{"id":233,"date":"2024-05-18T16:05:33","date_gmt":"2024-05-19T00:05:33","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/?p=233"},"modified":"2024-05-18T16:58:36","modified_gmt":"2024-05-19T00:58:36","slug":"devil-thy-name-is-dmv","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/?p=233","title":{"rendered":"Devil, thy name is DMV"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Everything in life is somewhere else, and you get there in a car. ~E.B. White<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a dark and stormy night, the trees bending like toothpicks in the unrelenting rain.  I heard the thunder crashing all around me, the explosions bursting the very particles of my brain cells, my pupils seeing stars\u2026wait, hold on.  Actually, it was a warm day in Clovis and the thermometer was beginning the climb to its predicted 85 degrees, which meant I was already sweating at 10:30 in the morning.  My forehead was clammy, my nerves were shot, and my fingers tightly gripped the steering wheel like an iron vise.  Destination; the dreaded DMV.  Yes, after many years it was time to renew my license, and because it had been such I long time, I was given the lovely opportunity to visit a real-life DMV office.  Boy howdy!  I jumped for joy when I saw that little nugget on my paperwork.  Because who wouldn\u2019t<\/em> want to step foot into a dimly lit building, where the tempers are short, and the lines are longer than the lyrics to \u201cAmerican Pie.\u201d  You\u2019re only a number here mister, and don\u2019t you forget it.  The verbal contact is minimal at best, and don\u2019t even think about asking the same question twice.  I\u2019ve heard of people literally turning to stone after receiving the laser-like evil eye.  It\u2019s like that classic Seinfeld scene where the Soup Nazi is all business, and the customers know the drill; say nothing, act casual.  Also, no sudden movements \u2013 you don\u2019t want to scare that beauty behind the counter with the coke-bottle glasses and slight moustache.  She\u2019s been back there since 1972, fueled by Sanka, Virginia Slims, and a no-nonsense demeanor.  NEXT!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Car sickness is the feeling some persons get when each month’s installment comes due. <\/em><\/strong>
~Herbert V. Prochnow<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

What you are about to read is true.  Every single word.  Okay, almost every word. And now I\u2019ll hop aboard my trusty Schwinn bicycle with the banana seat, and backpedal to sometime earlier this year.  It was a random month when I received my license renewal and registration. Holy crap!  My registration is a whopping $334!  Damn! I have to physically appear at the Department of Motor Vehicles!  And so, like every other DMV hating American, I promptly shoved both documents into a dresser drawer and forgot about them. Until about 2 weeks before my birthday, when I realized I was running out of time, and immediately threw myself into a purple panic.  I made a beeline for my pink Mac, and hopped down the proverbial rabbit hole that is the DMV website.  I attempted to make an appointment at one of the three offices in town, but was unable to find a single one before May 12th<\/sup>.  Curses! Realizing I\u2019d just have to show up at the Clovis office early, I began filling out my application.  Easy peasy right?  Um, nope.  I started, paused, returned, and tried to finish, but couldn\u2019t. I hit the \u201ccontinue\u201d button so many times, I wore the print right off my index finger.  Disgruntled, I finally completed a new application and discovered I now had 2 app numbers.  I only mention this mindless fact because you\u2019ll want to remember it later in our story.  It should be right around the time you see, \u201cthen I almost reached across the counter and punched her in the face\u201d \u2026.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A real patriot is the fellow who gets a parking ticket and rejoices that the system works. <\/em><\/strong>
~Bill Vaughan<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few days later, armed with a mess of important info like my birth certificate, bank statement, thumb print, shoe size, and astrology chart, I confidently marched into the front doors of the DMV.  Just like that, my confidence immediately tanked and was replaced by despair, despondence, and disappointment.  It appeared that the great unwashed of Fresno had all decided to show up at the same time, and that my day was about to get screwed big time.  I didn\u2019t know it at the time, but I was about to embark on an epic journey, where all my hopes would be dashed, and my dreams shot to the ground. It would also be almost 7 hours before it was over and done.  As Alice Cooper once creepily sang, \u201cWelcome to My Nightmare.\u201d  And so, I took my place in the snaking \u201cnon-appointment\u201d line, and spent the next 45 minutes or so listening to three Middle Eastern 20-somethings arguing behind me, watching the fidgety guy in front of me, all  while gobbling down a PB&J.  Observation: DMV has 35 windows, but only ONE designated to non-appointments. How about a couple more windows? Are we not human? Cattle call\u2026moo\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A motorcycle is okay until you hit gravel. <\/em><\/strong>
~Ernest Hemingway<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

 Suddenly, it was finally my turn, and I squealed with delight. That is, until I noticed the lady working the window was going to lunch.  Oh no, this could not be good.  She seemed kind and helpful and completely un-like any other DMV worker bee.  I somehow knew when I was waved over by her replacement, that SHE was not like her predecessor.  I calmy walked to the counter, took a deep breath, and flashed a big smile.  I was met with none other than Roz from \u201cMonsters, Inc.\u201d  Just a pair of bloodshot peepers looking over her cat-eye glasses, and a monotone voice asking me what I came for.  I almost jokingly said, \u201cWell, for the world-famous buffet, of course,\u201d but then I came to my senses.  When I handed over my application, I told her about the 2 different confirmation numbers. Whereupon she looked me squarely in the face and sarcastically said, \u201cIf you get a number, that means you did it correctly.\u201d Then in true Roz fashion, she asked me for my paperwork.  When I told her I had downloaded my docs online, she testily replied, \u201cYou still have to bring them in.\u201d What I did; I handed them to her.  What I wanted to do; Ask what good is having a download option then?  Afterward, she took one look at my birth certificate and said the words that still haunt me today, \u201cOh, we can\u2019t accept this.\u201d  The reason being that it wasn\u2019t stamped with fancy raised embossment.  Now mind you, it took me a couple of days and the emptying of several file folders to find that damn certificate.  I was not happy.  It was at this point; I almost reached across the counter and punched her in the face.<\/em>  However, I did not.  Because your girl here is NOT<\/strong> meant for the cold cement floor of solitary confinement\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The elderly don’t drive that badly; they’re just the only ones with time to do the speed limit. <\/em><\/strong>
~Jason Love<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

As I snatched my paperwork from Roz\u2019s clawed hands, I gave her my best I-couldn\u2019t-hate-you-more look and stormed out the door.  Not willing to accept defeat, and reminding myself it was only 4 days before my license expired, I had to change my game plan.  So, I pulled up my big-girl panties, and made a beeline for home.  There, I vented to my mother, slammed a Diet Pepsi, and looked up the Recorder\u2019s office address.  Which is a good thing, because they moved into a spanking new building just down the street from where I used to work.  After I arrived at their office, I went to the one of many computers they have, typed in my info, and got in line.  Luckily, it was a short line, and the lady behind the glass had a much better attitude. But I about keeled over when she told me I owed her thirty bucks. Thirty ding dang dollars!  Geez lady, how about a senior discount?  And so, I took my brand-new minted certificate, and decided that since I was already downtown, I could hit the new DMV on Olive Avenue just minutes away.  Fabulous!  I could get it done and be home in about an hour!  But the universe is a bitch sometimes, and she had other ideas.  Unbeknownst to me, she had just one more roadblock (literally) for me, and I headed straight for it\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It finally happened. I got the GPS lady so confused, she said, “In one-quarter mile, make a legal stop and ask directions.” <\/em><\/strong>
~Robert Brault<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was getting hot outside, and my air conditioner was on full blast, the vents pointed straight at me.  I was on my way to salvation, and as I got closer and closer to my destination, I started to feel hopeful again.  I got behind two white vans heading the same direction, and we drove for a few minutes under the blazing sun.  Uh oh.  And there they were.  I began to see orange cones and construction zone signs, and then I saw the one thing standing in my way of procuring a new California Driver\u2019s License; a giant sign that read ROAD CLOSED.  NOOOOO!  NOT TODAY!!!  I pounded on the steering wheel as the work crew began instructing the two vans to turn around, and I was forced to follow behind.  What did I do now?  How do I get there?  I knew where I was, but I had no clue about another option to get where I was going.  I turned into a sketchy neighborhood, where more construction equipment could be found, and zig zagged my way for a mile or so, until I somehow made it out alive.  And then, the lightbulb came on, and I realized I could spend the next half hour searching for the building, or I could head to the last DMV office in town.  I had to muster up all the strength and courage I could, because this battle was going to be ugly, tedious, and demanding.  I popped in a breath mint and knew there was no turning back\u2026onward!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

When buying a used car, punch the buttons on the radio. If all the stations are rock and roll, there’s a good chance the transmission is shot. <\/em><\/strong>
~Larry Lujack<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

And off I went, zooming my way up to the one place I promised myself I would never visit again: the dreaded, dirty, dark DMV on Blackstone Avenue.  It\u2019s old, it\u2019s dank, and it smells like tacos and bad after shave.  But despite the fact it also has only one non-appointment line, it went fairly quickly.  I turned in my docs, got a number, and took my seat with 97 other people sitting in ugly hard chairs.  They all looked miserable and exhausted.  They all looked like me.  My ass immediately began to ache.  And then I waited, and waited, and I waited some more.  I watched the numbers on the board tick off one by one.  I became jealous of everyone who jumped up when they were called.  They were the chosen ones, the special ones, the lucky ones.  And I hated all of them.  I especially hated the little brat behind me, playing an aggravating cartoon in a continuous loop on her tablet.  OMG.  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, my number appeared, and I sprinted to the counter.  The employee I encountered was dour and unsmiling, with no visible people skills, a bad haircut, and yes, a thin moustache.  She\u2019d obviously been working there way too long.  She wasn\u2019t having it. She was just killing time until retirement.  Like yours truly.  But in record time, all my docs were processed, I got my interim driver\u2019s license, and passed my vision test.  It\u2019s a mystery how anyone<\/em> can pass that thing.  It\u2019s hung behind each worker, and you have to squint through the plexiglass to see the letters.  That plexiglass is disgusting; it\u2019s filthy, it\u2019s scratched, with some sort of dusty film clinging to it.  When\u2019s the last time they replaced that germy piece of plastic, 1976?  Gross!<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Every year it takes less time to fly across the ocean and longer to drive to the office. <\/em><\/strong>
~Raymond Duncan<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Department of Motor Vehicles was founded in 1915, 109 years ago.  Their annual budget is $1.1 billion dollars.  The DMV currently employees over 8,900 cranky people.  Okay, maybe they\u2019re not ALL cranky, but that\u2019s just my experience. Is there any other organization more despised than the DMV?  I suppose the IRS could give them a run for their money. I know my mother gets all nutted up and bent out of shape when you just mention the PG&E.  It gets so bad, that depending on her mood, I usually hide the bill for a couple days.  If she gets worked up about Direct TV, I can usually talk her down from the ledge.  I suppose having a job at the DMV has its pros and cons, just like any other.  I\u2019m assuming the pay is all right, the benefits are good, and there\u2019s excellent job security.  But that bad attitude, prison cell vibe, and waiting on lots of irritating people would definitely make you consider an alternative field of work.  DMV, we salute you!  Now talk to PG&E about some better overhead lights, ring up Angi for a cleaning service, and tell Direct TV you want some Samsung screens installed STAT.  Hey, if we frustrated customers had Netflix to watch while we waited, our unhappiness would disappear faster than you can say \u201cStranger Things\u201d\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

One time the police stopped me for speeding, and they said “oh, you know the speed limit is 55 miles per hour.” I said, “yah, I know, but I wasn’t going to be out that long.” <\/em><\/strong>
~Steven Wright<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

It was a dark and stormy night, the trees bending like toothpicks in the unrelenting rain.\u00a0 I heard the thunder crashing all around me, the explosions bursting the very particles of my brain cells, my pupils seeing stars\u2026wait, hold on.\u00a0 Actually, it was a warm day in Clovis\u2026<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":237,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-233","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/233","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=233"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/233\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":238,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/233\/revisions\/238"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/237"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=233"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=233"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/wendy.thedude.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=233"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}