Why is that? "The world is stressed.''

There are six people in the bakery, two of them behind the counter - and this appears to be the busiest spot in Station Street.

There's a bustle in the supermarket carpark down and around the corner, but here, in what was traditionally the centre of downtown Seymour, a feeling of abandonment holds sway. The other shops appear empty or in a quiet state of waiting. One of them boldly proclaims: "EMPLOYMENT''.

It's a labour hire business, Netgain. The reception area is empty, the walls are undecorated, and certainly bare of jobs on offer. One of the two office workers says there's not a lot going, mainly cleaning, hospitality and "a bit of driving''.

Most of the cleaning jobs are out at the Puckapunyal army base, and you have to be an Australian citizen to work there. The worker sees "a lot of downcast kids coming in'' and going away even more so.

Lisa Wemyss, 51, grew up in Seymour, population 6360 (2011 census). For this township, stress means a lack of opportunity. Lisa Wemyss remembers the railway jobs that went in the `80s, the Buttercup factory, the dye factory that followed soon after. Where once there were jobs aplenty in Seymour, during the past 30 years most of the work, meaningful or at least sustaining, has died.

"The kids either go away for work or they languish,'' she says.

Her grown children left town to be educated and found good jobs. One of her sons, a plumber, announced he was coming home recently. She told him he had to find a local job first. "I'd rather burn my couch than have the kids lie on it,'' she says.

Seymour, an hour up the highway from Melbourne's northern suburbs, has a higher-than-average unemployment rate - 7.6 per cent according to 2011 Australian Bureau of Statistics figures. Youth unemployment sits at 17.5 per cent, according to the Brotherhood of St Laurence's analysis of bureau figures published in February.

The several hundred people who make up these statistics in Seymour would have to apply for 40 jobs a month under the federal government's plan to get the jobless off welfare. The government is back-pedalling on the plan because of a backlash flavoured with ridicule.

But consider this: Rebecca Bennett, 22, already calls and emails 10 businesses a fortnight, or 20 a month, fulfilling a requirement to make these "job contacts''  to qualify for her Newstart allowance of $519 a fortnight. In a year Rebecca contacts the same businesses again and again, asking if they have "anything at all.''

In recalling how she's heard the words "no'' and "sorry'' so many times, Rebecca sounds a little dazed, as if she's walked into a wall - which is precisely the case. She is one of those "downcast kids'' who came asking for a cleaning job at Netgain, but was "told I wasn't suitable''.

Although Rebecca holds onto a dream of working in the law - she dares not say the word "lawyer'' - she pursued another love, and completed a certificate in early childhood development. That was two years ago, and she's been looking for a job in childcare in the district ever since.

You might helpfully suggest: What about work experience? That's what she's been doing for the past two years: working for free, two days a week at a local centre. She tells you this in a voice that holds no defensive tone, no bitterness. She loves the kids, she holds on to hope.

What about commuting to Melbourne? A return train ticket, concession, is $14. Rebecca pays $180 of her allowance to her mother, Sarah, by way of bed and board. Sarah hasn't worked for 14 years and was shocked to hear that in Joe Hockey's Budget, Rebecca will be paid the Newstart allowance for only six months of the year.

"We'd struggle,'' she says, as if struggling was something new.

Another Abbott government initiative will have Rebecca working 25 hours a week for the dole.

What this means in practical terms, no one really knows. Working for the dole is being tried throughout the country and, contrary to widespread belief, isn't a fully operational strategy. It gets confused with "Centrelink participants'' who do volunteer work for charity groups, either to "pay back'' something to the community or to gain some work training.

For example, St Vincent de Paul opportunity shops are often staffed by dole-recipient volunteers seeking retail experience. At the little shop in Hamilton - in the state's west, where two hotels have been left standing empty and a number of shops recently closed - eight volunteers are hoping their in-house training will get them a job. Shop manager, Sue, said one person recently got a job, which was seen as a big win.

Hazel Maynard, who runs the Victorian volunteer program for St Vinnies says the shop in Dandenong, a suburb in which 5000 to 6000 people are unemployed, has a large roster of Centrelink participants hoping to get a break in the wider world.

"Many of the older people stay on, because they like it,'' said Ms Maynard. "But the younger ones are all hoping to move on and find work.''

While the Centrelink participation scheme provides some basic training and gives participants a small chance of getting a mainstream job, working for the dole, on the face of it, is more an exercise of dragging so-called bludgers off their hard-rubbish couches. It is an exercise steeped in paperwork, requiring reporting and supervision similar to that provided by community groups, such as the Salvation Army, which  help with community-based orders. Hold that thought.

There are positions vacant at the local club for experienced gaming staff, advertised on the lighted billboard that also advertises meal specials. Online at seek.com.au, there's a job for an employment consultant with one of the four Job Services Australia franchises in Seymour. One wonders if the recently departed consultant died of heartache.

Jobs Services Australia is a federal government initiative that finds work and education "pathways'' for disadvantaged job seekers, including the mentally ill and homeless - and notably people in country towns. The actual work is tendered out to labour hire companies and non-profit organisations.

The Sunday Age met a JSA consultant in Seymour, a man who looks eternally weary in a Jesus fashion, who said he wasn't allowed to talk to the media, but did so anyway.

"Unemployment is very lonely,'' he said. "It's lonely if you have family to look after. It's lonely if you're on your own.''

He said the people he sees - several dozen, once a fortnight - all bring their own special sack of problems, all requiring individual attention. He tells the story of a local boy who wanted to learn a trade but couldn't get into the TAFE course without a job. The consultant found another type of college where the boy was able to "end up with better qualifications than an apprentice". This may not have necessarily got the lad a job, but it got him somewhere.

Work for the dole may achieve that for some people, the consultant said, but for many of his clients "I'm going to have to say, 'Look, make this as happy and comfortable as we can, while we keeping looking for a job.' ''

In other words, people at the coalface will largely regard working for the dole as something that requires going through the motions, with no great expectation that it achieves anything. More than that, it will simply add to the workload.

"And who is going to administer it?'' he said. "The local football club might welcome a dozen people helping out, but they're not going to fund supervision. The reporting side of my job is ... not insignificant.''

Seymour, he said, has a courthouse that sends a certain number of people to the local Salvation Army to do their penance in the form of community-based orders. Can the Salvos take on the 200 to 200 unemployed locals and set them to work painting fences?

Dr Bruce Redman is the Salvation Army's territorial media relations director. He says: "Of course not ... there's a lot of effort in getting people organised and mobilised, and the paperwork aspect is substantial

"We'd like to be part of the consulting process, because we have experience in this area. But there's been no indication of that.''

Dr Redman also voiced an opinion that's already been shouted out loud: "A one-size-fits-all solution to unemployment just isn't going to work.''

What does Rebecca Bennett think about working for the dole? She doesn't say much at all, as if this is one more thing beyond her agency. "I'd like to move from here ... but I'm worried about my little sister [aged 13]. What's going to happen to her when she leaves school.

"But, you know, if they say I have to work for the dole, I'll do it. What is it they want me to do?''