Coronavirus: Unimaginable pain as jobless spill out onto the streets

Celeste Mather fought back tears as she stood in a long line outside the Centrelink office, one of thousands of people forced to queue for emergency assistance.

Desperate and jobless: newly unemployed workers line up at Centrelink in Surry Hills, Sydney, after the MyGov website crashed. Picture: John Feder

Celeste Mather fought back tears as she stood in a long line outside the Centrelink office, one of thousands of people forced to queue for emergency assistance after ­becoming an economic victim of the coronavirus downturn.

Such was the demand for assistance from those thrown on to the jobless queues by the emergency shutdown of clubs, pubs, casinos and cafes, as the government sought to curb the spread of the virus, that the MyGov website was overwhelmed and crashed, forcing people into the street.

Ms Mather, who had been working at a high-end inner-­Sydney fashion boutique, had been seeking assistance because her hours had been cut back.

Then the axe fell completely.

“My manager just rang me and told me I’d lost my job,” the 21-year-old said. 

Newly unemployed retail assistant Celeste Mather, 21, fights back tears as she waits in line at a Centrelink office in Sydney. Picture: Jane Dempster

“When I lined up at Centrelink this morning, I had nine casual hours locked in for next week. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

“Now that I know I’m officially unemployed, the panic is starting to set in. I never expected to find myself at Centrelink, but at least I know it’s just not me. Everyone is being impacted.”

Around the country, people scrambling to lodge claims and apply for emergency assistance queued for hours outside Centrelink offices. They were ushered inside in groups of five by stony-faced security guards who struggled to maintain order as people from all walks of life arrived in droves, clutching their CVs and wearing face masks.

The MyGov website was overwhelmed by the unprecedented spike in demand for assistance. Support had been nearly doubled as part of Scott Morrison’s $66bn economic rescue package, after the Prime Minister announced the forced closure of the nation’s bars, clubs, casinos, cinemas, gyms and churches.

Government Services Minister Stuart Robert initially claimed a malicious cyber attack prevented thousands of Australians who had lost their jobs from accessing Centrelink online.

He was forced to backtrack two hours later, admitting there was “no evidence of a specific ­attack” and the government had prepared only for 55,000 concurrent users of MyGov while 95,000 Aus­tralians ­attempted to access it at the same time.

There were also fewer staff at Centrelink shopfronts to comply with the government’s indoor ­social distancing rule of one person per four square metres.

Mr Robert later described the delays in accessing the site as an “outage”, and pledged to expand the number of people able to use MyGov at once. He said the government was searching for “as many call centre staff as is possible” to hire over the coming days.

Centrelink urged people not to attend its office and instead re­directed them to the website. 

“If you’re already getting a payment that is eligible for the economic support payment (2 x $750) or the coronavirus supplement ($550 a fortnight), you do not need to do anything, you’ll get paid automatically. Please do not call or visit us,” the agency said.

“If you don’t currently get an income support payment and you need help because you’ve lost your job or had your income reduced, please start your claim online.”

Mr Morrison told the House of Representatives the demand for welfare was “unimaginable”, and more pain would come. “Across Australia today, many thousands of Australians will lose their jobs. They are lining up at Centrelink offices as we speak,” he said, “something unimaginable at this scale only weeks ago. They have lost their jobs … and we know many more will. This is the biggest economic shock our nation has faced in generations.”

It was not the message of hope for which many were holding out.

People were reduced to tears at Sydney’s Bondi Junction after police ordered them to go as Centrelink staff tried to close at 5pm. 

At inner-city Surry Hills, a sense of camaraderie emerged. At one point, a group of university students set up a portable speaker and started playing Gloria Gaynor’s I Will Survive.  One woman grabbed an older woman’s hand and they danced down the packed street to cheers and laughs. 

The respite, though, was brief, with the prospect of long-term unemployment becoming more real as the line of people snaked further around the block by mid afternoon. Albert Ruan, 27, was ­officially laid off from his job as a chef at Alpha Greek Restaurant in Sydney after the federal government banned restaurant dining from midday on Monday. 

Within a few hours, he was on the MyGov website trying to figure out how to apply for un­employment benefits, but every time he clicked, the loading wheel would endlessly circle until the screen crashed.

“I’ve been preparing for this since last Thursday,” Mr Ruan said. “We knew it was going to bad when management sat us down, but it’s still ­pretty gut-wrenching to find out we’ve all lost our jobs.”

Hospitality worker Jonathan Acevedo queued outside an overflowing Centrelink office in Sydney’s Redfern for two hours before he resigned himself to coming back on Tuesday.

“I really didn’t want to come down here and line up,” the 39-year-old said. “I’ve never been on welfare or without a job. I feel as if I’m letting down my daughter.” 

Additional reporting: Rachel Baxendale