Living in Sweden is character building #4 Self Made part 1

Self Made- Part 1

Mr Eriksson said that I have to start doing something with myself. Oh dear, I told him I returned the vibrator he bought me as all toys Made in China were being recalled.
”I mean you have to try and get a job, Fru Eriksson."

I walked into the unemployment office for those registered as workers in the arts and culture sector, unaware that I had a fresh pile of dog shit under my shoes. I was half way towards the the middle of the room when others noticed the shit stained footprints led directly to me. So I do what I do best; deny it, keep my chin up and repeat several times in my head ”I am having a bad day not a bad life.”
After speaking to the lady behind the ”computer says no” desk, I am told that according to the records my work and education details are still not up to the Swedish standards. And plus there is a remark about my harassing a previous handläggare. The lady says this sort of carry on is unacceptable in Sweden.”Vi gör inte sånt här”
What about this thing called AKASSA, I ask her. She tells me that I have to be first registered as actively unemployed at the arbetslösformedling in order to get the dole. I tell her that I have been actively unemployed for 8 years! Surely I’m elligible? She looks at me and gives me the ” computer says no” look. Not sexy, if you know what I mean.

I look up and see the faces of the unemployed. I recognise one of the actors from a film poster- something about nothing and somebody dies type film.Very Swedish. Next to him is another actor that I recognise from the tabloids who had a dead body fall out of his closet. He said the corpse wasn’t his and he had no idea how it got there and then there’s a bunch of artists who couldn’t draw themselves out of a paper bag. At least the actor with the corpse must have had some talent to get himself of that mess. You have to admire the tenacity of survivors. I am suddenly inspired. You can’t keep a good utlänning down. I turn back to the lady at the desk and with a second wind in my sail and say enthusisastically, ”What about Starta Eget?

She shakes her head and sprays me with her spit when she tells me my Swedish isn’t good enough. Oh what a shame I say, I’d better go home and cut my wrists, eller hur?

Fru Eriksson