No fanfares, please, was all the case worker at this unnamed German Jobcenter could say before she slumped into her ergonomic office chair and reached for the second desk drawer from the top.
Once fortified, she became more vocal: Top brass recently installed the exact same fanfares at our branch that Irish airline RyanAir uses to announce to passengers when a flight arrives on time. It's a very cheerful sound, she added. The idea came from a middle manager who took RyanAir to a symposium in London to learn from our British counterparts, they say jobcentre with re, not er, on how to address our clientele. They suggested we call aid recipients valued clients, and he explained that they took the inspiration from the traditional worthy oriental gentleman. He flew RyanAir so the top brass could do a press release on our frugal processes. Please, don't tell anybody that we lost a valued client. You know, we establish a deep connection with them over time. We get to know the names or their kids, what medication they are on to treat the jobless depression, even if grandma sends them 5 euros in the mail for Christmas. And we speak with affection of them, for example, the other day Herr Mueller visited, and I later told my colleague Heidi that he must not have had a shower in a week. The woman we lost, she did not take any job we offered her, although we pushed firmly. Instead, someone she had applied at before she became our valued client called her up, all happy and friendly, you know, the way you shouldn't treat people, and asked if she still wanted the job.
That's the job she took! One offered nicely. It's sad. We just try to ensure they never forget the seriousness of being unemployed, and then someone comes along and poof, takes her away with a happy smile.
We want our valued clients to learn soft skills, like how to be grateful that society does not let you starve outright. Everybody can do the hard skills, like scrubbing toilets. But gratitude in the face of adversity, that's what we are here for.
If someone missed an appointment for no good reason, we cut their allowance. They call it sanctions or punishment, but it really is just a reminder that things can always get worse.
Then suddenly, she looked up: why am I telling you all this?
Which ended our interview.
The interview is, of course, fiction. The woman who took a job offered nicely (meaning not by the jobcenter) really exists.
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