Heve you ever noticed how persitently the civil service agencies tell us how great their customer serrvice is? They hang posters on every wall, print colourful pamphlets, and assure us that everyone is equal and important to the world. The truth, as I've discovered, is that human beings fall well short of government guidelines. Not just the politicians, but those bureaucrats who work on their behalf.

I had a drubbing in public from Bovine Betty more than a year ago. I remember her deliberate attempt to shout me down in front of everyone. At the time I could do no more than sit and suffer because she threatened to have me thrown out of the building if I said a word. "You need to mind your manners" She finished with. I reminded her she needed to mind hers.

It's very easy to think of these confrontations as something of a competition in which one either wins or loses. I try not to, despite all my instincts screaming for some kind of revenge, yet if these standards of customer service exist, people like Bovine Betty need to understand they are liable for breaches of ettitquette.

Today I handed in documents to the Job Centre, a regular formality that's been part of claiming benefits for a while now. Big R has been on the Job Centre team for as long as I've had to suffer unemployment. He's a 'John Prescott' kind of chap, except perhaps not so loud or self important. He accepted my documents and made the error of referring to me as 'Mister'.

Sigh. Here we go again. As politely as possible I pointed to my supporting evidence that I ought to be referred to as 'Lord' if spoken to in a formal manner. He looked at me in north-of-england outrage. "You exoect me to call you that?" He said.

Yes.

"On your bike, you prat!" He spat dismissively, then went of to speak to a security guard for reasons I can only guess at - but ones that are probably obvious. Well. I knew the Job Centre fell short of customer service having already experienced the wrath of the working class claims advisor, but I've been Lord Caldrail for more than eighteen months now. All official. And I note that the only hassle I get is from the Job Centre. It appears that we unemployed people, of whatever background, are really only scumbags and that customer service has face value only.

Making The Wold A Better Place

Over the weekend I attended a film show and group discussion on how individuals can make positive contributions to society. That isn't the sort of thing I usually get involved with. Not only because as an unemployed person there asre some who regard me as beneath society, but also because such things always seem wishy washy and all rather pointless.

The two films were short and sweet. The first was a collage of people from around the world underlining their belief in 'interconnectivity' of the modern world. It was a message of belief that we can all make the world a better place if we respect each other and get along. Clearly the local Job Centre haven't seen it.

The discussion seemed to revolve around the concept that mankind was going to evolve spiritually. That somehow the desire to get along will overcome the more worldly motives of the population. You might find this a little strange considering I'm a spiritualist, but I would point out that humans are not exempt from natural processes, and that our primeval ancestory tends to make us do things for our own profit, a corruption of the survival instinct. We're a social animal and as such, we will sooner or later argue over where to put the fence. The United Nations has done its part in preventing another world war, but notice the global escalation of smaller conflicts. It seems interconnecting has both positive and negative aspects.

The other film was the story of a lion rescued from it's owner as a cub and reared in a garden until it got too big to keep. With responsible good intentions, the new owners decided it was best if the rapidly growing lion was re-introduced into the wild. So the waved goodbye and left nature to take its course.

Some years later they decided to find out what happened to their former pet. Animals touch our hearts all too easily and they simply couldn't forget the short time the lion had been part of their lives. So off they went to Africa, where they were warned that the ion had become master of it's own pride and was probably too dangerous to approach.

With some faith in 'interconnectivity' they went ahead nonetheless. The lion saw them, approached, and greeted his former masters with undisguised joy. It was a teary eyed moment - the film really didn't need the tear-jerking music in the background. Perhaps it was just as well the former owners had treated the lion so well it remembered them fondly. Otherwise that could have all gone horribly wrong.

Perhaps there's a lesson for the Job Centre in that? The lion is coming back later today.