Me & The DMV

This morning I went to the DMV. The DMV here really pushes its online presence and after today, I understand why. Unfortunately for me, I had let my license expire, so I couldn’t renew over the internet. Also unfortunately, an expired license is not a good thing, so I had to get it renewed quickly.

The office opened at 8, and while I was expecting to have to wait, I was not expecting the line to be so deep when I arrived at 7:45. The parking lot was nearly full and the sidewalk was overloaded. At around 9 o’clock, I finally got to the front of the line (to get a ticket to wait further) and was told I didn’t have everything I need. I headed home to grab my passport, which says nothing about me living in Virginia , and headed back to wait in line again. At least, I had no where important to be.

The line was only about half as long, but I was going to have to wait in it again. Not long after I arrived, an old man arrived. He had his thin white hair combed neatly in place and his face was covered by a handful of liver spots. His striped shirt was tucked severely into his striped pants that looked more like pajama pants than dress pants. His pants were, you guessed it, pulled up to his chest.

The young man in front of me offered to switch spots in line with him that the old man accepted with a smile and then joked “I don’t look that old do I?” I offered to switch spots with him myself and the two of us talked for a brief minute. I told him this was my second time waiting in line, and he told me he always brings everything he might need with him to the DMV and raised a tidy little stack of papers. I would have enjoyed talking to him longer, but the young security guard offered to usher him to the front of the line. Senior citizen privilege I guess. I think he was more surprised than anyone. You know those senior citizens, too… always in a rush to get stuff done.

I got to the front of the line where I got my ticket, B38, and camped out by the far wall. I spotted the old man chatting with someone in the seats. I kept my eye on him and watched him struggle to stand when his number was called. He laughed aloud at himself for this and again when his number was repeated over the loud speaker because it took him a minute to get there. I watched him quickly go through the transaction at the teller.

Like me, it appeared he was just renewing his license. I was stunned, however, when this old man removed his glasses before his eye exam. Admittedly, this gave me hope, as I had my glasses in my pocket, trying to quickly strengthen and adjust my eyes so that I too could pass without the aid of eyeglasses. No such luck though, as I waited patiently looking through the machine for my teller to flash the numbers before I realized that I just couldn’t see the numbers that were up there.

Then my teller convinced me that I had filled out the form wrong by reversing the numbers in my street address. The numbers above my front door. The numbers on all my mail. The numbers at which I live. She convinced me that I did not know my own address, and now I’m getting a license made with the wrong address. This is true. In her defense, my old license that I got when I moved, only a year ago, had the wrong address on it, which would be my fault.

So to recap: let’s compare the old man at the DMV and me. Which one did not have all the necessary paperwork the first time through? Which one apparently has better eyesight? Which one presumably knows where he lives? Which one is not easily influenced or corrected into making the wrong choice? And, who got bumped to the front of the line?

I’m waiting for my chance to skip to the front of the line, unfortunately that could take fifty-some years. I have a feeling though the wait is much better than that of the DMV.