I seem to have contracted Job Seekers' Psychosis.
I first noticed it the other day.
Job adverts began to swim before my eyes.
I could read other things, all except job adverts.
I went straight home and went to bed,
Saying to myself,
It's another day tomorrow.
But when tomorrow came, I couldn't get up.
When I finally did, and went out,
My legs refused to move in the direction of the job centre.
I told them to, but they wouldn't,
They went the other way.
Even in the library,
My hands refused to open the newspapers at the job section.
Instead my eyes would only read the funnies,
And a piece about someone caught with a government whip in their hands.
I'd stopped reading my stars long ago.
They always said something like,
Play your cards right and promotion is on its way,
Or
Love blossoms in the workplace today.
I went to the doctor.
I told him that I had Job Seekers' Psychosis.
He looked at me blankly,
Then he took a large book from the shelf, thumbed through,
And declared,
It's not here. It's unknown to science.
How did I feel? What were its symptoms?
I said they were extreme anger.
A strong desire to see a change in government.
Even go to parliament and scream and shout.
Wanting to swear and curse at the next person to say,
Haven't you got a job yet!
Or
Get a job! There's plenty of work if you look for it,
And other such comments.
A desire to rant and rave at the people working at the job centre,
With all their smarmy looks.
If it wasn't for the likes of me,
They too would be looking for work.
These were its positive symptoms.
Its negative symptoms were extreme lethargy,
Laying in bed, sitting at home, staring at the wallpaper.
Guilt, shame, depression, and worrying about money.
He said,
A lot of his patients had been complaining of the same symptoms.
He took a prescription pad, saying,
What do you want?
A decent job,
I replied.
He smiled wryly,
And wrote me out a prescription for valium,
Saying,
Take one of these when it gets too bad,
"But not too many.
He's a good doctor.
He reached for the certificate pad;
How long do you want?
Until the recession's over,
I replied.
Come and see me in a month,
he said,
Handing me a note saying, depression - a month off.
Stop looking for work for a while,
"Don't even think about it.
"Do something worthwhile, get meaning back in your life.
"Have a bit of fun, try to enjoy yourself.
"Take up a hobby.
"Try to get away.
"Anything but look for work.
I took his advice.
He's a good doctor.
