Numbers Game

1 March, 2006
Dear Friends,
I need to explain this to someone. It seems as though no one really understands this number game. Everyone says it’s so good that I’m working, that I’m a good Mum, that I’m not just a welfare mother, how clever I am, what potential I have blah blah blah – bullshit.

If I’d stayed married, things might not be any better. X’s vision was for me to go and clean nursing homes while he stayed home and played his guitar while the babies screamed in the background. I can’t castigate myself now for leaving that marriage.
The second piece of irony – and this one stings – I’ve finally found a job I like and can do, with people I can respect, who respect me. I actually like my job and enjoy it.

What’s so soul-destroying is the numbers game which holds me hostage. And yes – I did blow my entire income tax return last year by going overseas. Again, I get all kinds of messages about how that was a great thing to have done: “It’s the first thing you’ve done for yourself in all these years, and it’s about time you had a holiday.” Bullshit. People like me don’t deserve to go on holidays. We should stay in our little holes and not bother anybody.

Am I profligate with my money? Could I – should I – manage it better? I honestly don’t see how. Food and bills are all I spend it on – the absolute bare minimum basics. I work 18.38 hours each week. If I didn’t go out to work, I might not have more money to spend, but I also would have fewer commitments that demand that I spend money on them. If I have to pay for all-day parking once each week, I earn almost nothing over and above what I’d be getting on welfare alone.

Here is how it works.

I go out to work in a 0.5 fractional position at HEO3 level rates. (It’s an entry-level position. What do I expect – I’m a single mother, unprofessional, at least it’s not a casual job!)

Each fortnight, my pay slip tells me I’ve earned around $600, for which I am taxed $200. About $400 is deposited into my bank account. However, I have to report my gross earnings to Centrelink, who reduce my welfare payment. For the $400 net I earn each fortnight after tax, Centrelink takes another third, leaving me with about $200 in net earnings.

Now, I am extraordinarily lucky to live in government housing. (Imagine if I had to pay private rent?) In addition, because I was clever enough to flee my marriage in 1993, even though it took 14 years to be housed, legislation states that I cannot now be kicked out of my home (which, I have to acknowledge, has got to be a good thing). And I thank my lucky stars each and every day that I live in meek old Adelaide, where “the cost of living” is so very low. Here’s the thing: because I am in government housing, I am not eligible for rent relief from Centrelink.

Rent relief may be a non-issue, but the scaled rental payment for which I am liable each week is significant. If I had nothing but Centrelink payments, I would pay about $80 each week to live in this house. However, because I earn the exorbitant amount of $600+ each fortnight (yes – Housing Trust works out my rental payment according to the gross amount, as does Centrelink), my rent has almost doubled. I pay $151.50 each week.

The difference (I’ll work that out for you) is $71.50 per week. That $71.50 is money that I have earned by going out to work. It is the money I owe the government for living in government housing and earning outside of the government welfare system. It is money over and above the (reduced) Centrelink payment I am handed each fortnight for being a single parent, and it is money over and above the money that is deducted in tax from my pay each fortnight.

Now actually, I receive two Centrelink payments. On the week in between, I receive about $400 for the parenting payment. So my total fortnightly income consists of:



Looks pretty good, doesn’t it. $1,400 per fortnight – that’s $700 per week, for goodness sake. If I can’t raise two teenagers on that amount, there must be something wrong with me. What do I expect – larger government handouts?

Remember, that’s not the real picture. It is, however, the picture that Centrelink, the Housing Trust, the Smith Family and the Salvation look at Army (believe me – I’ve been pushed to beg more than once before, for my groceries).
But I have to explain this to someone. So here’s the real picture:



So that is actually only $500 per week to raise two teenagers. From this amount comes rent, food, petrol, school fees and everything else.

If we take a look at the rental situation in a similar light, it only gets worse.

Here’s how it would be if I didn’t go out and earn.



OK, so I’m $60 in front! Whoopeedoo! What’s the story? Why am I complaining? Why am I depressed? Why am I feeling trapped and in despair? Why don’t I go out and spend that extra $30 each week – live it up, treat myself to something nice?

Let’s look at it another way. If, after all that, I am only $30 per week in front of my welfare entitlements, and I am working 18+ hours each week, that means I am working for the grand sum of $1.66 per hour.

And for that extra $30, I get to be productively occupied with something other than parenting!

So what would I be doing with my time if I didn’t go out to work? I might still be depressed and in despair. I might long to have my days filled with some kind of meaningful productivity other than keeping house. I might have written my novels by now. I might have time to op shopping for the essentials I am forced to buy new, because I don’t have time to op shop, and because my children and I live with the pretence that as a working single mother we can do better. Who knows? It might not be any better. But does that make what we have, all right?

The solution? It’s not my employers’ fault. I knew when I applied for the job, that it was only an HEO3 half-time position. And yes, I probably will get a chunk of this money back at the end of the financial year. (I can see by my payslip that I have already paid $3,238.00 in tax.) But that doesn’t help me pay the bills I have right now. My creditors are not going to be willing to wait for August or September on my promise that I will pay them if and when I get the money back from the government.

I’m bitter and I’m sad. I’m in despair. I see no way out. It’s not a pretty picture.
We aren’t starving. We never will. We have a roof over our heads. We have a car to drive around in. We have furniture to sit on, beds to sleep in. We have so much, yet we have so little.

The solution? Again, it’s a tough one. Obviously, I need to work longer hours, and/or I need a higher-paid position. I cannot begin to calculate what will happen when my son goes onto Youth Allowance in May. That just frightens me even more. I intend to finish my graduate diploma in Education, by taking leave without pay from my job for 5 weeks in May/June, after which I will be qualified to teach. When I did that last year, we managed quite well without any extra income (this should come as no surprise, if you’ve managed to follow what I’ve written here). In the meantime, it is unlikely I’d find a higher-paid job for the next three months that would let me go on leave for five weeks, so I guess I keep on treading water for that $30 per week and believing everything will be all right. Do I want to teach? Not really – I like my part-time office job – but I don’t think I can afford the luxury of choice.

Forgive me if my attitude at work seems deficient. I know it’s not your fault I’m working for $1.66 per hour, but somehow, that doesn’t make me feel any better. I promise to go on doing my best. This is the best I can do.

Yours truly,
Melina Magdalena

P.S. Please note that I have rounded figures both up and down in the above diatribe, which balances itself out, in the end. After all, numbers are just numbers. We’re just one small family trying to make ends meet. And we’re the enemy – the greedy, unscrupulous, welfare dependent ne’er do wells that Australia loves to vilify, and who do not deserve to be heard. However, I am audacious enough to expect, await, and look forward to your response.

© 2006

Report: Meeting with my local MP

Report: Meeting with my local Member of Parliament (MP)

Issue: Workforce Participation for Sole Parents

Attached Below: Original letter sent to politicians and agencies

PLEASE FORWARD THIS IMPORTANT INFORMATION TO ALL THE SOLE PARENTS YOU KNOW

18 March, 2006

Dear Friends,
Yesterday I had an appointment with my local Federal Member of Parliament, Christopher Pyne (Torrens, South Australia). The meeting had not been easy to set up. First I sent a letter (via email), to which I received no reply. A week later, I rang his office, and his diary secretary said she would speak with Christopher and get back to me. A week after that, I rang his office again. This time, his diary secretary told me that the materials I had sent were on his desk, and she hoped he would have a chance to look at them that afternoon. She promised to get back to me after speaking with him to set up an appointment. A week later, I went to his office and told the young man at the front desk that I had been trying for three weeks to get an appointment to speak with Christopher Pyne. He disappeared for several long minutes, and then reappeared, with the diary secretary, who told me “Christopher is happy to meet with you, and he is available next Friday. What time would suit you?”

Advice: It is your right to speak with your MP. Perseverance pays off. Fronting up to the office elicits the most rapid response.

Christopher met me in the meeting room, of his office, a lovely old bungalow on Magill Road in Adelaide. He has the whole building set up as working space. There is no backyard left, it having been converted to a car park, but his indulgence, an old gold bomb-like car, sits in the driveway. The meeting room has two doors, and a window that looks out onto the street. It contains a large, wooden table, with many chairs. I made sure I took a chair that didn’t leave my back to either of the doors.
He asked me why I was there. I said “Did you read my letter?” He said “Well, it would be somewhere out there,” and gestured vaguely toward the other part of his building.

Advice: Bring a copy of your letter and/or documentation with you, when you meet your local politician.

Disappointed that my letter clearly had remained unread, or had made no impact on him, I took him through the ludicrous situation in which I find myself. Briefly, that as a sole parent, I work 18 hours a week on top of parenting, for about $1.66/hour, due to the combination of being taxed, plus having my welfare payment deducted. I explained to him that I had made an error in my letter, believing that Centrelink deducted my pension at the rate of 30¢ in the dollar, when in fact it deducts my pension at 40¢ in the dollar.

I explained to Christopher the impact that this has on me and my children, that I find it and demoralizing and struggle with depression. That it interferes with my creative life. That I prefer to work as well as parent, but this regime interferes with my well-being and ability to create, let alone function. That as a sole parent, I have been unusual in prioritizing my children’s extra-curricular activities, and ensuring they live a life as close to ‘normal’ as possible, but that as they have gotten older, this has become untenable. I empty my bank account each week just with paying out for the basic things of life: food, rent, car and school expenses.

I told Christopher that since sending my letter, I had received a response from Centrelink, who had been contacted by Joe Hockey (NSW), one of the politicians to whom I had sent the letter. Centrelink investigated my file and discovered an anomaly which meant I was owed arrears in the order of $565. I told Christopher that receiving this money had been a wonderful surprise, but it didn’t solve my problem.

I told him that the $565 enabled me to pay off my outstanding debt to my mechanic, to pay a chunk off the school fees I owe for my children (both at a state high school), and that I would now be able to buy some new underwear for myself, and my daughter. He laughed at this, but I was serious. I hadn’t been able to afford to replace my underwear, which has been getting progressively shabbier by the week.

Christopher wanted to know the age of my children, and what school they go to. He said that his children go to Burnside Primary School, and agreed with me that yes, even state schools charge fees. He asked me how long I had been a sole parent. I said I had left my marriage in 1993. He said “Thirteen years? Your daughter must have been very small then.” I said “Yes, she was still breastfeeding at the time.”

He agreed with me that the situation is ludicrous, and went to pains to let me know I was not telling him anything he didn’t already know. He said I am obviously a good mum, to which I responded “Well there’s no doubt that I’m a good mother, but that’s not really the point.”

Christopher Pyne then went into politician-mode and confided to me that conditions for sole parents and the Welfare to Work platform of his Liberal Party, is a political issue, with which Labor disagrees. He said it’s something the Liberal Party wants to deal with, in order to take away any ammunition from the Labor Party. I said to Christopher Pyne that as far as I am concerned, it’s more about the people whose lives are being affected by these punitive regimes.

Christopher Pyne said to me that the issue of Welfare to Work is very important to Peter Costello, and that it is being looked at right now. He said that there may be something good for me coming out in this year’s budget, and that Peter Costello would prefer to make tax cuts for those people on the low end of the tax bracket, than for those who earn over $100,000 per annum.

He mentioned the idea of increasing the Tax Free Threshold to $20,000. I said that I have heard welfare groups talk about this as a possible solution to the problem. I said however, that I am happy to pay tax. I am tired of sole parents being referred to as a drain on the tax payer, because we pay a lot of tax. What I don’t think is fair, is the way the government dips into my income twice and deducts 70% of my earnings every fortnight, leaving me barely able to maintain my household at a decent living standard.

Christopher changed the subject. He wanted to know whether I had any connection with the Women’s Centre at St Peters, which he used to “help”, after it had had its budget slashed by the State Government. He told me that everyone there voted Labor, but that didn’t stop him from helping them. Now that he has children of his own, however, Christopher has no loose money, and so he no longer helps out the women’s centre.

When Christopher so callously complained of having “no loose money” due to the fact that he now has three children and a wife to maintain, I realised he had not heard me at all when I spoke of my life, in which I am unable to afford to buy new underwear, or my fear of having two bright teenagers for whose higher education I have been unable to save a single cent. Though a quick browse on the internet does not bring the exact figures to light, I am certain that Christopher Pyne earns at least six times what I do each week.

I feel ashamed that I did not manage to come out with the words that I had rehearsed, in preparation for my meeting with Christopher Pyne. I had planned to ask him how he thought his lovely wife would cope, raising their lovely children on the kind of income on which my children and I subsist. Alas, he was already out of his chair, ushering me toward the second door in his meeting room which turned out to lead directly to the street. “You’ve done what you could,” he said to me, “in coming to see your local politician.”

If the Tax Free Threshold is raised to $20,000 per annum, I think life for me may become a little easier. However, I still fear for my future, and the future of my children, who are about to be faced with becoming numbers themselves, in the system, as they go from being my children to being Youth Allowance recipients and themselves having to report their every move to Centrelink. This will determine many aspects of their future, such as what kind of job they choose, whether they are able to go to university and where, as well as what kind of housing they can afford when they eventually leave home.

As for me, with my meager superannuation savings, despite voluntary contributions, I can really only hope to die young, and be grateful that my HECS debt will not be taken out of whatever estate I have to leave my children, because it would surely bankrupt them before they have even begun. As it is, I cannot even afford my own funeral yet, so I’d better not begin to plan it just yet.

Yours truly,

Melina Magdalena
© 2006