Catching Up (Part 3) - Training Day

Another 'where are they now?' short story with the Social Insecurity characters.  In case anyone thought Local Government Officers all have cushy jobs for life...

    Richard Parker had been disappointed rather than surprised when he received his redundancy notice.  His post had been created to guide the council through "Welfare Reform" and, with the introduction of the full digital service of Universal Credit in their area due for July, most of the councillors and senior officers believed that story was now almost over.  Richard, who sincerely believed it would prove to be the start of a new nightmare to compound all that had gone before, had failed to persuade them otherwise. 
    Graciously, his director had given him the formal notification a couple of weeks early.
    'You'll probably want to start looking for jobs soon,' he said.  'With the new financial year starting, there will be more opportunities now than later.' 

    As Richard listened to Hilary Carrington rounding up her training session on that week's changes to benefits for families, he could feel the letter, folded back into its envelope in the breast pocket of his jacket, pressing lightly against his chest.

    A similar letter sat unopened in Andy Burrows' in-tray.  Andy had arrived late, just in time for the training day, after dropping his four kids at their child-minders.  Easter holidays were expensive if both of the Burrows had to work.

    'Is that what I think it is?' he had asked.

    'Yes,' said Richard.

    'I'll open it later.'

    Andy had been anticipating his redundancy even sooner, with the closure of the council's emergency financial support scheme at the start of the year.  However they had kept him on, at Richard's request, supposedly to support Frances Sherborne, the Principal Housing Benefits Officer, as she took over the management of Discretionary Housing Payments.  Richard's hope had been that, working with Andy, she might soften her decidedly flinty attitude to benefit claimants.  The jury was still out on the efficacy of that plan.

    Richard had inadvertently seated himself close to the refreshments table so, when Hilary called a coffee break, he was the first in line.  Diplomatically, he stood back to allow Councillor Paula Walker access to the urn ahead of him.  Three years into her term of office, having won her seat with a resounding victory following the resignation of disgraced former UKIP incumbent Gerry Matthews, she was bright, principled and in-touch with the issues impacting on her constituents.  Richard liked her.  He couldn't help thinking that she would have made a formidable Opposition leader, had the Labour group consisted of more than herself and dear old Margaret Sims.  Instead, an unsteady alliance of the Tories and UKIP stared enviously across the chamber at a resurgent LibDem administration that somehow contrived to be keener on cuts than its predecessors.  None of their members had put in an appearance at today's information event, despite his courteous invitation.

    'This is going to be absolutely horrendous,' Richard said to Paula.  'I bet most of the families who'll be affected don't even know it yet.'

    'I know they don't,' said the councillor.  'I was advising a woman yesterday who wanted to know about childcare costs and tax credits.  She's pregnant and her partner's recently left her.  She'd read up about her rights online, knew all about the Benefit Cap and had worked out she'd be hit when her baby's born next month, but had no idea that she wouldn't get any extra tax credits for him, in or out of work, because she has two kids already.  She couldn't believe there wasn't any "right thing" she could do.'

    'Not without a condom and a Tardis, at any rate.'  Andy Burrows' long arm reached round to splash too much milk into a cup of weak tea.

    'That's what's so unfair,' Paula continued, dunking a custard cream.  'She and her partner were both working in good jobs when the baby was conceived.  Back then, she couldn't possibly have known she'd be a lone parent now.  This policy isn't encouraging responsibility, it's punishing bad luck.'

    Richard filled his cup and, having missed breakfast, snatched a couple of bourbons.  He thought he caught a look of reproach from Frances.  They shuffled through the throng of housing officers, social workers and others, away from the table and the temptation of more biscuits.

    'I'm not against encouraging people to be responsible,' the housing benefits officer said.  'I mean, none of us had our children expecting the state to pay for them, did we?'

    'But we knew it would be there for them if we fell on hard times,' Andy replied.  'Social security - it did exactly what it said on the tin!'

    'There's also no statistical evidence that families on benefits have larger families than those who aren't,' Richard pointed out.  'So this is a measure to tackle a problem that doesn't actually exist.'

    'Which creates new problems,' Paula explained.  'Because the best way of providing for your three or four children in a crisis is now to split up your family, packing off half the kids to dad or grandma, which separates them from their mum and siblings...'

    'Increasing the likelihood that social services will need to intervene to support the family,' Richard continued.

    'Messing up their schooling by moving them in and out of care...' added Andy.

    'And increasing the chances that they will fail educationally, end up in low-paid work and rely on benefits in later life,' Richard concluded. 

    'Even if you believe that some women have kids to get benefits, this punishes the kids,' Paula said, not waiting for Frances to cut in with that suggestion.

    'And it's local authorities who will have to pick up the pieces, one way or another' said Richard.  He saw his wife, a senior social worker, making her way towards them.  'Just ask Beth.'

   Frances didn't seem too keen to do that.  She muttered something about checking in with her deputy and slipped away.

    'I hope you haven't all been bullying her,' Beth said.  'If you're too aggressive, she'll get entrenched in her views.  Didn't you learn anything from bringing up Suzanne?'

    Richard laughed.  Beth had a point.  He would never have expected that petulant teenager to turn her life and studies around and realise her long-hidden dream of studying medicine, though it didn't help his blood pressure to think too hard about the mountain of debt she was incurring to do so.

    'What I learnt is that you can never tell how things might turn out,' he said gently, feeling the folded envelope pressing against his chest.  He had yet to show it to Beth.  'The worst situation can sometimes turn out for the best in the end.'

    'Or you could get knocked down by a bus tomorrow!' quipped Andy.

    'If you're anticipating being knocked down by a bus, Andy, you would be better doing so tonight rather than tomorrow, at least if you want to make the best financial provision for Jayne and the children,' Hilary advised soberly, overhearing their conversation as she queued for her coffee.  'As you'll see, when we look at changes to bereavement benefits, they'll have Widowed Parent's Allowance until the younger twins leave education on today's regulations or Bereavement Payment for eighteen months as of tomorrow.'
    'Seriously?'  Andy looked horrified.
    'I'm afraid so.  Things aren't just getting worse at the cradle; they're equally as nasty when it comes to the grave.'  
    'Ask not for whom the bell tolls...!' sighed Beth.
    Richard decided this was as good a time as any to share his news.  He reached into his pocket.