The DMV Lady

I could write a novel about my DMV experience yesterday. But I won't. I will try to boil it down succinctly. Because I don't feel like writing a novel about the DMV, and you don't feel like reading one.

The goal: Get a duplicate license for the one I misplaced.

I had my mom drop me off (I thought it would be a little shady to drive to the DMV to get a license) at 7:45am, 15 minutes before it opened. The line was wrapped around the building. My friend was in the middle of the line. Don't worry--I wasn't that person. I said hi, we had a laugh, and I went to the end of the line. Because the website said that a written test could be administered for any driver's license transaction, I'd downloaded the handbook onto my iPod Touch. I also brought a book and my knitting.

An hour later I had read almost the entire handbook and was still not to the front door. But I was almost there. There was a seventeen-year-old, his slightly younger sister, and his dad in front of me in line. For most of the time they were playing games on her phone. When we neared the door, there was a woman with a cart full of forms. She approached the family in front of me.

DMV Lady: What are you here for today?
Dad: He's seventeen and he's getting his first driver's license.
DMV: Do you have your proof of driver's education?
Teen: Um, hehe, no.
DMV: Do you have your birth certificate?
Teen: Um, hehe, no.
DMV: Do you have identification of any kind?
Teen: Um, hehe, no.
DMV: Sigh. You can't get your license without any of those things.
Teen: Hehe....uh....
Me (inside my head): Please don't give this kid a license. I don't want to share a road with him.
Dad: I guess I'll go home and get them. Do you know where they are?
Teen: Hehe....uh...no.
Sister: I think it's on the desk.
Dad: Okay. I'll be back.

Dad leaves. The brother and sister are quiet for a while. My friend is inside, and he and I occasionally text each other to see where we're at. I text Matt and tell him I hate him (I had an appointment for December 20, but he wanted me to go yesterday). Eventually I get to the door. I finish the handbook. I start knitting a hat. I get a solid 15 rows done before I'm close to the front of the line. My friend is stuck in DMV hell because he apparently filled out the wrong form. The DMV lady behind the counter starts asking people who are there for registration purposes to come to the front of the line because "there are workers who are not trained to do licenses, only registrations, and right now they're [twiddles her thumbs]." About 5 people go to the front of the line. That's not enough for the bored government workers. So she gets out from behind the counter and goes outside. She brings in people from the very back of the line which is still wrapped around the building. They go to the appointment line (which is 5-10 people deep at any given moment...I curse Matt in my head, as well as this horrible woman, as well as the boss that feels it unnecessary to fully train his or her employees). I hit the 90 minute mark. There are five people in front of me, including the teen and the sister, still no dad. The teens have started arguing. Something about how he doesn't listen, and how she doesn't know how to take a compliment. My friend finishes his business and comes to chat with me. Another teen comes in, tells the siblings that dad is waiting outside and they need to go. They leave. I catch my friend up on the drama. I tell him I bet one trillion dollars dad got home, looked around for a minute, then thought, "eff this. He can look for his own damn ID card," then came back. My friend and I laugh. I finally get to the front of the line. The DMV Lady goes out and finds 10 more registration people. When they're done it's my turn. She gives me a number and tells me I don't have to take the test. I'm mostly glad, a little sad. I'd spent a lot of time studying. I really would have done well.

I sit down with my number and knit. My number is called. The next DMV lady says that my license has actually been valid this whole time. Would I like a card? What do you mean, do I want one? I just read the entire handbook, and it says I don't have a choice. Of course I want one. I glance at the photo line. One of the cameras is broken and the line is about as long as the one I've already waited in. I ask DMV lady #3 if I need a photo. She says no. I pay my $25 and leave with my temporary papers (and half a knit hat).

Two hours after I got there.

Now as I drive I have the guidelines of the handbook running through my head. Signal 100 feet before your intended turn. Plan 10-15 seconds ahead of where you are now. Blah blah blah.