The DMV is Not Hell
So. It is Friday, December 30, the last normal business day of 2005. It’s around noon. I am preparing to go to bed after fourteen hours of staring at HTML code. As I crawl under the sheets, I think “Oh, 2006. How nice. I turn XX and… my license expires! Oh shit!”
Thirty minutes later, I’m at the DMV. The last Friday afternoon of the year is not my preferred DMV visiting time, but my car tags are also expiring on the first. Some things must be done. After an hour and a half wait, I get called up to a window, where the clerk tells me we can renew my license but she won’t give me even temporary plates without an IM test. Do you think I have a recent IM test on this car? You jest. “But my tags expire in two days. I’ll never get the test done and get back here in time to get the paperwork taken care of.”
She doesn’t care. No IM results, no tags, no car for me.
Whoops.
To the garage then. “It’ll take an hour,” says the mechanic, totally bored.
He sniggers every time he walks in the waiting room for the next hour and sees me sitting there. Sure, I could have walked to WalMart, but… meh.
Forty minutes later, the car is done. See? It pays to hang around looking pathetic.
As I’m driving to the DMV, it occurs to me that I don’t have a current insurance card in my car. This doesn’t worry me normally because my car has been insured continuously since I bought it, and with one phone call I can fax my card to anyone who asks for it. But, given the DMV’s rather… meticulous… attention to details like IM tests, I figure I better have a current card on hand before I go back.
Off to work then, eh? Not my work; my mother’s. She has a fax machine. I commandeer it, call my insurance company, and stare at the printer for twenty minutes waiting for the fax to appear. Then I realize this is a printer and not a fax machine and head off into the front office to find out where the fax machine is. I was a little tired, ok?
Back at the DMV, I look around for my clerk, who promised to let me cut in line when I returned. Unfortunately, my clerk is gone. I grab a number: only 100 people ahead of me.
Thirty minutes later, my clerk appears from some back room, asking for anyone with title work.
Title work? That’s me! Yay! Save me, Super Clerk!
She does, smiling at me. “Aw. I remember you.”
Ah, yes. Me. The clueless one.
Back in her office (she has an office? Who knew?) the clerk suddenly remembers I also need a new license.
“I can’t help you. You have to do that up front.”
Figures. On the other hand, with eighty people still ahead of me, it’s not like I’ll have missed my turn. I start to leave.
“Wait!”
Your wish is my command, Super Clerk.
“Here’s a new number. You won’t have to wait so long. If they already called this one while you were in here, come back here and I’ll give you a new new number.”
I think I’m in love.
The timing is excellent, too. I no sooner walk back into the waiting area than my new number is called. Sweet.
The license is quickly dealt with and then my car title is changed over and new plates are issued. Minutes later I’m grimacing for the camera and minutes after that my new license is in my hand.
It’s everything you’d expect from a DMV photo.
I feel momentary regret that I had to turn in my old one. After all, it did say “Under 21” still and I got a cheap thrill every time I bought alcohol. I was just waiting for a waitress to say “but you’re underage” without looking for my birthday. Of course, not one person said that, so I don’t know who I was fooling.
We can all rest easy, though. In the next few hours I will finish this bottle of champagne, the year will tick over, I’ll be a day older, and I’ll still be a legal driver. Well, except for the being drunk bit. When I’m sober, I’ll be legal. And my car will be legal, too. I know you’re relieved.
And… I’d like to point out that although I did spend several hours at the DMV, every time I actually worked with a DMV clerk they were polite and friendly. Despite the fact that most of the people waiting in the chairs were not so polite or friendly. And Super Clerk went out of her way to help me out of my situation as much as she could. It was my fault for waiting until the last minute to do all the paperwork. She didn’t have to help me.
Happy New Year, everyone. Hug a DMV employee.