'I've used a tree's worth of paper for CVs to no avail'

HARD TIMES: The generation who emerged from college a year ago and were told they would walk into jobs are among thousands of…

HARD TIMES:The generation who emerged from college a year ago and were told they would walk into jobs are among thousands of new welfare claimants signing on in Limerick

IT’S JUST after eight o’clock on a frosty midweek morning and already a queue of people is forming on Dominic Street.

An hour or so later and the long line that stretches around the large red-bricked building is joined by dozens of cars parked illegally on Cedric Street, their yellow hazard lights blinking in the half-light.

It’s a sign of the times at Limerick city’s main social welfare office. Once it might take a few minutes to sign on. These days, people will arrive as early as possible to avoid the mid-morning queue which can involve waiting for an hour or so.

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One of those waiting outside in the spitting rain is Stephen, a well-spoken 24-year-old graduate from the University of Limerick.

He is part of a new wave of welfare claimants with third-level qualifications which has swelled numbers signing on at the office by about 80 per cent over the past year. “When I signed up to do the course, the economy was booming.

“There were jobs everywhere. I chose finance because I thought there’d be a good chance of a good career, a good job, a good wage . . . but here I am,” says Stephen, nodding at the crowds gathered inside the doorway.

“Some of my friends got jobs out of college and were made redundant six or seven weeks later. The banks just panicked . . . now, with all the lay-offs, we’re competing for jobs with people who have years of experience. That makes things even harder.”

There’s also a simmering anger among well-educated young people who were told they were part of a generation which never had it so good, that they would have opportunities never dreamed of by previous generations. Now, all that talk has evaporated.

Cathal and his girlfriend Eileanóir, both 21, were going to art college at Limerick Institute of Technology until recently. Now, they’re drawing the dole for the first time.

“This time last year I had big plans,” says Cathal. “Get a good job, put some money away, get a few holidays while I’m still young. That’s all gone, now. You can’t even save money now.”

Eileanóir, who lost her minimum wage job at a local shop, has been waiting 15 weeks without payment to have her welfare claim processed.

“I managed to save little bits from my job and spend as little as possible.

“You get the cheapest bread, groceries, drinks. You wait that bit longer for something like a haircut. You try to do everything at home. It feels despairing at times; I’d say I’ve used a tree’s worth of paper for CVs to no avail.”

Chris (22), who completed a diploma in computing, is learning what it’s like to live at home after a couple of years of independence.

He was working at Dell last year, before being let go. “I’m not alone. Six of my seven friends are in the same boat as I am . . . we never thought this was what lay ahead of us. We try to keep our minds off it by playing sport and just keeping busy.”

Inside the grey-tiled welfare office, hundreds of people are queuing at almost 20 hatches. A poster on a notice board in the corner reads: “TEFL jobs abroad – get paid to travel!”

Upstairs, manager Jim Lynch is overseeing the operation of the centre. He has never seen the kind of numbers which have been flooding into the welfare office this month.

“We’re struggling to cope even as we speak,” Lynch says. “We used to have around 250 claims a week. Last week, we had just over 600.”

Even during the boom years the numbers signing on here were higher than average, due mainly to the high concentration of sprawling social housing estates. Now numbers are increasing at a frightening rate.

In the past two or three months, he has seen a shift with more young professionals and college graduates signing on than ever.

“They’re from all backgrounds; engineering, solicitors firms, accountants, people we’ve never seen before,” he says.

“What’s most worrying is that things will get worse before they get better.”

The first round of almost 2,000 lay-offs from Dell is due to begin in April.

Moreover, there are thousands of other jobs at risk in the region in firms that are dependent on Dell for business.

“We’re not anticipating things will get any better and the current rates of unemployment will continue, in the short term at least,” Lynch says. “But our staff here are reacting to very challenging times and everyone’s working to the optimum, and that expertise is tremendous.”

Outside the office, Sarah Moylan (37) has arrived for the third time this morning to sort out a welfare claim.

A qualified architect, she has just returned from more than a decade in the US to find work here, but there are problems establishing if she’s entitled to welfare benefits. Nevertheless, she’s defiantly upbeat.

“I knew things were bad, but didn’t realise they were this bad,” says Moylan, joking.

“I hope this won’t be a long term thing and I don’t think it will. There’s a great sense of community still, and that’s kind of what brought me back.

“I just try to keep the optimism going that there’ll be something down the road.”

Carl O'Brien

Carl O'Brien

Carl O'Brien is Education Editor of The Irish Times. He was previously chief reporter and social affairs correspondent