Earlier on

We had very few visitors at the historic house today (three plus two plus one, a total of six). I enjoyed playing too, particularly as the weather had improved so much on this morning. One lady liked my playing, so my time there wasn't wasted.
I went to the workhouse afterwards. It was just as horrible as I'd expected. The person talking was right-in-yer-face. She talked continuously for over an hour. It did my head in, and after a short while I didn't actually hear what she was saying. All I heard was her voice. I felt very agitated and tense. Then she called people out individually, and muggins was first. She didn't say why she called me (a big mistake; I didn't feel like co-operating), but it turned out that we had to introduce ourselves. I felt sick and upset afterwards, and my head started to pound.
During the break one of the workhouse staff saw me in the corridor, and told me I could leave. I didn't want telling twice.
The 'employer' of free labour is looking for happy, smiley, gregarious people to operate the rides and show people around. I'm definitely not the right person for that. The very idea of it fills me with dread. I wouldn't last five minutes.

Limbo

I desperately want a job, but have always had issues around work. With the exception of my last job, there has always come a point where I am no longer able to cope, so I hand in my notice, only to find myself unemployed afterwards. The only exception to this was my last job. I hated it, and suffered twelve years of mental and emotional hell. Many were the times that I could have got up and walked out on the spot, but there were other considerations which prevented me from doing so.
The issues have invariably been in connection with the people I've had to work with. What happens is that the people are such a problem that it affects me emotionally. The feeling stays with me day and night, and makes my life thoroughly miserable. I drank to excess to try and cope with the feelings.
I didn't know then that there were other people out there who felt like I did. Nor did I know that there was a name for how I felt.
I am desperate for a proper diagnosis, so that I can get the type of support I need to get into some meaningful employment. The thought of 'colleagues' is an obstacle to what I really want to do. The truth is that I don't want to work with anyone, but expect the chances of that are extremely remote.
Apparently we live in a modern, civilised country, where the best of healthcare is available. Apparently it is, somewhere, at some point in the unspecified future, but you try getting it.
This shabby, inadequate service provision is also demeaning to the poor professionals who have to deliver it. The issue is not with them. It is with the people who earn huge salaries for managing (or rather mismanaging) the service.