for. It's a receptionist/admin assistant position, 15 hours a week, for a children's charity. BUT, I have to phone the Mr Director for "an informal chat" about the position, and right now on the phone I sound so icky and goopy and contagious that he'd probably want to autoclave the phone after speaking to me, rather than encouraging me to send in a germy application form. So it'll have to wait a couple of days.
In better news, I'm on track to become an employer myself - my Direct Payments are ready to go just as soon as I've advertised for, interviewed and selected a personal assistant. For this I have sought assistance from the Rowan Organisation but if anyone's got any top tippery they care to share, the comments are open as usual.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Not Blown Up After All
... just a bit tired out.
The New Year fireworks were a resounding success, with the only casualty being one of L's gloves which got singed by a lighter. Then Steve and I enjoyed one day to rest, one day back at work, and one day to get the house passably tidy in readiness for my mum to come and stay for a few days.
We got lots of nice Christmas presents from my family, including a shiny and very spiffy set of saucepans. Nice as they are, sadly, these have not been the accessibility revolution Mr Rhodes seems to think. Firstly, as you will see from their lovely little "42" diagram on that page, the recommended angles only work if you have kitchen surfaces at well below waist height. Secondly, if you watch the video, you'll see that to drain from the saucepan, you need to hold on to the knob on top of the lid as you tilt - fine when it's empty, but in a real world situation that means your fingers are right in the path of the concentrated column of steam as you drain the boiling water away. And thirdly, you actually need more strength in your arms to manipulate it than with a standard pan, because there's no way to get a two-handed grip in order to use the handle as a lever to create stability.
So don't buy them to try and make cooking easier. But, that said, they are very nice saucepans, with a lifetime guarantee. Using the variable draining-holes in the rim of the lid to release varying amounts of steam is handy. And they are fully backward-compatible with a regular colander in the normal way. ;-)
Christmas dealt with, it was just about time for my birthday, which was the main reason for mum visiting. I took down my lovely tree and packed it neatly away for next year.
Between all of them, and Christmas and my birthday, my family have bought me just about every book that was on my Amazon Wishlist. I was absolutely bowled over. I always have to read every book at least twice before I can consider it not-new, and I can't read just new books (it's an ME thing) so this should keep me excited about having books of newness for at least three months, if not longer.
It was good having mum about for a few days. We've always talked lots. As a kid, she would tuck me in to bed every night and we'd chat for a few minutes. It was my opportunity to talk, as there was no getting a word in edgeways with my sister about. In sixth form, my Thursday morning free period was designated as our Cream Cake Day. When I lived in my little flat, I would come over to use the washing machine and stay for a cuppa and a bit of a chat about nothing very much at all. When I got sick, we had a cup of tea most days, and it added routine and a strong element of familiarity to a world which had been turned upside down. Since I've moved to Warwickshire, we still email or speak on the phone if we have anything particular to say... but it was nice to once again just sit and enjoy a quiet, non-pressured chatter with each other.
That said, it was also nice when mum had left, to be able to come home from work and fall apart by myself, without feeling that I had to put a sociable face on. I love my mum but we probably shouldn't live together.
The people at work gave me cake and flowers, which made me squee with delight. Steve is getting me a watch, just as soon as we actually have a spare half-hour to go into town together so I can try some on. He's also sort-of got me a combination printer/scanner/photocopier doodah, which will link to our wireless network and allow us to print from anywhere in the house. He says this doesn't count as a birthday present though, since it's for both of us to use and it wasn't wrapped, he just happened to buy it the evening before my birthday. I think it counts though. It was definitely a surprise - he only went out for a pint of milk.
So far being 27 isn't much different from being 26, except it's increased that feeling of being stuck in a rut.
The New Year fireworks were a resounding success, with the only casualty being one of L's gloves which got singed by a lighter. Then Steve and I enjoyed one day to rest, one day back at work, and one day to get the house passably tidy in readiness for my mum to come and stay for a few days.
We got lots of nice Christmas presents from my family, including a shiny and very spiffy set of saucepans. Nice as they are, sadly, these have not been the accessibility revolution Mr Rhodes seems to think. Firstly, as you will see from their lovely little "42" diagram on that page, the recommended angles only work if you have kitchen surfaces at well below waist height. Secondly, if you watch the video, you'll see that to drain from the saucepan, you need to hold on to the knob on top of the lid as you tilt - fine when it's empty, but in a real world situation that means your fingers are right in the path of the concentrated column of steam as you drain the boiling water away. And thirdly, you actually need more strength in your arms to manipulate it than with a standard pan, because there's no way to get a two-handed grip in order to use the handle as a lever to create stability.
So don't buy them to try and make cooking easier. But, that said, they are very nice saucepans, with a lifetime guarantee. Using the variable draining-holes in the rim of the lid to release varying amounts of steam is handy. And they are fully backward-compatible with a regular colander in the normal way. ;-)
Christmas dealt with, it was just about time for my birthday, which was the main reason for mum visiting. I took down my lovely tree and packed it neatly away for next year.
Between all of them, and Christmas and my birthday, my family have bought me just about every book that was on my Amazon Wishlist. I was absolutely bowled over. I always have to read every book at least twice before I can consider it not-new, and I can't read just new books (it's an ME thing) so this should keep me excited about having books of newness for at least three months, if not longer.
It was good having mum about for a few days. We've always talked lots. As a kid, she would tuck me in to bed every night and we'd chat for a few minutes. It was my opportunity to talk, as there was no getting a word in edgeways with my sister about. In sixth form, my Thursday morning free period was designated as our Cream Cake Day. When I lived in my little flat, I would come over to use the washing machine and stay for a cuppa and a bit of a chat about nothing very much at all. When I got sick, we had a cup of tea most days, and it added routine and a strong element of familiarity to a world which had been turned upside down. Since I've moved to Warwickshire, we still email or speak on the phone if we have anything particular to say... but it was nice to once again just sit and enjoy a quiet, non-pressured chatter with each other.
That said, it was also nice when mum had left, to be able to come home from work and fall apart by myself, without feeling that I had to put a sociable face on. I love my mum but we probably shouldn't live together.
The people at work gave me cake and flowers, which made me squee with delight. Steve is getting me a watch, just as soon as we actually have a spare half-hour to go into town together so I can try some on. He's also sort-of got me a combination printer/scanner/photocopier doodah, which will link to our wireless network and allow us to print from anywhere in the house. He says this doesn't count as a birthday present though, since it's for both of us to use and it wasn't wrapped, he just happened to buy it the evening before my birthday. I think it counts though. It was definitely a surprise - he only went out for a pint of milk.
So far being 27 isn't much different from being 26, except it's increased that feeling of being stuck in a rut.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
2008 - A Roundup
I did this last year so I might as well do it this year too. Even though this time I haven't had any major life changes like moving house or getting a new job, it's worth bearing in mind that Steve and I started 2008 with a spirited attempt to blow ourselves up so the entirety of the last 12 months has been something of a bonus. It's also slightly disturbing that my first complete 12 months of post-getting-ill paid employment has been so centred around the benefits system.
January
In contrast to last year, my birthday was a bit of a non-event, consisting of me buying myself some cake to take into work, and Steve getting a card for me while I was out. Over the next few days things improved. Full of positivity about life, I started an attempt at some self-administered Graded Exercise Therapy which lasted all of about two days before Steve begged me to stop it and I felt cruddy enough to acquiesce. The extra pain, faints, weakness and cognitive difficulties from those days lasted almost two weeks.
February
February saw the Department of Work and Pensions Secretary Peter Hain leaving his position after a row over his failure to disclose donations for his failed attempt to become deputy leader of the Labour Party. His defence consisted basically of trying to prove that he was incompetent rather than a fraudster, a defence the DWP refuses to hear from its "customers" but apparently finds acceptable from its management. His replacement, James Purnell, started gleefully outlining "reforms" to the welfare system, based largely on a report from a City banker who had spent three whole weeks studying the system before spouting a lot of inaccurate data largely based on his own personal opinions. I got very upset about this as I was struggling with work and an overwhelming awareness that if I didn't cope, I would have to throw myself on the mercy of the "reformed" system.
I was also struggling with a Tax Credits cockup from several years ago, which makes it even more baffling why I decided to re-apply for Disability Living Allowance.
March
I got my forms finished, mostly by typing it up rather than trying to fit the ins and outs and variations of my day-to-day difficulties into the boxes.
"The total was 48, yes, forty-eight pages. The word-count was 26,019. That's twenty-six thousand and nineteen words. That's more than the entirety of my GCSE English Language and Literature courseworks."
My new GP confirmed that she would be supporting my DLA claim, and several people kindly wrote supporting statements about their direct experience of how my condition affects me. Just as I got the DLA bundle completed and sent off, the Tax Credits people started up again...
April
While the ball rolled on the Tax Credits and DLA issues, I wrote the most popular blogpost I have ever written... The Gorilla Theory. It gets linked to all over the place and people keep telling me how much it has helped them. I'm very proud of it.
Five months after I had alerted them to the issue, the DWP sent me an amusing letter about how they had paid me too much money when I started work (they forgot to stop putting my Incapacity Benefit into my bank account despite me asking nicely) and now they wanted it back. It was amusing because even though the error was entirely theirs, the letter implied that it was my fault and I'd actively claimed the money on purpose and threatened me with the full weight of THE LAW if I did not arrange to repay the money immediately.
May
As is becoming usual, May started with Blogging Against Disablism Day. The hot disability topic was still the welfare reforms but I opted to write some musings about equality and difference:
"Equal does not mean identical for the same reason that different does not mean inferior, or, for that matter, superior."
I started to think about my career direction (or lack thereof) and Steve scared the hell out of me by taking half a dose of paracetamol.
My DLA claim was turned down, but unlike 2007, this time I was ready to fight it to appeal.
June
I finally bit the bullet and admitted that 20 hours over 5 days packing CDs is too much for me, and asked for help from everyone I could think of. The agencies who are supposed to help were the least helpful of all. My boss and I agreed that I would work 17.5 hours over 4 days and have Wednesdays off as a sort of mini-weekend to recover from Monday and Tuesday, and prepare for Thursday and Friday. This has worked incredibly well for me and I haven't needed a sick-day since.
The Tax Credits Appeals and Complaints department reviewed my appeal bundle and agreed that I don't owe them any money. I could claim Tax Credits as a working disabled person and be something like £3k a year better off, but I don't dare.
Remploy offered me £50 to falsify information, and to make it even worse they wouldn't even tell me what that information was - just sent me signature pages of forms.
July
Steve finished his exams and started work again and our financial position eased up almost instantly. He could have claimed benefit when our savings ran out, but having spent a couple of years watching in horrified amazement the merry dances that people like Pip, Bendy Girl and I have to perform not just before and during our genuine and necessary claims, but for months and years afterwards, he decided not unreasonably that he'd have to be starving first.
August
I didn't blog at all in August. There was a lot going on and I didn't have the brain-time to write any of it up. Steve and I went out and about a little bit more with our new-found income, but we also had to adjust to the new balancing act of my care needs and the effects of my job vs him being at work all day and no longer having all the time in the world for looking after me and keeping the household running. Social Services assessed me for help and I was approved for Direct Payments for care, as well as an emergency backup care plan.
I applied and was interviewed for a part-time admin job - didn't get it, but there was lots of positive feedback and it was a good confidence boost. We also went to Jiva and Munkt0n's wedding which was quite possibly the loveliest wedding I have ever attended.
September
With my DLA appeal drawing closer I found myself unable to concentrate properly on anything. Christmas orders started coming in at work and keeping on top of things, while do-able, was taking everything I had.
October
I won my DLA Appeal. It was backdated to the application date in February which meant I was suddenly owed a lump sum in excess of £2,000. I am proud of having introduced the Appeals panel to Spoon Theory.
After some prodding, I also got an official response about the Remploy problems from back in June. It was as pathetic as I have come to expect.
Then it was off to Lowestoft for a week's holiday with Pip and The Boy. This would have been a great idea, and I felt extremely well-rested, except for the bit where I came home to discover that I had to fit in a whole lot of extra housework because while I'd been away Steve had been having one of those weeks.
November
I finally got to go into town to open a bank account in order to receive Direct Payments, to pay for the care Social Services assessed me as needing.
"The whole thing is a bit chicken and egg, really - to get Direct Payments, I have to go into town and set up a bank account, but that's a major excursion for me, so really, I need Direct Payments to pay a PA to go into town with me to set up a bank account so I can get Direct Payments to pay a PA..."
I had another job interview which didn't go so well as it turned out to be for a full-time job, and much as I would like to, there is no way I can do full-time work.
Then my laptop died with a virus of great horribleness. Never before had I picked up a computer virus which my antivirus program couldn't swiftly and efficiently dispatch. We ended up with no real option but a complete fresh reinstall of Windows and then very carefully scanning and replacing files from backups. I know I'm an addict, but I didn't realise it would upset me as much as it did. I will be more careful.
December
Steve and I underwent the ultimate test of the strength of a relationship - we went to IKEA. We survived.
The Welfare Reforms mooted in February came to the fore yet again. The banker's report is being treated as rock-solid fact, and the BBC is somehow combining stories of mass redundancies with the stereotypical image of benefit claimants as scroungers who cannot be bothered. It scares me.
I got my Christmas Tree and decorated it, and with a stack of assorted presents underneath it was the centrepiece of a wonderful Christmas.
And now, I understand from my charming assistant that the fireworks have been purchased and the weather tonight looks to be cold but clear. Hopefully, see you on the other side - Happy New Year!
January
In contrast to last year, my birthday was a bit of a non-event, consisting of me buying myself some cake to take into work, and Steve getting a card for me while I was out. Over the next few days things improved. Full of positivity about life, I started an attempt at some self-administered Graded Exercise Therapy which lasted all of about two days before Steve begged me to stop it and I felt cruddy enough to acquiesce. The extra pain, faints, weakness and cognitive difficulties from those days lasted almost two weeks.
February
February saw the Department of Work and Pensions Secretary Peter Hain leaving his position after a row over his failure to disclose donations for his failed attempt to become deputy leader of the Labour Party. His defence consisted basically of trying to prove that he was incompetent rather than a fraudster, a defence the DWP refuses to hear from its "customers" but apparently finds acceptable from its management. His replacement, James Purnell, started gleefully outlining "reforms" to the welfare system, based largely on a report from a City banker who had spent three whole weeks studying the system before spouting a lot of inaccurate data largely based on his own personal opinions. I got very upset about this as I was struggling with work and an overwhelming awareness that if I didn't cope, I would have to throw myself on the mercy of the "reformed" system.
I was also struggling with a Tax Credits cockup from several years ago, which makes it even more baffling why I decided to re-apply for Disability Living Allowance.
March
I got my forms finished, mostly by typing it up rather than trying to fit the ins and outs and variations of my day-to-day difficulties into the boxes.
"The total was 48, yes, forty-eight pages. The word-count was 26,019. That's twenty-six thousand and nineteen words. That's more than the entirety of my GCSE English Language and Literature courseworks."
My new GP confirmed that she would be supporting my DLA claim, and several people kindly wrote supporting statements about their direct experience of how my condition affects me. Just as I got the DLA bundle completed and sent off, the Tax Credits people started up again...
April
While the ball rolled on the Tax Credits and DLA issues, I wrote the most popular blogpost I have ever written... The Gorilla Theory. It gets linked to all over the place and people keep telling me how much it has helped them. I'm very proud of it.
Five months after I had alerted them to the issue, the DWP sent me an amusing letter about how they had paid me too much money when I started work (they forgot to stop putting my Incapacity Benefit into my bank account despite me asking nicely) and now they wanted it back. It was amusing because even though the error was entirely theirs, the letter implied that it was my fault and I'd actively claimed the money on purpose and threatened me with the full weight of THE LAW if I did not arrange to repay the money immediately.
May
As is becoming usual, May started with Blogging Against Disablism Day. The hot disability topic was still the welfare reforms but I opted to write some musings about equality and difference:
"Equal does not mean identical for the same reason that different does not mean inferior, or, for that matter, superior."
I started to think about my career direction (or lack thereof) and Steve scared the hell out of me by taking half a dose of paracetamol.
My DLA claim was turned down, but unlike 2007, this time I was ready to fight it to appeal.
June
I finally bit the bullet and admitted that 20 hours over 5 days packing CDs is too much for me, and asked for help from everyone I could think of. The agencies who are supposed to help were the least helpful of all. My boss and I agreed that I would work 17.5 hours over 4 days and have Wednesdays off as a sort of mini-weekend to recover from Monday and Tuesday, and prepare for Thursday and Friday. This has worked incredibly well for me and I haven't needed a sick-day since.
The Tax Credits Appeals and Complaints department reviewed my appeal bundle and agreed that I don't owe them any money. I could claim Tax Credits as a working disabled person and be something like £3k a year better off, but I don't dare.
Remploy offered me £50 to falsify information, and to make it even worse they wouldn't even tell me what that information was - just sent me signature pages of forms.
July
Steve finished his exams and started work again and our financial position eased up almost instantly. He could have claimed benefit when our savings ran out, but having spent a couple of years watching in horrified amazement the merry dances that people like Pip, Bendy Girl and I have to perform not just before and during our genuine and necessary claims, but for months and years afterwards, he decided not unreasonably that he'd have to be starving first.
August
I didn't blog at all in August. There was a lot going on and I didn't have the brain-time to write any of it up. Steve and I went out and about a little bit more with our new-found income, but we also had to adjust to the new balancing act of my care needs and the effects of my job vs him being at work all day and no longer having all the time in the world for looking after me and keeping the household running. Social Services assessed me for help and I was approved for Direct Payments for care, as well as an emergency backup care plan.
I applied and was interviewed for a part-time admin job - didn't get it, but there was lots of positive feedback and it was a good confidence boost. We also went to Jiva and Munkt0n's wedding which was quite possibly the loveliest wedding I have ever attended.
September
With my DLA appeal drawing closer I found myself unable to concentrate properly on anything. Christmas orders started coming in at work and keeping on top of things, while do-able, was taking everything I had.
October
I won my DLA Appeal. It was backdated to the application date in February which meant I was suddenly owed a lump sum in excess of £2,000. I am proud of having introduced the Appeals panel to Spoon Theory.
After some prodding, I also got an official response about the Remploy problems from back in June. It was as pathetic as I have come to expect.
Then it was off to Lowestoft for a week's holiday with Pip and The Boy. This would have been a great idea, and I felt extremely well-rested, except for the bit where I came home to discover that I had to fit in a whole lot of extra housework because while I'd been away Steve had been having one of those weeks.
November
I finally got to go into town to open a bank account in order to receive Direct Payments, to pay for the care Social Services assessed me as needing.
"The whole thing is a bit chicken and egg, really - to get Direct Payments, I have to go into town and set up a bank account, but that's a major excursion for me, so really, I need Direct Payments to pay a PA to go into town with me to set up a bank account so I can get Direct Payments to pay a PA..."
I had another job interview which didn't go so well as it turned out to be for a full-time job, and much as I would like to, there is no way I can do full-time work.
Then my laptop died with a virus of great horribleness. Never before had I picked up a computer virus which my antivirus program couldn't swiftly and efficiently dispatch. We ended up with no real option but a complete fresh reinstall of Windows and then very carefully scanning and replacing files from backups. I know I'm an addict, but I didn't realise it would upset me as much as it did. I will be more careful.
December
Steve and I underwent the ultimate test of the strength of a relationship - we went to IKEA. We survived.
The Welfare Reforms mooted in February came to the fore yet again. The banker's report is being treated as rock-solid fact, and the BBC is somehow combining stories of mass redundancies with the stereotypical image of benefit claimants as scroungers who cannot be bothered. It scares me.
I got my Christmas Tree and decorated it, and with a stack of assorted presents underneath it was the centrepiece of a wonderful Christmas.
And now, I understand from my charming assistant that the fireworks have been purchased and the weather tonight looks to be cold but clear. Hopefully, see you on the other side - Happy New Year!
Monday, December 29, 2008
Standard Christmas Post
That was a nice Christmas. Steve and I had four days off work together which hasn't happened since last Christmas, and that was less a holiday than a hectic whirl of visiting people in between nap-breaks in our hotel room, so really, we needed this.
For me it was five days, since Christmas Eve fell on a Wednesday which is my day off anyway. We'd both worked steadily at getting the house sorted out so that we wouldn't have to DO anything much - gold star to Steve who deep-cleaned the entire bathroom including the ceiling - so on Christmas Eve all I really had to do was press the button on the Roomba, which isn't taxing housework by anybody's standards. After dinner a friend came round bearing gifts and a card, and it felt very Christmassy indeed.
Christmas Day started with a glorious lie-in. At about 11am, Steve's mother came round, and then we started on the presents. My highlights were the set of KnitPicks Options interchangeable circular knitting needles, which I knew I was getting, and the iPod nano which I had no idea about. Both of those were from Steve. I think Steve's best present was the 1.5 kilos of jelly beans from one of his friends.
Christmas dinner consisted of sausages, cooked and served by Steve, with some roast potatoes with onion and bacon bits, mixed veggies, and gravy. Many people seem appalled by this, including Steve's workmates and my mother, but our logic was sound:
1) We wanted a meal we would enjoy. Steve knows he cooks sausages to perfection. However neither of us have ever attempted to cook a turkey, and my obvious limitations mean that even a regular roast dinner can be quite an adventure. So we opted for definitely-yummy sausages over a potentially disastrous attempt at Christmas Turkey Dinner With All The Trimmings.
2) We don't get much time off work together. There were better things for us to do with this precious four-day block than spend a day prepping, a day cooking, and two days washing-up.
3) Not to mention two weeks of leftovers.
4) If we happen to fancy a Turkey Dinner With All The Trimmings we can go to a carvery any week of the year and stack more (properly-cooked) grub on our plates than we can eat. We're in a fortunate position where it's not like Christmas dinner represents the one decent meal of the winter.
Plus, of course, by the time my mother phoned and expressed her horror at Sausages For Christmas Dinner, she hadn't even eaten yet, while at our house the dishes were done, the ice-cream was eaten, and Steve's mother was giving us both a run for our money on the Wii. So in the absence of the dedicated chef (mum's husband is not only an excellent cook, but actually enjoys doing it) I think our version was just fine.
I got a nap in while Steve and his mum went for a walk, and then she went home and we settled down for a nice relaxing evening.
Boxing Day was more of the same. A lie-in and a couple of hours pottering about the house playing with presents, followed by a leisurely jaunt into Warwick and a cream tea at a ye olde tea shoppe near the castle. Saturday was a lie-in, bacon sandwiches, and a trip out for some milk which turned into a couple of hours with friends at a slightly remote pub near Cubbington, complete with roaring log fire and dogs in the bar. Sunday's lie-in was followed by a trip to Kenilworth Castle, which was fun. It was also a lot more accessible than I thought it would be, so we'll have to go back in the summer when hopefully I'll be a bit more mobile again, and we can appreciate it without the pressing issue of freezing cold.
So, today is back to work day. Notable absence of lie-ins and weirdness of being in the house by myself all morning.
I don't want to post this, because posting this means my holiday is over... :(
For me it was five days, since Christmas Eve fell on a Wednesday which is my day off anyway. We'd both worked steadily at getting the house sorted out so that we wouldn't have to DO anything much - gold star to Steve who deep-cleaned the entire bathroom including the ceiling - so on Christmas Eve all I really had to do was press the button on the Roomba, which isn't taxing housework by anybody's standards. After dinner a friend came round bearing gifts and a card, and it felt very Christmassy indeed.
Christmas Day started with a glorious lie-in. At about 11am, Steve's mother came round, and then we started on the presents. My highlights were the set of KnitPicks Options interchangeable circular knitting needles, which I knew I was getting, and the iPod nano which I had no idea about. Both of those were from Steve. I think Steve's best present was the 1.5 kilos of jelly beans from one of his friends.
Christmas dinner consisted of sausages, cooked and served by Steve, with some roast potatoes with onion and bacon bits, mixed veggies, and gravy. Many people seem appalled by this, including Steve's workmates and my mother, but our logic was sound:
1) We wanted a meal we would enjoy. Steve knows he cooks sausages to perfection. However neither of us have ever attempted to cook a turkey, and my obvious limitations mean that even a regular roast dinner can be quite an adventure. So we opted for definitely-yummy sausages over a potentially disastrous attempt at Christmas Turkey Dinner With All The Trimmings.
2) We don't get much time off work together. There were better things for us to do with this precious four-day block than spend a day prepping, a day cooking, and two days washing-up.
3) Not to mention two weeks of leftovers.
4) If we happen to fancy a Turkey Dinner With All The Trimmings we can go to a carvery any week of the year and stack more (properly-cooked) grub on our plates than we can eat. We're in a fortunate position where it's not like Christmas dinner represents the one decent meal of the winter.
Plus, of course, by the time my mother phoned and expressed her horror at Sausages For Christmas Dinner, she hadn't even eaten yet, while at our house the dishes were done, the ice-cream was eaten, and Steve's mother was giving us both a run for our money on the Wii. So in the absence of the dedicated chef (mum's husband is not only an excellent cook, but actually enjoys doing it) I think our version was just fine.
I got a nap in while Steve and his mum went for a walk, and then she went home and we settled down for a nice relaxing evening.
Boxing Day was more of the same. A lie-in and a couple of hours pottering about the house playing with presents, followed by a leisurely jaunt into Warwick and a cream tea at a ye olde tea shoppe near the castle. Saturday was a lie-in, bacon sandwiches, and a trip out for some milk which turned into a couple of hours with friends at a slightly remote pub near Cubbington, complete with roaring log fire and dogs in the bar. Sunday's lie-in was followed by a trip to Kenilworth Castle, which was fun. It was also a lot more accessible than I thought it would be, so we'll have to go back in the summer when hopefully I'll be a bit more mobile again, and we can appreciate it without the pressing issue of freezing cold.
So, today is back to work day. Notable absence of lie-ins and weirdness of being in the house by myself all morning.
I don't want to post this, because posting this means my holiday is over... :(
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