I think part of my dislike of the DMV is a bit self-fulfilling. For example, my original appointment was Wednesday and I had every document I needed except my birth certificate and marriage license. I remembered my divorce decree but the identification proving I was a citizen of the good ole USA and the one document I own showing why my name has changed (as opposed to the cool made-up reason which is that I am actually wanted in 11 states for snatching candy from babies but more on that later) were not on my person. Jays, bless his heart, ran from the DMV to the house and back again. Unfortunately we were one hour past our designated appointment time. So we had two choices. We could wait in the no-appointment line which was already at a 2 hour plus wait just to get a number to get the entire process started (NOT) or we could come back on Thursday at 8:30 in the morning and start the process anew. We’ll take door B, thank you very much. So home we went and up at the ungodly hour of 5 AM on the day of our second appointment. I’d like to say I was up that early to fluff and blow out my hair but I was actually up to take a few calls from the east coast for work. However, I did manage to do something with my hair and even slap on a little make-up before we rushed out the door to make our 8:30 appointment. We walked in five minutes early, and were promptly sent off to have the car checked to get the paperwork for registering the vehicle in California. I think the guy who inspected my car has seen it all because he did not blink at my circa 2006 North Carolina registered license plate. He checked the VIN, put some information into his iPhone, signed a few things, grunted a few times and sent us back in 9 minutes after we pulled my car into the inspection line.
Once back inline, I quickly received my number and sat for a mere 11 minutes before being called to complete the documentation portion and to get my registration. DMV had upgraded their system a week prior and the poor lady I was working with had to redo my information three times. First she typed the wrong address. Then she used my maiden name on the registration. Then she could not cancel out the license with my maiden name and had to enter my name as an AKA which would have me flagged at every airport security desk across the nation. We finally got it straightened out only to find out that my copy of the title would not get me registered in California. I called my bank and it seems they sent my title to North Carolina to the address my car was registered in (insert Homer-like D’oh!) and would have to reissue my title to me in California. This process would take oh… maybe 30 to 45 days. Sigh. Usually I would not qualify for a temporary tag but after the license fiasco she went to her supervisor and was granted approval to issue a 3 month temp tag. Woot! From this line I moved to the picture line and then picked up my test. I had to wait for a cubby to open so I had a moment to flip through the California drivers manual which later benefited me immensely. Finally a cubby was available and I moved over to take my drivers written test.
The first thing I noticed is that we have WAY cooler driving tests in the South. For example, do you know what the required mileage is if you must pass a tractor who is approaching you on a two lane, unmarked dirt road? It’s 15 miles per hour UNLESS there are cows present in an unfenced pasture approaching the road whereupon you pull to the side and allow the cow AND the tractor to pass before proceeding down the road at 25 miles per hour. Thank you, Texas Driving School for that bit of knowledge. And did you know that if you are driving within 3 miles of pig farm in North Carolina, you should slow to 35 miles per hour to ensure proper stopping distance in case one of those smelly critters gets loose? Well, now you do. But alas, California did not have any random questions like that. They did ask when it is acceptable to smoke in a car when a child is present and the answer is never (as opposed to when it’s your child which is what I originally thought the right answer would be). However, there were no questions about driving in or around pot farms or what is the acceptable amount of medical marijuana you can carry around with you while operating a motor vehicle. Some people, and by some I mean Jason, did not get a perfect score on their written driving test. I, however, did and I was very sad when I did not receive a gold star or some other commendation for basically taking a picture of 37 pages of the California drivers manual and then applying those mad photographic memory skills towards acing my test. Errrr, I mean, I studied hard and of course I did well. Either way, I just wanted a little something that showed, say the police officer who might one day pull me for driving 85 on 280 that I am actually an EXCEPTIONAL driver. You can tell by the gold star on my license that shows I aced my test. See?!?! However, the lady grading my test at the DMV was having none of that and answered “No” in a monotone when I asked for some physical proof that I had, in fact, blown my test out of the water with my amazing written driving skills smarts. Or something. I am not sure if I looked disappointed or if she just wanted me to shut up, but she did grab a yellow highlighter and draw a star on the front page of my test before handing it over and barking NEXT to the person behind me in line.
Finally, I was in the last line at the DMV and so darn grateful even though the entire experience was relatively painless and quick. As I stood in my last line at the DMV, a small child caught my eye as he smooshed handfuls of Reece’s Pieces in his grubby little mouth at the grand ole hour of 9:15 in the morning. He was not the only child in the DMV to be bribed with sugar. In fact, part of my anxiety that morning stemmed from waiting to see which little sugar filled child beast was going to go off first in a sugar fueled rage. I admit it, I held my breath and cursed that mother, the entire line in front of me, the state of California and the DMV when I realized he was at the end of his bag right about the same time he started shaking it upside down to figure out why more candy wasn’t magically appearing. After a few moments, he threw the bag down, looked up at his mother and said, “Canny?” His mother, arguing with some poor DMV official, ignored him. So he got a little louder. “CAN-ny!” When that didn’t work, he started tugging on her shirt singing, “CAN-NY, CAN-NEE, CAAAANEEEEEE, CANNNNNEEEEEEEEEE!” By this point half the DMV was paying attention to him, except his own mother. Realizing he had an audience, albeit not the audience he wanted, he immediately stopped shrieking and looked around at all of us. When he realized that none of us were rushing to feed his sugar fix, he carefully aligned himself between the rail and the counter, looked around to make sure he wouldn’t hit anything on the way down and then promptly threw his body down onto the concrete floor screaming “CAAAANNNNNNNNNEEEEEEYYY” until he hit the floor. It is one of those times in your life when everything slows waaayyyy dooowwnnn because I swear it took 5 minutes for this child to hit the ground from barely 2 feet above. And where the shrieking did not work, the smack to the ground sure did. That women shrieked, threw her bag at the poor DMV official and flopped down on the ground next to her child providing something akin to comfort through hugs, and the promise of “Mamadidnothearyoubaby! Mamagetyoumorecandy!” She then leaped up, circled around and started eying all of us to see who she could possible beat up and steal candy from for her precious weeble wobble, now sitting up on the floor snuffling, huge crocodile tears rolling down his fat cheeks gasping out the occasional sad “cannnyyyy” from his chubby bunny lips. The woman finally spotted some poor man sitting down on a chair holding a Snickers bar, snatched up her purse, left her child lying on the floor and propelled herself in a few steps over to see what she could do about acquiring this man’s candy bar. I am not sure what she said to him to get him to release that candy into her custody but I suspect the bill she handed him helped. She leaped back to her child, handed him the candy, got him up and turned back to the DMV official to begin arguing again as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Because I guess in her world, nothing did.
The rest of us were standing around a bit shell shocked and it took a few yells of “NEXT” from the DMV officials to get the line moving again. Ten minutes later I was walking out of the DMV, temporary registration and license in hand and I realized something. I had learned a great lesson that day. And no, it’s not that doing the right thing and renewing your license and registration take little time and/or pain (especially now that I can renew online). The lesson learned is that I am in the wrong business! Yes, you read that correctly. Why the hell do I work 50 hour weeks and run my own business when I could sit outside of the DMV each day, Costco candy box in hand and earn a small fortune sugaring up these children waiting inside the DMV? Because even if I only charged a dollar for each candy bar (btw a box of 35 bars cost $9 at Costco, you do the math), I’d come out ahead and for little stress and minimal effort. I walked back in to the DMV and spent a moment counting. At that moment, there were 26 kids in the DMV and of those 26 kids, 11 were screaming because they had finished their candy, 9 still had their candy and were waiting in long lines and 7 had mean parents like me who would not give their child candy to bribe them if life on EARTH depended on them mowing down on that sucker at 9 AM on a Thursday.
I’m telling you. Put your entrepreneur’s caps on, hit Costco and I’ll see you at the local DMV. We’ll make a fortune and since it was my idea, don’t forget my 8% off the top.
