Name: Mick Smart

Age: 32

Turning point: Was injured falling down a retaining wall as a work-for-the-dole contractor. He now suffers chronic pain and mobility issues and is unable to find work.

Lives: Lakes Entrance, Victoria

After housing costs, has to live on: $245 a week

The old saying goes “doing the right thing is never easy”, and while this has been one of the most difficult times of my life – full of tragedy, trauma, pain, anger and disbelief – to rise above it and fight to do the right thing regardless of personal cost also makes it one of the most rewarding times of my life.



In November I spoke via teleconference during a Senate inquiry into employment services system Jobactive, recollecting my various experiences with employment providers, Centrelink, my injuries during work for the dole and how they have changed my life. How they left me with mobility issues, physical limitation and pain, robbed of dignity and self-worth while battling to correct and avoid countless cases of clerical error that often resulted in payment suspensions, demerits, all while unable to afford specialist health services, let alone cover rent, bills, fuel and food, all without ever receiving so much as an apology, any accountability, or even the recognition of my ongoing physical and mental health issues for the last three years.

Life on the breadline: $4.50 on a coffee? Who can afford that? | Amethyst DeWilde Read more

In mid-November my partner Marnie and I moved into our friend’s spare room – a temporary situation until we find an affordable rental or someone willing to sell us a caravan cheaply. However life had different plans. Our friend’s pet and emotional support companion Phoebe – a four-year-old red kelpie rescued from a sheep farm – was hit by a car just a week after we had moved in. We were unpacking when we heard the dreaded “bang-crash-yelp” as she was struck.



With the help of neighbours, we rushed her to the local vet, but regional services are mostly unprepared and ill-equipped for both animal and human trauma cases. Even the local hospital doesn’t carry blood, and there being no transportation service to the nearest after-hours emergency animal hospital four hours away, the only option was to leave her to be stabilised and monitored overnight, returning home with our friend to wash the blood from our face and clothes, shaken, worried and powerless.

Marnie and I are animal lovers, somewhat fresh from the trauma of losing her puppy who was hit by a car not too long ago, which is partially why we were so driven to help our friend, apart from the fact it was also the right thing to do. Coincidentally we had arrived just when we were needed most, since our friend cannot drive long distances or at night due to epilepsy and her medications, so first thing next morning with my walking cane, pain meds and a water bottle at the ready, we made the four-hour drive into Melbourne to save her pup.

All too familiar financial barriers went into play that somewhat mirrored my own experiences, as our friend had to call friends, family and various pet charities to cover the cost for her admission, surgery and aftercare, scrounging and begging in order to save a life. Meanwhile I had emptied my bank account to cover food and transport, and Marnie had to take out an advance payment to pay for a hotel across from the vet for two night’s stay, since my back couldn’t handle the constant back-and-forth travel and it took us that long to negotiate costs, even to the point where I offered my vehicle as collateral.

Facebook Twitter Pinterest Mick and Marnie in their car at one of Lakes Entrance’s beaches. Photograph: Chris Hopkins

Come mid-December, Marnie received a trial-by-fire shift at the local hotel bistro – her first potential job in almost two years since moving to Victoria. After rave reviews she has been working there for over a month now, through the holidays, trying to get ahead and save, dig our way out of the poverty trap, as it’s called.



While during the holiday season we were unable to afford gift giving, or to travel and see family, the new year brings new possibilities and with it a huge silver lining. Six weeks into Phoebe’s recovery, she is our happy, healthy, somewhat disabled little girl, able to play, eat and go to the bathroom on her own. She has even adapted to mobility on two legs, though she still requires a fair amount of work, supervision, feeding, bathing, diaper changes and physiotherapy. Still, we helped to save a life and that is no small feat.



An unforeseen consequence of Marnie working through the holidays means we no longer receive full benefits. So she basically works to fill the gap on what we would be earning if she was unemployed, which is a fairly strange realisation, however the consensus seems to be that social security payments are designed as a safety net to catch you before you hit rock bottom, not to help you climb your way back out of the hole.

Life on the breadline: 'My fate seems woven into the policy debate' Read more

This month has helped to concrete a rather sad realisation: that often “we” as a society are willing to let those of lower social standing suffer based on class, status, appearance and the contents of their bank account, balancing the value of one life over another. This one example with Phoebe highlights a situation where regardless of there being the staff, equipment, means and resources, she suffered because money is the ultimate motivator and often trumps morality.

Meanwhile, I continue chasing specialist services through the public health system, delaying multiple surgeries and continuing my own treatment regime. I’ve been working on 3D design and animation materials for the Australian Unemployed Workers’ Union, taught myself to sew, and created a custom-designed harness and temporary wheelchair for Phoebe from parts found at the local tip.

It has been good to feel useful, relied upon and devoted to helping our fuzzy friend despite being sleep-deprived. Nothing worth doing is ever easy, and everyone deserves a chance at health and happiness.