Harry Biddulph decided to deploy a little of his old-fashioned Potteries chumminess towards the young man in the Jobcentre, in the hope of breaking the deadlock.
'I know what you're saying, mar mate,' he smiled. 'But I dunner want to claim this Universal Credit thing. Mar lady says I need to put in for...' He checked the note Daphne had given him again. 'Contribution-based Employment and Support Allowance. She says that's what I'll get now mar sick pay is running out. So how about you let me have a form? I'll fill it in and send it off and, if it's not the right one, they can get back to me and let me know, eh?'
Harry smiled benevolently, as if he was doing the clerk a favour by being so little trouble, but his efforts were in vain.
'I'm sorry sir. Like I said, there's no such thing as ESA for your postcode. You have to claim Universal Credit.' The lad sighed. 'If you need help to learn how to use a computer, you can go up Hanley library.'
Harry explained that his IT skills would be more than adequate to the task should he wish to claim Universal Credit, but he did not.
'Could I get a form for my sick money there?' he asked, sensing a way out of the impasse.
'Sick money? Do you mean PIP?'
'No. I conner claim PIP. I should be better before I need it and, even with this bloody thing on my leg, mar lady says I'm getting about too well for it. I mean my employment and support money.'
'Then no, you can't.'
'Then there's no point me going up the library, is there, youth?'
'They can help you with your claim for Universal Credit.'
'Look pal...' Harry's patience was wearing thin. His injured foot was starting to ache, this lad's smile was starting to annoy him and he was irritated that he would be meeting Daphne for lunch without having completed the apparently simple task she had set him. She would probably glare at him, get her phone out and have it all sorted in seconds, making him feel a fool for failing. He had tried to claim by phone but, as soon as he had given his postcode, the woman had told him he had to claim Universal Credit instead. For reasons which now seemed entirely ill-founded, he had assumed attending the Jobcentre in person might resolve the issue.
'Please don't shout, sir.' The young man raised his voice enough that others close by fell silent, in expectation of an altercation.
'I'm not shouting.' Harry dropped his voice almost to a whisper. 'All I want is a perishing form for contribution-based whatsitsname, and I'll be on my way.'
'I can't give you that. It's been Universal Credit since June.'
'Mar lady says that's summat different and I conner get it because I have a house I let out. She knows about this stuff, you know.'
The clerk looked unconvinced.
'She works down the road. At the CAB.'
The young man's expression changed, as if he might be doubting his own position.
'Maybe she thinks you come under Newcastle,' he suggested. 'But your street is actually inside the Full Service area covered by this Jobcentre.'
'It's not a street.'
'What is it?'
'It's a marina.'
'A what?'
'A mooring. For a narrowboat.'
'I don't know if you can get UC if you live on a boat.'
'I dunner care, youth. I want to claim...'
'Contribution-based ESA,' said the clerk wearily.
'That's New Style ESA now,' corrected a passing colleague.
'It still exists, then?' Harry was pleased to see the lad loose a touch of his snugness. He addressed the woman. 'Can I have a form for that then, duck?'
'You have to phone,' she replied. 'We don't have forms.'
'I tried. They asked for my postcode and told me I had to claim Universal Credit.'
'Who did you call?' the woman asked. 'Was it the ESA new claims number?'
Harry was sure it had been and told her so.
'That's where you went wrong,' she answered. 'You have to call the Universal Credit number.'
'To claim contribution-based ESA?'
'New Style ESA!' she corrected pleasantly.
'Then why the foo...?' Harry stopped himself cursing. 'How would I know to call the Universal Credit number when I want to claim summat else?'
The woman ignored that. 'Not the new claims number,' she said. 'It's the number for people with an ongoing claim for UC.'
'But I don't have an ongoing claim for UC.'
'They can help you set one up at the library,' said the woman helpfully.
'He doesn't want to do that,' said the clerk. 'We've discussed it already.'
'Are you sure?'
'Yes,' Harry answered shortly. 'Do you have that number I need, please duck?'
She wrote it, in very large, neat numbers that even a small child could comprehend on Harry's note from Daphne, crossing out the words contribution-based and writing New Style in their place at the same time.
'There we are, sir.'
Harry gave a weak smile and a begrudging word of thanks, picked up his crutch and limped back to the street. He got out his phone, meaning to make the call, but thought better of it. If he messed it up, he would leave things in a worse state for Daphne to sort out later. He might as well go to the café for a coffee and wait until she and her friends met him there. Between them, they might be able to make sense of what he had been told to do. None of it made any sense to him and he began to wonder if the smug lad and the patronising female had been winding him up all along.
'Just as well I should get my pension in a few months,' he muttered. 'The whole system's gone completely fooking crazy!'
There was a beggar on the street opposite, the bank. Harry didn't usually find any change in his pockets when confronted with these characters but, this time, he made an exception. After all, if he had been given the run-around, what chance did this poor sod have?
