Saturday 3 July 2010

What is it really like being a public servant?

The new budget  with its austerity measures has generated a lot of talk about the pros and cons of working in the public service.  It has been said that public servants were insulated from the effects of the recession.  Their position has been contrasted with that of those in the private sector, particularly bankers, who in some cases during the  recession lost their jobs or had their pay frozen.   It has  been said that it is finally time for public servants to feel the pain of the downturn.  Accordingly, the public sector is being reduced, a two-year public sector pay freeze has been introduced and all government departments are having to make significant cut-backs. 

Austerity measures in all areas of the economy, even the public service, are probably necessary.  I confess that I think that many of the cuts being made in the public service right now are poorly thought out, unfocussed and unhelpful.  But I won't bore you with my views on the economy.  Instead I thought I'd give you a taste of what it is like being a public sector lawyer, because it isn't all beer and skittles.  I confess that this post is, really, just a bit of a rant. I'm not going to tell you about the parts of my job that I enjoy, because that would defeat the purpose of having a rant.

I spend an enormous amount of time traveling.   A lot of the time I'm traveling for  morning meetings, usually in the Midlands, and so find myself boarding a train in London at 6 or 7 am.  I'm normally struggling with a suitcase or two of files.  The government has a strict security policy, meaning I can't ever leave my files unattended for risk of losing my job.  Traveling in the relative luxury of first class I could sit in the train, order breakfast and have it brought to me, keeping my cases on the (usually) empty seat next to me.   Unfortunately, first class travel privileges have now been removed from us.  So, short of getting up at 5 am, breakfast is now usually skipped.  It is  virtually impossible to grab breakfast at the station in the morning (try juggling a coffee, bagel, two suitcases and boarding a train).  I also try not to drink any water or fluid.  This is because if I go to the loo on the train, I have to take my cases with me.  In contrast to the first class toilet cubicles, the standard class toilet cubicles are pretty small and usually I can't fit along with my cases in there.   By the time I reach my destination at 10 am or so, I'm normally struggling with a caffeine-deprivation and dehydration headache.  But in the scheme of things, that's okay. I can cope with that. 

It is the return journey I really hate.  I never know what time my meetings will finish and so have open return tickets, meaning I don't have a pre-booked seat.   Standard Class is much, much busier than First Class.  It's not unusual now for me to find I can't get a seat on the train.  At worst, I'll find myself standing for most, or even all, of a return journey to London.  At best I will find myself nursing my cases on my lap while others stand in the aisles or sit on the floor of the train.  The other day I boarded a train at Leicester and found that the only seat available had a dog on it.  The luggage rack next to me was also full.  This meant that I ended up sitting on the dog's seat with the dog on my lap and my suitcase where my feet ought to have been.  I don't blame the fellow sitting next to me who owned the dog- he couldn't take his dog on his lap as he had even more luggage than me and had a case at his feet and two more on his lap.  To be perfectly honest, I was actually relatively happy with the arrangement;  the dog was an 18-month old black poodle so I spent the next two hours playing with it.  But next time it may be a rottweiler/pit-bull cross I have to contend with. 

Our office's move to open plan seating and hotdesking has also happened in anticipation of budget cuts.  I won't even begin to pretend I enjoy smelling the farter's farts, overhearing colleagues' phone conversations or smelling their lunch.  Having to wipe down a keyboard and desk with disinfectant wipes before using it is also not fun. 

But I really shouldn't complain; I have it easy.  I work with great people (the farter not counted amongst them) and have a relatively low-stress job.  But not all public servants are in this position. 

I frequently attend prisons in the course of my work.  The prison officers are amazing people, many of whom regard their job as being not just about discipline but also as having a social work aspect to it.  The care these officers show for the prisoners, the hours they work and the lousy pay they receive mean that I have the utmost respect for them.  I could not do their job.  

I was  shown around HMP Wormwood Scrubs by two officers last week.  They showed me through healthcare, which is where prisoners with health issues (largely mental health issues) or those who are at real risk of suicide or self-harm are housed.  The prisoners were on association, meaning that they were out of their cells.  As we walked through the central communal area, one of the prisoners said to the female prison officers I was with: "miss, miss - excuse me miss - you are standing in blood.  You are all standing in a prisoner's blood there".  We looked down and, sure enough, we were standing in a pool of blood left by someone who had just been taken away after a self-harm incident.  The prison officer was completely unfazed and calmly led us out of the pool of blood.  

This is the sort of thing they have to deal with all the time - prisoners self-harming and even killing themselves in prison.  I certainly couldn't do it.  The really amazing thing is that these officers will often volunteer their own free time in the interests of helping prisoners: the  budget cuts mean that they don't always have staff on duty when they need them, so sometimes officers they will overstay their shifts.  I have even met one prison officers who volunteered her Saturday's to come into the prison to do acupressure treatment on prisoners who wanted it.  

I think the starting salary for prison officers is around 17,000 pounds.  It goes up as they do their time and move through the ranks.   And if they are getting paid, at the top levels, in the region of 40,000 - 70,000 then  it just means that they have managed to survive in that job for quite some time and they deserve every penny of that salary and probably a lot more. 

Maybe public servants have, until now, been relatively immune to the effects of the downturn in the economy.  But I think it is also true that public servants were immune to the upturn in the economy during boom time.  They never shared in the rewards that those in the private sector received during that period.  But they are certainly suffering now.
Rant over.

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