It is already bad enough that I am knocking 49, have not had a proper job for nigh on 7 years due to other concerns and have come to the conclusion that unless I want to clean either offices or old people, I am probably unemployable. I respect the fact that these things have to be done, but not by me they won't. I really have no wish to be a skivvy and while I have done the caring thing, it was out of love and duty, not a career option. I have O levels, not GCSEs, in subjects that do not exist anymore. I didn't go to university because universities back in the 70s were for exceptionally clever people who could already read and write when they left school and for which local authorities gave you a grant to attend. Polytechnics were, er... you went to a poly? LOL. No, I went to art college and eventually dropped out, man, and drifted into industry. I have spent a lifetime doing jobs that didn't really matter (and in a large part were empire building) and building up a set of useless non skills with office software that is the equivalent of being very good on a calculator. My body is also failing; I can't bend very well and although I'm generally fit I can't lift much as I've had the full set of hernias and may well have another brewing. I don't even have any proper referees, which is hugely embarrassing. The jobs I'd really like to do (I would, for instance, really love to while away my declining years doing something meaningful on the waterways) are very few and far between and modern offices bear no relation to the ones I used to work in. In order to claim benefit, I have to make myself available for work almost round the clock yet in the real world, if I eat later than 8pm I am up all night with vicious heartburn because of my hiatus hernia. I can't sleep during the day as I turn into an utter shit because the rest of the world is up and being noisy. I live next door to a family whose children, while quite nice, take advantage of the fact that their parents are both profoundly deaf and can't hear the racket they make. I would probably end up killing someone during nights. So no, C*role, the shiftwork admin job at the warehouse you told me to apply for is a non-runner.
In the 90s, following my redundancy, I was, for a brief time, a regular attendee at the Job Centre in Erith in South East London. Signing on there was almost a pleasure and the staff friendly. When I finally secured a job extorting tolls at the world's premier tolled river crossing in Dartford, one of my very first customers on my very first day was the nice lady with whom I used to sign every week. We had a laugh and I thanked her and she was visibly pleased I'd found a job, however menial.
Which was nice.