My application for Jobseeker’s Allowance results in an appointment to attend a “new jobseeker interview” at my local Jobcentre Plus office.

The appointment doesn’t get off to a good start because I get confused about where I should be going.

I’ve been given the name of the “work coach” (yes, the phrase annoys me intensely) and told to report to the second floor.

I take the stairs and on the first floor is pinned a list of all the staff who are on both the first and second floors. The name of my “work coach” isn’t on either list.

So I trudge up to the second floor. I find another list which again has the names of all the staff on both floors. The name of my “work coach” appears on this sheet as being on both the first floor and the second floor.

I make the bold assumption that they aren’t into quantum theory and haven’t yet worked out how to be in two places at the same time and I push open the door to find an open plan office with a G4S security guard acting as a receptionist.

I give my name and explain the confusion about floors. I’m told my “work coach” works on both the first and second floors and my appointment is definitely on the second floor.

Jumping up and down

I take a seat in the waiting area.

A woman and two young children arrive shortly after me. The children find the toys and games stacked up in the corner and sit on the floor putting together a Peppa Pig puzzle consisting of lots of characters in two halves.

The puzzle keeps them occupied for long periods but they occasionally break off to tell the woman there are pieces missing.

I wonder if that’s a metaphor for my current state. I used to be whole with the two parts of “work” and “life” fitting together. Now one piece is missing and I’m no longer complete.

The thought is interrupted by my name being called and I spend the next 30 minutes going through the application and agreeing to look for work and apply for jobs.

The interview is entirely process-driven. There’s no spark of humanity, no empathy, no deviation from the set list of questions.

Train of thought

The only time there is any interest is when I hand over my CV listing my employment history, skills, achievements, hobbies and interests, education and training.

This prompts just one question.

It’s not about my career in journalism and broadcasting; not about presidents and prime ministers or sheikhs and sultans I’ve interviewed; not about places I’ve visited; not about performing magic as a hobby.

No, the one question is short and succinct.

“Do you still volunteer at the Bluebell Railway?”

“Yes,” I reply enthusiastically, thinking we can swap stories of famous locos we’ve seen or routes we’ve travelled.

It’s only later I realise voluntary work needs to be recorded as evidence of searching for jobs in assessing my claim. The question was less about their interest in heritage railways and more about my availability for employment.

I come unstuck on only one question.

Yet again, it’s a confusing two-part question.

I’m asked what “my usual job or wage” is.

To my mind, that’s two questions in one. What is my usual job? What is my usual wage?

I ask my “work coach” to explain what information they want. They answer by repeating the question word for word as though I’m a recalcitrant schoolboy.

I ask again whether they want to know what my usual job is (which I’m happy to give) or what my previous salary was (which I’m reluctant to divulge).

This prompts raised eyebrows and silence. No further clarification.

So I tell them “broadcast journalist” and the answer satisfies them for the purposes of form-filling.

We move on but it leaves me feeling as though I’ve done something wrong or not answered correctly. I wonder how others cope with the process, particularly those who are in much greater need of welfare.

At the end of the session, they propose a date for our next meeting.

I explain that I’m away then so cannot attend until the following week.

They ask where I’ll be and when I explain that I’ll be on a rail trip in Europe, they tell me that my claim will have to be closed and I will have to submit a fresh application when I return to the UK.

I try to argue that with email and web access I can continue to look for and apply for jobs while out of the country but I’m told the rules have to be followed.

Back to the drawing board.

As I walk from the Job Centre back to the station to catch a train home, I walk past a boarded-up shop with signs indicating the property has been sold and “brand new apartments” are coming soon.

The sign above has peeling and fading letters indicating what the property was used for previously.

I laugh when I see it used to be an EMPLOYMENT AGENCY.