Centrelink Visit

In my journalism degree, I have been taught the skill of observing. Simply looking at your surroundings and taking in what's going on. What better place to observe than a centrelink office. I'm sitting in the front row of a row of four. The rows behind me are filled with many interesting and diverse types. You have the pregnant mother with a fresh baby in a pram. You have the bogan teenage couple wearing gangsta hats with an array of horrible tatoos, complete with the southern cross of course. You have the elderly woman who is sitting there silently pondering deeply about who knows what. Then you have the broke uni students, of which I'm unfortunately a part of. There's nothing about this experience that is slightly enjoyable. The weather is miserable outside, so the building has an aroma of dampness infused with body odour. The unbearable tunes of Shannon Noll on the annoying speaker above my head is the icing on the cake. Current waiting time: 25 minutes. Who knows how long it will take, I don't, the staff who sit there twiddling their thumbs don't, the government has no idea either. I shouldn't complain, as the piddly assistance I do receive from this godforsaken system provides me with the privilege to buy raspberries on the odd occasion, but seriously Australian government, you need to take a long hard look at this so called assistance system you provide. I know I've only mentioned the horrible atmosphere of a centrelink office, but that's just the tip of the iceberg.