Issue 4 2010 - Learning and teaching portal - Victoria University

now, but was appalled when one interviewer
lectured her that her neckline was too low,
her shoes and necklace all wrong. Jennifer
hurried home trying to cover her blouse.
For a year she worked casually as a room
attendant at the YWCA, but 6 a.m. starts
and requests that she begin work in a few
hours made the job impossible. She does
computer work for her parents’ home
businesses. She has good friends and a
bright ready laugh.
The fourth of five children, she was the first
in the family to do her VCE.
‘It was always going to be me that had the
job and went far.’
Both her parents have two jobs. Her father,
who does promotions for Workcover and is
a part-time masseur, is at a loss to explain
his daughter’s bad luck.
‘She’s a lovely kid. She’s got a great
personality, she’s got the skills. To her credit
she just keeps trying...we hate to see her
hurting so much, but what can you do? You
can’t actually buy them a job,’ he says.
‘Work For the Dole’, declared a newspaper
headline on the Meads’ living room table.
The proposal floated by Prime Minister
John Howard, put unemployment back
in the news. Jennifer likes the idea if it
gives her skills that would help her get a
permanent job. From what she’s read, she’s
not sure that is the case.
‘Still, I’d do it. I’d rather be out there.’
On Tuesday morning Jennifer calls a contact
in a CES office, who tells her about some
jobs that might suit her. Because she may
have to go straight from the CES to an
interview, she dresses in her best clothes:
a dark suit with a green blouse. She wears
platform soles to give her more height.
Beside the newspaper is her sketch book.
Her passion is art. Four of her pieces were
chosen for the walls of her old school, and
still hang there. But it never occurred to her
that art might lead to work or to further
study.
The family lives right on the city’s edge. To
reach the bus stop, Jennifer walks across
vacant lots and treeless parks. The winding
streets full of new homes are empty, save the
occasional woman pushing a pram. There
isn’t a shop in sight, let alone an office or a
factory.
On the bus she meets a friend who is job
hunting with a stack of resumés in her
bag. Recounting her experiences so far, she
is laughing, optimistic. The bus trundles
down the Hume Highway. At the Ford
factory, the friend says she might stand at
the intersection and hand cars her resumé.
Jennifer sits back and says quietly, ‘I was like
that when I started, too.’
An hour after leaving home Jennifer enters
the CES, and takes a number. The office
is crowded. Jennifer waits twenty minutes.
In her hand is a piece of paper with the
job descriptions written down: lingerie
retail, and clerical work with a mechanic in
Airport West.
At 11:55 a.m. with her number next to be
called, a CES clerk puts up a sign: NO JOB
VACANCY REFERRALS BETWEEN
12PM AND 2PM. Jennifer groans. ‘I don’t
believe it.’
By 2 p.m. the jobs have gone.
Jennifer hears the news n the city office
of her case manager, Jane Norris, who has
access to the CES Computer. Ms Norris
works for Employment Express, one of the
private companies to offer case management
after the Labor Government introduced
one-on-one support for the long-term job
seekers in 1994.
On her desk, Ms Norris has some other
vacancies. A city jeweler wants a clerk;
a personnel firm wants part-timer who
qualifies, as Jennifer does, for a Jobstart
subsidy.
‘What about coming in for twenty hours a
week?’ Ms Norris asks.
Jennifer shrugs and smiles. ‘If it’s a job I’ll
take it.’
‘Or a job with Melbourne Pathology. Is
Fitzroy too hard to get to?’ Ms Norris asks.
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