We all have a new regime to cope with. For most people, the change in government from Gordon Browns grand money giveaway to the scrooge brothers of the coalition hasn't really impacted on them yet. For us dole seekers the changes are already apparent. They might get a lot worse yet, but already we share knowing glances at each other and expect trouble ahead.

For many in the general public that's no cause for sympathy. Many will see us as worthless parasites. Many of us are exactly that. Feckless individuals for whom an easy life paid by someone else is a good thing. In theory, the new regime should be sifting them out and pushing them toward trying to find employment. That's what the politicians are telling us they mean to do. In fact, there's already a shift in that direction from those they mean to penalise for their lack of effort. There's a growing sense of urgency.

In a way that's a good thing. It's what the public want. Nonetheless it's occured to me that competition for the vacancies will actually get worse until the economy picks up enough to enlarge the market. And I'm not young any more. That means I have no choice but to take my place on the one-day training courses designed to motivate and improve our job-seeking.

We had a session just the other day. A group of us gathered to listen to a pep talk on how to be a good jobseeker. In fairness, the lady who ran the course did a good job, and even the presence of our claims advisor made little difference.

We were indeed a diverse bunch. I get pretty diverse all on my own sometimes, never mind a cross-section of societies unwanted sat around the room. Mister F was a suprise. Now he's a big chap. He had a very real physical presence. How strange then, despite his friendly, confident manner, and his powerful voice, that he was unwilling to speak out in front of us all.

Mister B was a different beast altogether. A man of forthright opinion. But he knows he's a pain in the backside and we all had a good laugh about his obstinate refusal to accept the obvious. "Hey, B, say what you mean mate. Don't hold back." I called out during a teabreak as he reduced the claims advisor to a sweating nervous wreck. "Don't encourage him, Caldrail." The claims advisor replied in a state of rising panic.

Mister G was an elderly fashion designer, a man who against better judgement had left London to find work in the Rainforests of Darkest Wiltshire. True to his trade, he spent most of the session designing patterns. Red and black pen on white paper. Classic colours to demand attention on the catwalk. See? Amazing what you learn on courses like this. That said, I don't forsee a change in career path, even though a computer program the Job Centre once had me use years ago announced my best career choice was as a hat designer.

"Caldrail?" Our tutor asked me in a moment of quiet with everyone preoccupied with form filling, "Why aren't you a success?"

I think she was asking that question with genuine puzzlement, and for that reason, I'll accept the compliment with good grace. Guess I'm just another square peg. That's the price you pay for individuality in a recession. I doubt a new range of hats was really going to improve my circumstances.

Spray On Success

There's a new nasal spray that can make you better at social interaction. It contains a hormone called 'Oxytocin' which apparently makes people with poor social skills more confident and proficient. I suppose this sort of thing is inevitable. There was a popular song a few decades back, I forget the artist, that was about the changes in future society. In the year 2525... was the chorus. I remember one line was Everything you do or say - Is in the pill you took today.

These days we can't have sex without *iagr* to stiffen our resolve, or various chemicals designed to stop us getting pregnant or seriously ill. Is that really the future we want? Artificial drug-induced lifestyles? Keep taking the pills.