Welcome to the Machine
Having graduated from a full time course almost two years ago, I joined a part-time masters course at the same university. The Council, having the graduates best interests at heart immediately sent a Council Tax arrears notice for the amount of £845 - including a 25% discount for living with a full-time student. It should be noted that the full-time student is also my girlfriend, or was until a couple of days ago. I decided it was a good idea to inform the council that I was unemployed, received some support from family members to make ends meet and thus was unable to cough up the amount required.
Polite as they were, they informed me that there was no possible way for me to avoid paying the amount in full or in one installment. Overcoming my initial excitement of choices, I repeated that I do not have the extra cash and was unable to pay. Joyfully, they informed me that I had to fill out an application for housing benefit. A housing benefit is given to people of no or low income to assist them in paying the rent. Of course this was not what I was after, but no matter how I explained it, it all run down to filling the application. In between the process several other letters arrived with a final letter with authoritative, bold, large letters spelling "COURT SUMMONS". Initially, the thought of going to court sounded novel and I have always been intrigued by wigs - this was my opportunity to be part of something.
My application was rejected - how sad.
The nice people at the Council took up the liberty in explaining in detail, crossing the t's and dotting the i's, the reasons why I was not entitled to housing benefit [Reason for Calculation: Person from Abroad]. For a fraction of a second I forgot which party was in power, and I quickly checked with my new god...in contradiction, the british national party does not appear to be in power after all. Another envelope is received. It has a nice covering letter by a Ms. Something. She writes, ...if I am entitled to benefit then she will need to issue a National Insurance Number on my behalf. Soon another letter follows that speaks of not being allowed to have a NI number since I do not have plans of staying in the UK. I was pleased to see that my letter to them was well read and understood, as I had explained that I would remain in the UK after my graduation if I was able to get a job that covered my living expenses.
Having sorted all the above, I made a phone call to the council regarding my Court Summons, once again repeating myself in how I am unemployed, a part-time student and unable to pay that amount.
I am asked whether I am entitled to work and live in the UK.
They receive my positive reply.
Am I sure?
Yes, I am.
They inform me I have to go through the immigration office.
I refrain myself.
Thoughts of class struggle intensify the anger which is swallowed down to form a mild tumor in a few years time. Instead, I calmly educate my interlocutor: Cyprus is part of the European Union therefore I need not go through immigration but have a lawful right to work and live in the UK. Referred as a sir, I am interrupted to be told that I do have to go through immigration. The thought passes my mind that recording phone calls for training purposes is a myth and hang up.
I call another person from the council who is much more polite and in astonishment, is actually listening to what I have to say. I am, in his words, what they call in England "Caught between a rock and a hard place". There's no way of avoiding paying Council Tax even though my claims are legit. The advice is to do what other foreign students who have just graduated but are yet unemployed and have to pay council tax: ask my parents to lend me the money. I followed the advice and spoke with a computer software over the phone that guided me through the payment process.
The next day I called the job center and told them I wanted to get a National Insurance number. We talked briefly on the phone and they gathered my information. They gave me a date for the next day to go for an interview. The interview was done by a kind ol' lady who seemed to glide beyond the mundane question marks and onto more humane areas of interest such as whether I had been accustomed to the cold weather in the UK, what, coming from the nice warm weather of Cyprus. I wonder whether she had better training into being human than the younger people I talked to over the phone. But it appears humanity derives from something other than training. The lady tells me I should have my national insurance proof by a couple of weeks time and the actual card in a months time. And so it happened. Apparently, I am not a person from abroad after all and I needn't go through immigration. Well, that was enlightening, but I wonder how come other people from the Council told me so. Surely this is no confusion. It cannot be for then the authority might make...mistakes? No, surely that was not the case.
For the next few weeks I fall into depression. I would wake up every day and run to the door hoping to find a letter from the council thanking me for the payment. Nothing. Every single morning at eight o'clock I would ran down the stairs and to the door only to find junk mail, water bills, letters from friends, books from amazon but no Council Tax letter. I felt disappointed, abandoned; the closest people to me had vanished. I used to receive letters from them at times even two per week. We grew distant, forgotten about one another. The thought of being used even passed through one ear but quickly came out the other. All I needed to do was be patient. Maybe they were busy, that time of the year. Surely, my gut feeling was right. After a month or so I receive a letter from my friends at Council Tax.
It is a new notice of £1,153.04 minus £288.26 discount for living with a full time student, therefore £864.78. I beside myself with joy. After a quick dance to celebrate, I call the Council and inform them that I do have a NI number, I am unemployed and do not have the money to pay for Council Tax. I am speaking to the wrong person and so get connected to the proper department. I am then told, that I need to fill out a new application for a housing benefit, but it will most probably be rejected for the same reason given in the previous application - Person from Abroad. A cloud of haze manifests itself and clutters my vision. I thought I was beyond that point, had climbed the ladder. There is a ladder alright, it's just that it's for foreign people. The British ladder is over there not here. Very well, then I need to talk to the people at the job center and having been given the number I call them. I go through an interview that lasts for about thirty minutes only to discover towards the end that the whole thing was wrong and we had to start over. You see, I had been referring to the person living with me as a girlfriend. Silly me, I was assuming that since we're not married, we have no shared accounts, no children etc that we were boyfriend/girlfriend. Apparently, by law, we are partners and this changes the whole procedure.
I struggle to comprehend this: When I went to university I had nothing under my name, but having taken a course for three years and having paid around £10.000 then magically, a label appears under my name that reads: "Digital Media Artist" or something along those lines. I understand that the same thing happens when a couple is married. They become a husband and wife, or whatever else depending on sexual orientation, when by civil or religious witness they are pronounced husband and wife. So when did the label change in this case? Was it when I claimed benefit? Was it after a particular time span of living with the other person? I erase the thoughts from my head as it is better to pass these things in silence. The interview begins again although this will make the chances of actually getting benefit much harder. If my partner is sustained financially by her parents then I am not entitled to benefit.
Today, we (my partner and I) had to go to the job center together for my benefit. Everyone there treats anyone who walks through the door either like a retard or a potential threat. And I mean "retard" in it's most controversial sense. We are guided to the waiting "lounge" and given a form to fill out. We are then called to one of the cubicles where this man asks us my partner several questions. She says she receives the amount of £1000 per month from her parents to cover her expenses (half of what I pay). You see, disappointed the man says, we are not entitled to benefit. We would be if both of us made £400 per month. And we "make" £600 more. It's so evident it's not even a trick. I ask the man whether then my partner is liable for not sustaining me. Could I take my partner to court because she receives an amount per month to cover her expenses but does not support me in paying the other half that we're supposed to?
To make it more clear, if the amount of money my partner receives is to cover half of our expenses, and I'm unemployed thus unable to cover the other half of the expenses then what? The man gets advice by his colleague. He then returns to say that the housing benefit department will call us to ask account details, transactions over the past two months etc. All the bureaucracy I went to at least three times now. He tells us to sit in the lounge, wishes us the best of luck, informs us he knows things are hard and complicated. Sitting on the lounge chair, looking around at all the people waiting in cleverly disguised cues, I realise things are not complicated at all. The system makes everything complicated so that less people get money out of someone else's pockets - the tax payers. And that is all good. But what about the people who don't want to get money out of other people's pockets? What about those poor fuckers who pay their food, water, rent, tuition fees, internet access, electricity but have no income to pay tax? I quickly realise how mundane it all is, take my partner and walk out of the job center while I murmur a strictly genteel "fuck off".
Polite as they were, they informed me that there was no possible way for me to avoid paying the amount in full or in one installment. Overcoming my initial excitement of choices, I repeated that I do not have the extra cash and was unable to pay. Joyfully, they informed me that I had to fill out an application for housing benefit. A housing benefit is given to people of no or low income to assist them in paying the rent. Of course this was not what I was after, but no matter how I explained it, it all run down to filling the application. In between the process several other letters arrived with a final letter with authoritative, bold, large letters spelling "COURT SUMMONS". Initially, the thought of going to court sounded novel and I have always been intrigued by wigs - this was my opportunity to be part of something.
My application was rejected - how sad.
The nice people at the Council took up the liberty in explaining in detail, crossing the t's and dotting the i's, the reasons why I was not entitled to housing benefit [Reason for Calculation: Person from Abroad]. For a fraction of a second I forgot which party was in power, and I quickly checked with my new god...in contradiction, the british national party does not appear to be in power after all. Another envelope is received. It has a nice covering letter by a Ms. Something. She writes, ...if I am entitled to benefit then she will need to issue a National Insurance Number on my behalf. Soon another letter follows that speaks of not being allowed to have a NI number since I do not have plans of staying in the UK. I was pleased to see that my letter to them was well read and understood, as I had explained that I would remain in the UK after my graduation if I was able to get a job that covered my living expenses.
Having sorted all the above, I made a phone call to the council regarding my Court Summons, once again repeating myself in how I am unemployed, a part-time student and unable to pay that amount.
I am asked whether I am entitled to work and live in the UK.
They receive my positive reply.
Am I sure?
Yes, I am.
They inform me I have to go through the immigration office.
I refrain myself.
Thoughts of class struggle intensify the anger which is swallowed down to form a mild tumor in a few years time. Instead, I calmly educate my interlocutor: Cyprus is part of the European Union therefore I need not go through immigration but have a lawful right to work and live in the UK. Referred as a sir, I am interrupted to be told that I do have to go through immigration. The thought passes my mind that recording phone calls for training purposes is a myth and hang up.
I call another person from the council who is much more polite and in astonishment, is actually listening to what I have to say. I am, in his words, what they call in England "Caught between a rock and a hard place". There's no way of avoiding paying Council Tax even though my claims are legit. The advice is to do what other foreign students who have just graduated but are yet unemployed and have to pay council tax: ask my parents to lend me the money. I followed the advice and spoke with a computer software over the phone that guided me through the payment process.
The next day I called the job center and told them I wanted to get a National Insurance number. We talked briefly on the phone and they gathered my information. They gave me a date for the next day to go for an interview. The interview was done by a kind ol' lady who seemed to glide beyond the mundane question marks and onto more humane areas of interest such as whether I had been accustomed to the cold weather in the UK, what, coming from the nice warm weather of Cyprus. I wonder whether she had better training into being human than the younger people I talked to over the phone. But it appears humanity derives from something other than training. The lady tells me I should have my national insurance proof by a couple of weeks time and the actual card in a months time. And so it happened. Apparently, I am not a person from abroad after all and I needn't go through immigration. Well, that was enlightening, but I wonder how come other people from the Council told me so. Surely this is no confusion. It cannot be for then the authority might make...mistakes? No, surely that was not the case.
For the next few weeks I fall into depression. I would wake up every day and run to the door hoping to find a letter from the council thanking me for the payment. Nothing. Every single morning at eight o'clock I would ran down the stairs and to the door only to find junk mail, water bills, letters from friends, books from amazon but no Council Tax letter. I felt disappointed, abandoned; the closest people to me had vanished. I used to receive letters from them at times even two per week. We grew distant, forgotten about one another. The thought of being used even passed through one ear but quickly came out the other. All I needed to do was be patient. Maybe they were busy, that time of the year. Surely, my gut feeling was right. After a month or so I receive a letter from my friends at Council Tax.
It is a new notice of £1,153.04 minus £288.26 discount for living with a full time student, therefore £864.78. I beside myself with joy. After a quick dance to celebrate, I call the Council and inform them that I do have a NI number, I am unemployed and do not have the money to pay for Council Tax. I am speaking to the wrong person and so get connected to the proper department. I am then told, that I need to fill out a new application for a housing benefit, but it will most probably be rejected for the same reason given in the previous application - Person from Abroad. A cloud of haze manifests itself and clutters my vision. I thought I was beyond that point, had climbed the ladder. There is a ladder alright, it's just that it's for foreign people. The British ladder is over there not here. Very well, then I need to talk to the people at the job center and having been given the number I call them. I go through an interview that lasts for about thirty minutes only to discover towards the end that the whole thing was wrong and we had to start over. You see, I had been referring to the person living with me as a girlfriend. Silly me, I was assuming that since we're not married, we have no shared accounts, no children etc that we were boyfriend/girlfriend. Apparently, by law, we are partners and this changes the whole procedure.
I struggle to comprehend this: When I went to university I had nothing under my name, but having taken a course for three years and having paid around £10.000 then magically, a label appears under my name that reads: "Digital Media Artist" or something along those lines. I understand that the same thing happens when a couple is married. They become a husband and wife, or whatever else depending on sexual orientation, when by civil or religious witness they are pronounced husband and wife. So when did the label change in this case? Was it when I claimed benefit? Was it after a particular time span of living with the other person? I erase the thoughts from my head as it is better to pass these things in silence. The interview begins again although this will make the chances of actually getting benefit much harder. If my partner is sustained financially by her parents then I am not entitled to benefit.
Today, we (my partner and I) had to go to the job center together for my benefit. Everyone there treats anyone who walks through the door either like a retard or a potential threat. And I mean "retard" in it's most controversial sense. We are guided to the waiting "lounge" and given a form to fill out. We are then called to one of the cubicles where this man asks us my partner several questions. She says she receives the amount of £1000 per month from her parents to cover her expenses (half of what I pay). You see, disappointed the man says, we are not entitled to benefit. We would be if both of us made £400 per month. And we "make" £600 more. It's so evident it's not even a trick. I ask the man whether then my partner is liable for not sustaining me. Could I take my partner to court because she receives an amount per month to cover her expenses but does not support me in paying the other half that we're supposed to?
To make it more clear, if the amount of money my partner receives is to cover half of our expenses, and I'm unemployed thus unable to cover the other half of the expenses then what? The man gets advice by his colleague. He then returns to say that the housing benefit department will call us to ask account details, transactions over the past two months etc. All the bureaucracy I went to at least three times now. He tells us to sit in the lounge, wishes us the best of luck, informs us he knows things are hard and complicated. Sitting on the lounge chair, looking around at all the people waiting in cleverly disguised cues, I realise things are not complicated at all. The system makes everything complicated so that less people get money out of someone else's pockets - the tax payers. And that is all good. But what about the people who don't want to get money out of other people's pockets? What about those poor fuckers who pay their food, water, rent, tuition fees, internet access, electricity but have no income to pay tax? I quickly realise how mundane it all is, take my partner and walk out of the job center while I murmur a strictly genteel "fuck off".
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