The DMV & Me

“Take my advice…bring chocolate next time you go to the DMV!”

How many vacations have you ridden along with me…vicariously? If you’ve been around very long, you’ll know I don’t do very well with “re-entry”. I’ve never just come home and smoothly transition into laundry and cooking and doing the everyday mundane things. And, it seems the older I get, the more difficult it is to come down off the high of a really good trip. And this one was a REALLY good one.

There were a few little bobbles along the way. The whole camper fiasco was a pain in the caboose but I turned it into a teaching moment. Then I lost my driver’s license. I know I had it at the Quick Care when I had the stress hives. But they swear it wasn’t left there. I called the pharmacy to see if maybe I left it there but they said it wasn’t there either. The DMV told me to print off a copy of my driving record to at least prove to a police officer that I have a valid license and I’m trying to fix it. Our whole camping vacation itinerary had to be changed, but that all turned out to be fine.

The first thing that had to be done yesterday was go to the DMV. Well…the FIRST thing I did was go pick up the mail to see if anyone had found it and mailed me my license. Nope. Then I went to the county building and got a copy of my birth certificate and marriage license in case I needed it at the DMV. I had my Social Security card and a vehicle registration with me. I have the Federal ID on my Driver’s License. I had to show a gazillion kinds of ID to get that. I thought SURELY I wouldn’t need a gazillion MORE kinds of ID to let them know I’m the same person with all the OTHER kinds of ID. HA! I was SO wrong!

I stood in the little pre-line line to let the clerk know what I needed. She looked at what I had. Nope. Not good enough. I needed a bill with my name and address on it. Ok, I had my health insurance bill. I handed that to her. Nope. They can’t accept health insurance. I had my taxes. Nope. Can’t accept federal taxes. OK, I said…what do you need? She underlined all the acceptable forms of identification. I went out to the truck and brought back a second registration for a different vehicle. Nope. Can’t come from the same source. Grrrrr.

So, I drove all the way across town and went to my car insurance agent’s office. I changed my address on my insurance and had them print out an insurance card for me. I drove back across town and stood in the pre-line again. Ok…we’re making progress. I got a number! I sat. And sat. And sat. Finally, my number was called and I ran up to the window with a huge smile.

“Identification, please.”

“Here you go! A registration and my car insurance…both with my name and address!” I smiled. They aren’t going to beat me this time!

The clerk looked over my papers and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t accept this. The address on the insurance card doesn’t match the one on the car registration.”

“What?!?!?!”

She quietly starts tapping on the keyboard and read, taps and reads, taps and reads. 

“What is your husband’s name?”

I told her.

“And what is his birthdate?”

I told her.

“And you got your marriage license in this county?”

“Yes, we did.”

“Hmmmmm…I can’t find him.”

Be calm. Be calm. Be calm.

They’ve added a large copy of the law, highlighted, that says what the punishment is for disruptive behavior in the DMV. It’s pasted everywhere.

I looked over at the different styles of license plates you can order. And there…on number six…was a bluebird. I could almost hear Mr. Virgo say “Go easy, baby doll.” I thought of Mr. FixIt and how nothing seems to ruffle his feathers. And my shoulders relaxed.

“This must be a difficult job sometimes,” I said to the clerk.

“Oh, it’s not so bad.” She smiled as she continued to type and read.

Finally, I picked up the insurance card. The bottom half was kind of faded where the cartridge was running out of toner. Sure enough, under “Name and address of owner”, there was a typo in the name of the street. But, above that, under “Name and address of insured”, the address was correct. And clearly darker! 

“Oh, look! It DOES have the name spelled right on this line! See? The other one is just so light from the printer, it’s hard to read. See the dark one here???”

It worked! My diversionary tactic to take the focus off the wrong one and place it on the right one clearly saved the day!

“Oh, my gosh! It must be my glasses! That IS right!” She took my money and quickly handed my number back to me. “You only have one person in front of you so it should take long now!” She smiled sweetly at me.

Right.

I was there another hour before they took my picture for my new license. And now I have to look at that tired, sweaty, grumpy picture for the next however many years. Or until I lose THIS license. Whichever comes first. 

The bottom line is this…these people are just doing their jobs. They don’t make up the rules. They aren’t there to make your life miserable. They just want to earn a buck and go home and put their feet up. So, next time you have to go to the dreaded DMV, bring a smile. Some chocolate for the nice person behind the counter couldn’t hurt either. Maybe I would have gotten out of there quicker if I’d brought a little Hershey’s with me!

❤️

“Now swear to me here before God that you will not deal falsely with me or my children or my descendants. Show to me and the country where you now reside as a foreigner the same kindness I have shown to you.””

Genesis 21:23 NIV