Posted by Steve Yeich | Posted in Humor article | Posted on 28-06-2012
I have had the unfortunate necessity of having to go to the DMV three times in the last three years. Apparently, after the first time I went the DVM gods did not like the article that I wrote afterward (read it here) so they punished me by making me go again last year. Of course, moving to California might have had something to do with it too. Then I wrote another article about that DMV experience, which I will always treasure, and again the gods made me return. But, again, I moved back to Las Vegas. I’m getting a recurring theme here that moving forces you to go to the DMV, along with those gods, or more likely, devils. The lesson from that theme is DON’T MOVE!
I finally made the time to go yesterday. I would have put it off longer but I was already fined for not doing it within thirty days of moving back to Nevada. I guess they consider the DMV their welcoming party. Let’s say that the lady behind the information booth (hereafter referred to as the Nazi Bitch) was not that welcoming. I was next in line and my attention must have wandered for a millisecond and when I didn’t immediately jump up to her booth to praise her she started flailing her Nazi Bitch arms to get my attention. When I did get there she didn’t greet me courteously, unless DMV courteousness is a snarl. Luckily, I was able to escape with only my feelings hurt. I’ve seen worse.
The Nazi Bitch gave me a number which meant I had to wait for a very long time. I’m pretty sure she found a way to give me a number later than would have been my normal turn. It’s a game the Nazi Bitches play against each other to see who can screw over the most people.
I had to figure out something to do to pass the time since I didn’t have the foresight to bring something to read. I noticed a lot of people were looking at their cell phones. That didn’t work out that well for me since I neither text or play games on my phone, so staring at the numbers got a little boring.
I decide to people watch. I quickly came to the conclusion that white socks and sandals is a fashion statement no one should make. My next conclusion was that too many people go to the snack bar, not necessarily while at the DMV, just in general.
Not being a very deep thinker, those were my only conclusions before my number came up. What an adrenaline high when I saw my number flashing. I ran to my designated booth and while it wasn’t the same Nazi Bitch there, this lady also qualified as a Nazi Bitch. Apparently, they put it on their resume when they apply for the job.
She asked me if I wanted to use the picture from my California driver’s license or get a new picture. I opted for using the old picture. She looked at the picture and said , “Really?” She looked at it again and shrugged. I think she thought I didn’t have much to work with anyway, so why bother.
I guess she wanted to get rid of me as soon as possible because she didn’t even make me do the eye test. Darn it, I had spent a lot of time practicing mumbling the letters so she couldn’t hear me when she asked me to read a line so I could buy more time to squint and get the correct answer. Another DMV disappointment.
All in all, it wasn’t my worst DMV experience. I’ve had worse, just read my previous articles. If some of the employees would take some friendly pills it wouldn’t have been bad at all. But I did make one decision while I was there. I’m not going to move again for a very long time.