I got a letter from the Job Centre that my money was ready to pick up—my first month’s benefit, which the Austrian government had paid me. I went and picked up my money, but tenuously, I also told them that I was looking for a job. They told me, “There is no job. You get the benefit, and we cannot help you with a job.” I said, “Listen, I do not want your benefits. How many times should I tell you this? I want to work.” “No, sorry, there’s no work. You got the benefits. You can look for jobs on the board and call them,” they replied. I said, “Listen, those jobs are not the jobs I’m looking for. I don’t want to flip burgers. I’m not a cleaner or janitor. I studied electronics, so I want you to give me opportunities where I can use my skills.” But they just looked at me mysteriously.
My mother filled my head with her idea of survival, saying, “Take any job they offer you, and then you can move up. You are in a new country, you don’t speak the language—it doesn’t matter which kind of job, take it on.” And I said to myself, and also to her, “No, that’s definitely not going to happen. I studied electronics, and I am not going to flip burgers or clean toilets. This is not what I’m doing, because I have something in my brain, and I also have three years of valuable work experience. I will not sell myself cheap.” My mother said, “No, you are making the wrong choices in a new country with no language. You must take on any job.” So I had plenty of arguments with her on the phone.
But my thinking was different. If I take on a job flipping burgers, in my CV I would have to write that I’ve been flipping burgers. If I go to an interview at a serious company, and it says that I’ve been flipping burgers for the past six months—or they hear that—it does not look good. However, if my last job was in electronics, and I haven’t done anything for six months, I can say I was traveling or I took a sabbatical, and that’s cool. That way, I learned a lesson for life: do not sell yourself cheap.
Anyway, I had my battles at the Job Centre every day. Whenever I went to South Kensington to play my guitar, I would pop into the Putney Job Centre to ask for opportunities. This went on for several weeks: no job, just the same message. “You get the benefits, and after the Austrian government stops sending you the benefits, we’ll give you benefits. There’s no job. There’s nothing we can do.” This was the message all the time.
Now, three months into all this, the benefit from Austria had stopped. Even though I saved every single penny I got from the Austrian government, because practically I lived from busking, I said to myself, “Now is the time where I have to make an impact at the Job Centre.” I went in—this was a Monday morning, I clearly remember—and by then my English vocabulary was up to 50 or 60 words, and grammatically, I was slightly better. I said, “I need a job, and I need a job now.” They looked at me and told me the very same message they’d been telling me for the past two and a half months. But this time, I knew there was going to be trouble.
I said, “Okay, no problem. I am not going anywhere,” and I just sat down next to my guitar in the middle of the Job Centre. Now, that was around 9 in the morning, and by 3 p.m., I was still there, minding my own business. One person came and told me I had to leave, and I said, “No, I am not going anywhere. I need a job, and I need a job now.” Another person came and told me to leave, and I said, “No, I’m not leaving.” She said, “Okay, no problem, I’ll call the police.” I said, “Okay, please call the police. I’m waiting for them.”
I was absolutely determined, and I said to myself, “Only the police will take me out of here today, and if I get arrested for looking for a job, that will definitely make the local newspaper. In fact, maybe even the national newspaper: Young EU citizen from Austria, educated in electronics, got arrested because he did not want to leave the Job Centre while looking for a job. I’m pretty sure if this message hits the national newspaper, I’ll get a job within a second.” So I had absolutely nothing to lose. I was legal in the country, I had a clean sheet, I was not a criminal—I was just simply looking for a job.
If the police came and arrested me for looking for a job, it would be the best headline in the Wandsworth Gazette: “Austrian Rock Star Arrested for Seeking a Job in His Field of Expertise.” If anyone reads this who runs a company dealing with electronics, they will certainly offer me a job. Let alone if a human rights lawyer reads it and does some pro bono work, I will make a fortune out of it. Logically, they never called the police, but they told me multiple times to sod off.
Now, this persistence of mine created a little bit of mayhem among the staff, and all of a sudden, an elderly lady in a grey dress with a grey skirt approached me and said, “Sorry, what are you doing here?” I said, “Ma’am, I am simply looking for a job. I am young, I am strong, I am educated, and I don’t want benefits.” She said, “Okay, come with me and sit down at this table.” One and a half minutes later, after she looked in the computer and scrolled through the screens, she found a job at the National Historic Museum. It was related to electronics, mechanics, audio-visual work, MP3 programming—all the stuff I had either practiced before or at least heard of. I told her, “This is exactly the job I want,” and she said, “No problem.” She printed out the piece of paper, and within three minutes, I was done.
I left the Job Centre, went to South Kensington, picked up my £15 give or take, and went back to show the paper to my ex-girlfriend. I asked her to draft a CV when she had a moment. A couple of days later, the CV was done, and I asked my keeper.