by blanchi mc callion

Created on: July 02, 2008

Imagine waking up one day and realising you slap the hand you origionally set out to help. The helper with the alterior motive maybe? Nah. The helper with hidden issues? Nah, the power tripper? Nah, Oh my god I have it...... The helper in the wrong career, or wrong job right career persay.....Christ how can someone change so much in so little time. Such a long time and so little change. There I'm writing in riddles, its taking over, destent to fail and set up to fall. Thats my life, my career and my job. You must have guessed by now what I do. I am a child protection social worker who doesn't protect any children. I am the parent hater the child loather, the society wrecker and the one who cant take their finger out of their own ass.

So here I am.... Stuck in a rutt of hate in a building of social workers who are the most unsocialable see you next Tuesdays I've ever met. Gone are the days of the helping social woorker, welcome to the society of masters degrees where when one qualifies one makes the most money. Daddy pays the fees and gives the pocket money for their little angels to go out and be little helpers to poor children and starving children in the thrid world. Their little darlings who shade disabled children from the sun with the pams of their hands and who when drunk on a Saturday night in town can say "oh my god theres one of my clients" to make themselves feel better about themselves and to make society think they like their job.

Cycinal maybe but when working with these people one cant help but think that pr is missing some of the most talented people in the world.

A typical day in my career can ivolve around talking about how overworked we are and how much our department lacks in resources. We then tred the people we meet who hate the ground we walk on. We sit for an hour and tell them how crap they are while they imagine breaking a bottle on our heads and then theres the dreaded summary of the "chat" at which point we tell them were taking their children or their free to f875 off back to live in squaller for a few more months. I then say thank you I'll be in touch as the missile is realised from their hands to crush my head in an instant. With my head gone I wave goodbye with my shell as they leave for the sunset of tescos suckin on an imported cheap cigerette. I thought Porta Rico was in America.

So there it is im sorry i regret i love i hate im hated and loved i wanted i dont want im together im focked up. and my friend i give you a day in the life of a social service lemming ....

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