Lucy stood in the queue for signing on for her social welfare payment … the dole. She hated it. Standing there at the hatch and filling in the forms like she had to do every few weeks. It was embarrassing and soul-destroying, with everyone avoiding eye-contact and hoping that they wouldn’t meet someone they knew or went to school or college with. She was grateful that her line wasn’t too busy.
It was bad enough at her age being out of work and trying to find a job, but it was the grey-haired middle-aged men she pitied, and the big strong guys in their thirties. They had not only lost jobs in the construction business but in banking and law firms, and had a constant haunted expression in their eyes. They were lumbered with kids and family and mortgages and loans, and she had utterly no idea how they managed on the government payment they received. She found it hard enough to get by. It was awful not having a job, and she was embarrassed by it.
‘You’ve been paying tax long enough, Lucy. You are only getting back a fraction of what you’ve paid over the years!’ her dad had reminded her. ‘Remember that.’
Dad was right. Since she was about sixteen she had always had some sort of job. Realizing that she really wasn’t academic, she had started working at weekends and on Thursday and Friday evenings, when she probably should have been studying. She’d worked in restaurants, bars, pizza places, clothes shops – and then got involved working at most of the major concerts held in the Point and Oxegen and the RDS and Croke Park and Slane. Hail, rain or shine she’d be there, selling programmes and T-shirts and drinks. U2, Bon Jovi, the Foo Fighters, Snow Patrol, Bob Dylan, and even the Red Hot Chili Peppers; she’d seen them all perform live and loved the buzz of the music and crowds. That’s where she’d got to know Jeremy, who would usually be trying to push some new upcoming singer-songwriter or small band, and she was thrilled when he offered her a job in the shop.
Phoenix Records was just such a cool place she didn’t see how she would ever find anywhere like it to work ever again. Still, beggars can’t be choosers, and at this stage, with a massive overdraft and large credit-card bill, she just had to take whatever job came her way.
Up at hatch 5 she filled in the form.
‘How’s it going, Lucy?’ asked Brian, the guy behind the counter. He was from Tipperary, and being a civil servant had a cushy number, with constant breaks, a guaranteed salary and job security. The social welfare office moved at snail’s pace, with Lucy and the rest of those signing on watching enviously as the staff disappeared for their regulation tea breaks and phone breaks. Still, Brian was a decent enough guy, and used to buy the odd CD from her in Phoenix Records.
‘Nothing doing!’ she sighed. ‘Absolutely nothing.’
‘Well, check in with the FÁS office and see if they have something.’
‘Sure,’ she promised.
The jobs up on the board across the street in the FÁS employment office were poxy, and most involved having qualifications. Employers expected degrees, or all kinds of computer and specialist knowledge, which she did not have.
There was one sign up on the revolving stand for an experienced shop assistant in a new baby and children’s wear shop in Dundrum shopping centre and, taking down the code, she went to enquire about it. Maybe it was the kind of job that might suit her. She could get the bus over to Dundrum, and she liked kids and babies.
‘We filled that position two days ago,’ the girl at enquiries informed her rudely when she gave the code.
‘Then why is it still up?’
‘A mistake, someone forgot to take it down.’
Annoyed, Lucy moved away.
She was heading towards the employment office’s fancy glass doors when she spotted Finn McEvoy. He’d been in college with her and played drums in a rock band that had broken up.
‘Hey, Lucy, I thought it was you,’ called the tall guy in the navy jacket and frayed jeans.
She coloured, then remembered that by virtue of being in the same place they were likely both in the same situation: unemployed and broke.
‘Finn,’ she said, giving him a quick hug. ‘How are things?’
‘Could be better!’ he said. ‘Nothing doing today, by the look of it.’
Lucy felt sympathy for him. He’d been a bit of a swot in college, from what she remembered, very focused on his studies and work.
‘I’ve been working for Browne & Dunne, the big engineering company, for the past three years. But I was put on a three-day week last year, and now with no new jobs or projects coming into the firm I’ve had to sign on. They say when things pick up I can try for my old job back, but to be honest there’s no sign of anything like that happening.’
‘You were in that big glass building down near the docks?’ Lucy asked, impressed.
‘Aidan Brown helped to design it himself. Solar power, the lot. Unfortunately there are two floors of it empty now.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Lucy.
‘I’m just one of many,’ he said, shaking his wavy black hair. ‘What about you?’
‘I worked for Phoenix Records, remember.’
‘That was such a shame they had to shut down,’ he said angrily. ‘I remember they sold about two hundred copies of a CD the band and I made when we were younger. Made us feel like we were a proper band, even though we were only about eighteen.’
‘Jeremy was great at that.’
They began walking through the door, and standing outside realized that despite the winter sunshine it was actually chilly.
‘Do you fancy a coffee?’ he asked. ‘Or are you rushing off somewhere?’
‘Sure, that would be nice.’ She smiled. She had time to kill and it would be better than just hanging around back home.
‘There’s a nice place about two streets away,’ he said, as they fell into step together. ‘And they do a great toasted bacon sandwich. I haven’t even had breakfast yet.’
Lucy watched from the corner of her eyes as Finn tucked into the sandwich, with its layers of bacon, brown sauce, cheese, sausage and tomato. It was a meal in itself, and he wolfed it down.
‘So what do you do with yourself?’ she asked, curious, stirring her mug of tea. ‘Do you still play drums?’
‘Big time!’ He munched. ‘The only good thing to come out of this bloody downturn is that we all have plenty of time to practise and jam and write music, I guess.’
‘Is the band still called STIX?’
‘Hey, you remember!’
‘I saw you guys play a few times.’
‘We’ve put a few new tracks up on Myspace and YouTube and set up our Facebook page. We’ve had lots of downloads already.’
‘That’s great!’ she said admiringly.
‘What about you?’
‘I’m just doing stuff trying to get a job. I used to share a house with some friends, but now I’ve had to move back home.’
‘Bummer.’
‘I’m thinking of doing some kind of course, just to have something to do. Get me out at night!’
‘I can’t imagine that’s a problem for you, Lucy.’
She thought of Josh. There had been no one since him. No dates or nights out! No one special! No one to talk to or care about! She felt suddenly awkward.
‘Hey, I’d better get going,’ she said, pulling her jacket back on. She didn’t really want to buy another pot of tea or anything to eat.
‘Maybe we’ll meet up again,’ Finn teased.
She looked at him. What was he saying?
‘When we’re both signing on again,’ he added.
‘Sure.’ She laughed. ‘And I’ll check your new songs out on Myspace.’