The cone of shame

Today I’m wearing the cone of shame. And it’s only 10.15am.

The direct payments police came round to ‘help’ me with my returns.

Now what does this mean? Direct payments? Returns? This… for those of you who are not familiar with this area, is about our CARE PACKAGE.  LB gets funding to cover the combination of services he is assessed to need.  So we get this funding in a dedicated bank account, use it to pay for someone to look after LB, and have to fill in forms accounting for what is spent, the interest earned and so on.

This is the bit I’ve failed on.

And this is why I’ve spent the last hour sitting at the kitchen table while some man in a suit has filled in the forms for me, while glaring LOSER at me every few seconds.  After highlighting the bits I have to sign with an enormous yellow highlighter pen AND a big biro cross, we are done.

“Oh, just one more thing Sarasiobhan, you loser”, he said. “You need to take out employer liability insurance. It’s £99 a year”.  Another form. Another swipe with the highlighter pen AND a big biro cross.

It’s over.

I walk him to the door.  “You do realise our care package is for four hours care a month?”

“Yes,” he replied.

“That is £40 a month.”

“Yes,” he said, and walked over to his car.

“Ok”.

I shut the door and go to file the paperwork neatly.

Postscript: I made that last sentence up.

2 thoughts on “The cone of shame

  1. People like that make me soooo angry. You should not feel ashamed, its not as if you have all day, everyday of sitting in your office to sit and do these things – ignorant git!!

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