Oi Bludger

I saw this posted on Facebook recently and it got me thinking about how I feel about it. I don’t know the author but it’s been shared a bunch of times and clearly people have strong feelings about it.

My views on things have definitely changed as I’ve gotten older. I’ve learnt that there are a lot more “grey” answers than “black and white” ones, especially when dealing with humans. At the same time, “I get it”. I’m not as passionately angry about it as this dude, but “I get it”. I don’t like my tax paying money going towards “bludgers” either.

Mind you, who is this guy anyway to categorise and determine “bludger” status?

Is he the President of the Bludger Society?

Like most of us I’ve been guilty of making judgement calls only to discover later that what I saw from the outside wasn’t the reality. I remember wondering why the lady who seems totally fine doesn’t have a job or even volunteer? I later discovered that she has a serious mental illness that she doesn’t have displayed on her forehead for everyone to see. Just getting her kids ready for school while ignoring the auditory hallucinations would be a task in itself. For those who wouldn’t know that, I rekon she would be seen as a “bludger”.

I accept that in the world in which we live there are arseholes. People can simply be arseholes. Does it mean we (as a society) have to be arseholes too? I don’t think so.

Thankfully we have developed into a civilised society where we no longer behead people or burn them at the stake for being less than an ideal human. We instead house them in jails and provide them a basic living wage to survive. It’s says more about us than them.

This doesn’t take away from the fact that people have to take personal responsibility for their lives and there will always be the whingers of the world who can’t get out of their own way.

If there’s one thing I can guarantee the people who feel ripped off by those who have been on long term unemployment benefits is that they’re not living on easy street. They’ll probably never go on an overseas holiday, they’ll never have status in their community; they’ll probably never own a home let alone one in a decent suburb and they’ll have to drive a bomb of a car that breaks down regularly. They won’t be able to buy their kids the gifts they want at Christmas time and they’ll second guess calling an ambulance because they don’t have cover. And just for good measure, they will be reminded of their status within their community on a regular basis. Don’t worry, most feel shit about themselves even if it appears from the outside they are kicking back without a care in the world. Reminder: Defensive behaviour is people trying to protect themselves.

However, I agree that people should be trying to do “something” to work their way towards employment, self improvement or being an active member of the community.

It’s not so much the problem at hand I disagree with but the solutions suggested.

This is a nuanced problem which needs a nuanced response.

Sentences like…

“Don’t earn enough money? Get another job” or “educate yourself” is as helpful as telling a person with depression to “just smile”.

It can end up being a perpetual self feeding problem. Without a leg up to get a leg out a lot of people can find themselves trapped inside the mouse wheel.

Plus, the idea of passing a drug test to get benefits is ludicrous. The argument above indicates that he thinks the majority of people on unemployment benefits are using drugs, so let’s cost that out shall we? The money saved from “catching” the drug users on Centrelink would surely negate the cost it would incur to test them all.

And if that rule came into play, who would do the testing? Centrelink personnel? Employment consultants? (umm. No thanks)

Would all people receiving unemployment benefits have to make a doctor’s appt every fortnight and take away appointment times from sick people? What about those on disability pensions or aged care pensions who are drug dependent.. do we cut them off too? Or is it ok for them to use tax payers money for their drug of choice but not for the unemployed. Maybe drug testing is only for the ones that are in the “bludger” category, not the ones who are just “normal” unemployed people. *Refer to the Bludger Society President above.

If their payment is cut off what would they have to do to get it back again?

Do they have to do another test in a couple days and they’re good to go?

What about people who will continually fail to pass these tests because they’re addicts? What then? Where do they go? (Besides the obvious-rehab where it’s often more than one attempt to be on the road to recovery). Under this rule they would have no money to pay their rent or buy food. What would you do if you had no money to pay rent and buy food?

Logic says some people would turn to crime and we would see the crime rate rise. In turn, this would put extra pressure on the legal system as well as having more people with a criminal conviction which would make it even harder to get employment . People could become homeless and displaced (another negative for employment). To top it off their children could end up being taken away into foster care, a system which is already struggling. So all in all it could mean that the cost for the taxpayer would increase.

So what’s the answer? I don’t bloody know… I write a blog for a hobby for God’s sake, what would I know?

What I do know is that a punitive response isn’t always the best way. And just as a side note, if you think it’s only “bludgers” who take drugs, think again my friends. It’s rife and apparently quite cool to snort a bit of Charlie on the weekend by apparently “well respected community people”.

There are a million different reasons which need a million different solutions to this complex social issue. The problems I can see include a struggling health system, drug culture, housing affordability, education, generational unemployment, parenting skills, the increase in mental health issues. The answer is not as simple as “get a job”. I wish it was.

In my confusion and internal debate about where I sit with this, I have come to the conclusion that I simply feel empathy for arseholes too, and I’m not sad about that. After all, I doubt the homeless guy I slipped a fiver to the other day dreamt as a little boy that he would be sitting outside of a shopping centre begging for money. He probably wanted to be a Fireman or a AFL footballer.

I’m not religious, but “there for grace of God go I”.

M

Girls Girls Girls and a Rogue Booger

Friendship

Recently I’ve had my memory launched back to my Primary School days when I was 7 or 8 and things were a bit bumpy in the friend department.

One particular name pops up…

Vanessa Fucking Pickard. I don’t think her parents gave her that middle name.. it was probably Jane or Louise like most girls born in the ’70s.

Vanessa was the unelected leader to the cohort of girls in our class. All the girls seemed to follow her and do what she said. They loved her and I couldn’t figure out why because she scared the beejeebers out of me.

Maybe the other girls in my class were a bit scared of Vanessa too? She seemed to have some kind of magical power. It was a power I was envious of. How’d she get everyone to like her? How’d she become the boss of our little world of girls? I don’t know how or why but one day she decided that she didn’t like me, and that was it…I was “outed”.

I think my gatekeeper friend was in another classroom perhaps? She was a year older than me and hey, maybe she was just sick of the shy new kid that she got lumped looking after because her dad was the principal. I don’t blame her. I was almost mute in my younger years. (I’m sure that wasn’t the case Cath..ha!)

I remember wishing for recess and lunch to never come. I felt so safe in the classroom…I didn’t know what to do at recess and lunch. I had no one to play with. When the girls would see me, they’d shoot off in another direction. I remember the look on a couple of their faces. It was guilt mixed with “if we don’t follow her, I might be you next week”. With nowhere to go, I would seek out my older sister who was in year 7. Popular, pretty with lots of friends, she was nice enough to let me hang around a bit until one day she pointed out that I had a GIANT BOOGER  hanging from my nose in front of all of her year 7 friends. I think she was trying to be discreet but my reaction to the devastation of “CODE BOOGER” alerted everyone else to the fact of my unfortunate situation. Tears ensued, which made code booger a giant boogery mess of a situation.

My lonely days came once more. There was no way I was going anywhere near all of the big kids. “Rogue booger” may strike again and I couldn’t risk another humiliation. Around this time, I remember our Principal talking to our class, or maybe it was the whole school…. there weren’t many of us. He spoke of inclusion and kindness and friendship. At that moment I knew he was talking about me. I knew he was talking to Vanessa. I also knew that my dad with his big fat giant mouth was the reason this was happening. I was 7 or 8, but I wasn’t stupid. I can’t remember how long this friendship outage lasted. It may have been a week or months. It’s all a blur now. But I’m 45 years old now and I can’t recall where I put my phone most days, but I remember this. I remember the feeling. I remember the sadness and the sick feeling in my belly.  I remember not wanting to go to school. I remember hiding behind the classroom so no one could see me..the pasty quiet kid with no friends.

God, school years can be so hard.

Vanessa Pickard moved away that year and I never ever again experienced that kind of ‘outage’ for the rest of my school days. I think I was one of the lucky ones.

But in turn, I’m sure I was no angel either. None of us are. We all slip up on the pathway of learning how to live in the world. I’m certain I have been cast as a villain in at least a couple of people’s stories. Most of us are at some point in our lives.

The 8-year-old Melissa hopes that Vanessa stepped in a few dog turds on her path to adulthood but the older and wiser Melissa wonders about what happened to Vanessa. I wonder if she learned what it meant to be a good friend? Or did she grow up to be an older version, changed her name to Karen, and makes demands to see the manager. I wonder if she ever had a turn at being “outed” during her school life? I wonder if she was even aware of her actions and the impact they had on others?

This child-ing business is tough. And parenting our children through these times is tough too. I’m sure Vanessa Fucking Pickard never knew how many tears I cried about being left out. She may have had a whole bunch of stuff to deal with herself. Who knows? She probably wouldn’t even remember her years at our little school, as she was shipped off to yet another place to live,  like all of the other Army kids.

So to all of the Vanessa’s out there, please try your hardest at not being mean bitches. There are good bits to everyone, even the bitchiest of bitches have goodness buried in there somewhere. Let that shit shine! You never know…maybe one day it will be your turn to be crying behind the classroom.

And to all of the Melissa’s, for the love of God, carry a hanky. Code booger is never far away.

M