Written on Wednesday, September 2, 2009 at 10:24pm
The DMV- otherwise known as satan’s summer home, was our afternoon destination today. As soon as you walk in the door, you can feel the tension; ticked off people everywhere. Bitter workers return the animosity. Crappy vibes all around- I swear, if I ever get shot, it’ll be there.
All kinds of people . . . documents flying everywhere- It’d really be a fun place to people watch if you weren’t so annoyed the whole time and lacked the ability to feel any empathy. As we were standing in line, a guy in front of us was trying to prove his proof of residency. His proof- an 8 year old girl standing next to him as if she was a walking utility bill. His license had been previously revoked in another state and he had no other form of identification so he was pleading to let the kid next to him be proof- the poor girl was just standing there, holding onto the front of the desk, with a look of “I’m totally lost right now but I know they’re talking about me” on her face. Needless to say it didn’t work.
Finally our turn- the lady riffles through our stuff and says, “No, not right document. See . . .” but I had already tuned out. I knew what she was saying but she wasn’t listening to me. This was our second time there and we had already corrected the first visit’s mistake. A bit of self righteous indignation started rising at a tremendous rate. Before I knew what she had decided, a number was thrown at us and we took a seat.
Somehow the guy next to us was dozing in and out of zen-like slumber. How? I have no idea. How could anyone fall asleep with that automated voice droning on with “N 1345, please proceed to line 3 . . . A 3465, please proceed to line 13" . . . and so on. Over and over. No rhyme or reason so you’re just pinned to the voice, waiting for your number to be called. But this guy must be a true master his emotions- he could sleep in the DMV!
We had two numbers for some reason which meant we had to go to two different lines. Chances that the two would be called at the same time was one in a million We thought we’d be fine but the stars aligned and as we were in line for our registration, the license ticket number was called- so off Nat went. Oh h h boy! One of my docs was in question so the lady had to go talk to her manager to see if it was ok. This never turns out well- but it did! I asked the lady if I could go check on my wife- before she answered I was gone.
As I was about 10 feet from Nat, she turned, with fire in her eyes (rarely does anyone see this level of anger besides me; not pretty) and said, “This girls got a problem. She won’t let you get your license with me. We have to get another number.” I calmly, because she obviously was ticked off enough for the two of us, said, “Nope I’m not waiting another hour and half. I’ll just stand there until they make me move.” And with that, turned and headed back to my counter.
By some providential intervention, we left 10 minutes later with license plates and new licenses in hand- dang!
All kinds of people . . . documents flying everywhere- It’d really be a fun place to people watch if you weren’t so annoyed the whole time and lacked the ability to feel any empathy. As we were standing in line, a guy in front of us was trying to prove his proof of residency. His proof- an 8 year old girl standing next to him as if she was a walking utility bill. His license had been previously revoked in another state and he had no other form of identification so he was pleading to let the kid next to him be proof- the poor girl was just standing there, holding onto the front of the desk, with a look of “I’m totally lost right now but I know they’re talking about me” on her face. Needless to say it didn’t work.
Finally our turn- the lady riffles through our stuff and says, “No, not right document. See . . .” but I had already tuned out. I knew what she was saying but she wasn’t listening to me. This was our second time there and we had already corrected the first visit’s mistake. A bit of self righteous indignation started rising at a tremendous rate. Before I knew what she had decided, a number was thrown at us and we took a seat.
Somehow the guy next to us was dozing in and out of zen-like slumber. How? I have no idea. How could anyone fall asleep with that automated voice droning on with “N 1345, please proceed to line 3 . . . A 3465, please proceed to line 13" . . . and so on. Over and over. No rhyme or reason so you’re just pinned to the voice, waiting for your number to be called. But this guy must be a true master his emotions- he could sleep in the DMV!
We had two numbers for some reason which meant we had to go to two different lines. Chances that the two would be called at the same time was one in a million We thought we’d be fine but the stars aligned and as we were in line for our registration, the license ticket number was called- so off Nat went. Oh h h boy! One of my docs was in question so the lady had to go talk to her manager to see if it was ok. This never turns out well- but it did! I asked the lady if I could go check on my wife- before she answered I was gone.
As I was about 10 feet from Nat, she turned, with fire in her eyes (rarely does anyone see this level of anger besides me; not pretty) and said, “This girls got a problem. She won’t let you get your license with me. We have to get another number.” I calmly, because she obviously was ticked off enough for the two of us, said, “Nope I’m not waiting another hour and half. I’ll just stand there until they make me move.” And with that, turned and headed back to my counter.
By some providential intervention, we left 10 minutes later with license plates and new licenses in hand- dang!
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