NOTE for my English friends, DMV is the Dept of Motor Vehicles, performing the same fine job as the DVLC (Driver & Vehicle Licensing Center). DMV puts the EFF in inefficiency.
I'm writing this in my Blackberry, so I'm clearly expecting a wait.
There are probably a million such musings. After all, what else are you going to do while otherwise wasting half a day shuffling around in a stinky hall? No, I'm not talking about Country dancing, just trying to register a car.
First of all, there are no empty parking spaces at the DMV. That's like having no cutlery at a restaurant!
There's a high proportion of down-and-outs, ruffians and rapscallions in line. Is it really this demographic that's buying and registering cars. Or more to the point, is it really this demographic that's so hit by the recession that their collective disenfranchisement is bringing down Detroit?
There's also a high proportion of apparent foreigners. Even the DMV "greeter" isn't sporting English as his first language. Now, I'm not saying that "foreigner" equals "down-and-out". Perish the thought. I am one of those down-and, er, foreigners. I don't know what this proportion says, but by the time you consider all the foreigners down-and-outs, ruffians and rapscallions, precious few middle-class Obama supporters are in evidence today.
Anyhow, 1 hour standing in line buys me the news that I have the wrong paperwork. Have to come back tomorrow with some new paperwork and do it all again. Sigh.
Surely some clever consultant has had a look at the workflow (or lack of it) here?
There's a crazy screaming coming from the other end of the hall, momentarily distracting everyone from their own plight.
Day Two, and today's excuse for the line out into the parking lot (still with no available spaces) is "we can't give you a number, because the computer's overloaded". Now, I was convinced that yesterday's lack of movement was because the only computing power in the building was the Blackberry in my hand. So, everyone's told to each take a torn off scrap of paper on which the mastermind behind this latest initiative has written a letter. Then, we have to move into a parallel line that's even longer, to wait for the same freaking guy to issue us a number. Various opinions are offered from both lines: "Unf*******believable!", "These motherf****** don't know what they're doing!", "This is f****** retarded!" (that last insight from a woman with no teeth), "This motherf****** is out of control!"
Suddenly, everyone in line is a computer expert, especially the guy with a horn on his head. Seriously (in every sense of the word) he has a boney horn sticking out of his forehead.
Oh, the line moved! Nah, it was the western continental plate shifting a few microns.
I can smell weed. I'm in line at the DMV and the woman behind me has just lit a bowl! Must be medicinal, but whatever, someone's enjoying the wait.
They just called B120. Only 60 more to go before me! With a bit of luck I'll be out of here before the holiday weekend starts.
Stepped outside for some air, only to have to listen to a "conversation" between a couple of drunks swigging from containers in brown paper bags. Might listen in for a few stock tips, or at least a heated debate about Afghan versus Lebanese.
Back inside, and someone's holding a dog right underneath a sign that says "No Animals. No Smoking". Now, if that dog lights up I'm going to find security, although that'll probably be harder than finding a midget at NBA camp.
Bugger! I've just realized there are four series of letters and numbers being called, so my B180 might not be 60th in line after B120. Where's the Vicodin?
Someone could make a killing selling cold drinks from an ice box here. There are no vending machines, no TVs showing Wimbledon, no respite whatsoever from the tedium. Except for the floorshow. I've just seen the oldest gay bikers outside of Palm Springs. Top to toe leathers and silly hats. I hope I'm still going when I'm that age. And I hope I have the sense to not dress like that. You can always count on San Francisco.
In a country with 200 million cars, surely this could all be done online? Imagine if you could only buy an iPhone by lining up overnight outside an Apple store! What's that? You do have to line up outside an Apple store to buy an iPhone?
I've just seen the guy who "served" me yesterday wandering around behind the counter in the same tee-shirt he was wearing yesterday. Gives me an idea for another post: "The stinky tee-shirt as a metaphor for what's wrong with America".
What! Suddenly there are no staff at any of the 27 counters. Did someone call a strike? Don't tell me everyone takes their lunch at the same time. Maybe they're all out back in a customer service class.
Another scary thought: a percentage of the assorted crazies, whack jobs and certifiably insane are here to take their driving tests. Knowing well the caliber of the group to which they aspire, in a couple of hours most of these troubled souls will be causing mayhem on Oak Street.
Now I think about it, I realize the DMV is not a desert of efficiency because it's a government agency, but because of the customers it serves. If this was a place where middle-class white Americans had to line up in order to get licenses for their ride-on lawn mowers, there would be hell to pay. The place would grind to a complete standstill under the weight of clamoring and complaining suburbanites. No, these down-and-outs and foreigners put up with the parlous state of the DMV because that's what they do - put up with stuff.
Post-script
It took me 2 days, a total of 5 hours to get a temporary registration for my car. I have to go back in a couple weeks when I get the title documents for the car. I'd say "God Bless America", but I don't want to blaspheme.
