Assessing the Accessibility Storm at the Job Centre
By Yolanda Barker
By Yolanda Barker
In the great tapestry of life, jobcentreplus is often portrayed as the one-stop shop to fix unemployment. However, my recent escapade at the Ashford Job Centre has left me questioning whether it was designed by a committee of Dementors sucking out happiness and joy. Is that intentional?
September 2023 saw the Department of Work and Pensions announce that as part of the Government’s mission, there will be changes in the welfare reform encouraging disabled people and people with health conditions to get work and will consider changes to the Work Capability Assessment to ensure it delivers the right outcomes.
As someone with a disability for many years, I am still stunned that the Government can consider tackling this group of people when basic places like this are still wholly unacceptable.
Finding the Job Centre was like finding the entrance to a secret club for wizards — no signs from the front of the building, a hidden door around the back and a mysterious wind tunnel as a test of commitment. Perhaps they believe that only the most determined job seekers can withstand gale-force winds to access their services. A subtle initiation perhaps!
Once inside the lift was the piece de resistance of accessibility challenges. I found myself trapped in a metal box that seemed custom-made for a unicycle, not a powerchair or a double buggy.
Picture the scene. My husband gets into the lift to hold the door open and squeezes right into a corner as best he can. As I navigate my way, weirdly I am sure both of us are breathing in as I inch closer. Praying the door would shut once the footrests had been bent in (not intentionally). As the door opened, we had to repeat the efforts to get out with my husband having to take control as I could not see going backwards and there was a seriously unwelcoming staircase to one side.
Entering the elusive Job Centre, we were greeted by two security guards! Okay — so this is how it rolls in here, is it? The ratios were 2 guards:3 Staff and 7 public.
The interior is drab. Yes, it is an office but a tired one. The metal windows and bright lights reminded me of where I worked when I was young which has since been torn down. A few posters on the walls, several small safety notices curling at the edges and a small poster telling you where to log on to look at jobs. Nothing inspiring. The blue chairs although welcoming were positioned in a way I could not have accessed the computers if I needed to.
Privacy it appears is a luxury reserved only for those who don’t need support to find work or to apply for benefits. The open plan nature allowed each conversation to be heard by each other with the woes of one poor unfortunate to be broadcast for all to hear. His case felt like a live rendition of ‘The Computer Says No’ sketch from Little Britain. I was not laughing.
Our visit was a mere formality, a check to confirm our identities in a system that has known us for almost three decades since our children were born. The irony of being thanked for our patience and understanding only backed up the rarity of such civilities in an environment that breeds negativity. I hope we managed to make her afternoon a little nicer.
The benefits system, whilst appreciated, now demands a monthly dance of income and expenditure on a set date otherwise no payment will happen for the next month. Setting people up to fail is hardly conducive to a healthy, happy society. I would go as far as to say it is abusive and cruel. I hope to be proven wrong if that is the case. I am not afraid to say I am wrong.
In this digital age, where connectivity is key, it is disheartening that the necessary face-to-face part of the system appears devoid of hope.
The real tragedy lies in the missed opportunities to create a Job Centre/Benefits Office that embraces optimism and diversity whilst encouraging individuals on their journey to reclaim their lives. Only then can a welfare reform take place affecting disabled people.
