February 11, 2008The DMV
It only makes sense that I'd have to go to renew my license in the same period of time that I'm unemployed. 1) I have nothing but time on my hands, and 2) I'm very used to tedium as entertainment.
The trip started out uneventfully enough. I drove there, entered the building and took a number. It was 1:22PM, and my number was 389. The number they were serving was 382.
"This will be nice and easy," I thought to myself.
Then, unbeknownst to me, time stopped. The walls of the DMV began to run, then congealed into a sticky mess of shit. The curtain fell away and and the third circle of hell revealed itself. We were gluttons, alright — gluttons for punishment.
My fellow cursed souls began to question the logic of the system of service. Why were we taking numbers and just not standing in line? Roughly half of the people who entered the building ignored instructions to take a number and simply walked to the counter. Of that group, half of them were sent to take a number while the other half were given immediate service.
Who were these people and what granted them the power to flout the conventions of the DMV?
They were fools who'd attempted to renew their licenses earlier, but had failed to bring with them the required documents. License, social security card, and proof of address. They'd been sent away to retrieve said documents, and were given a golden ticket guaranteeing them service upon their return. Bullshit, I say!
Is it fair that people who were too stupid to bring the required documents are given a free pass to the front of the line? I don't think so. Fuck them. Let them sit and wait with the rest of us. Better yet, let them wait until all the first timers with numbers are served. Let them scrub the toilets with their toothbrushes and mop the floors with their tongues. I was on the verge of assaulting the next golden ticket holder who walked through the door.
Finally, mercifully, my number was called. I sprinted to the table to beat any golden ticket-holding interlopers who might cut ahead of me. We began processing my request and everything went smoothly until the DMV played its trump card: the out of state address transfer form.
Yes, even though I'd gone to every accessible table in the entire building looking for any forms I might need to fill out, there was an out of state address transfer form that was required in addition to the documents I brought. This form was, apparently, so valuable that they kept it behind the counter. The only way to get it was to have your number called.
I took the form and filled it out as quickly as possible, a difficult task given that it appeared to be the product of a thousand photocopies. I fought through the eye strain, guessed at what I was supposed to enter for nearly every blank on the form, and shoved my way back to the front of the line.
Did I take another number? Wait my turn? Fuck, no!
I'd already been through the line once - why should I have to wait again? I hovered around the counter with the golden ticket holders and awaited my opportunity. When the person being served at the counter turned to walk away I pounced! Victory!
Finally, mercifully, I was able to complete my request for a new license. They gave me an eye test, took my signature and my picture, and at 3:06PM I was done.
Nice and easy…
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