Fun at the DMV

Wednesday, 1:54 pm

By Kate

Jan

30

2008

Because I put things off until the very last minute, today was the day that I had to go the motor vehicles registry to renew my license. Happy Birthday to me. The registry wasn’t at all crowded today, so my number was called within 10 minutes of walking through the door. I had visions of some glitch or another popping up, but the process was easy. Until the eye exam.

I had to read the top row of letters as presented through the stereo ocular piece. No problem. I read them right off.

Then the woman said, “What about the rest of them?”

“What rest of them? I asked. “That’s all there are.”

“No,” she said, “there’s another box of letters to the right. Read them for me.”

“I don’t see another box of letters to the right. It’s all dark over there.”

“Oh,” she said. “You must have a weak right eye.”

“No, I don’t,” I said. “The light is out over there.”

“Well,” she said, “I’ve been doing this for twelve years and I can assure you that the light isn’t out.”

I could feel the panic start to rise. There was just no way I was going to walk out of there without my license. No. Way. (Please please, please God!)

I went back to stand in front of her desk and, as nicely as possible, I asked her if she would please look through the thing. The light was out. Really, truly. Out, out, out. She wasn’t inclined to want to do it, but she seemed to sense that I was going to have a melt down if she didn’t. So she did. And said, “Oh my gosh, the light is out.”

Whew!

She decided that she’d take it on faith that I’m not actually blind in my right eye.

License renewal granted.

Then it was time for the photograph. Oh my word. At least she gave me a few pictures from which to choose. Digital photography is convenient in these matters. I settled for the second photo. The first caught me by surprise and the third and fourth got progressively worse. I now have the perfect mug shot on my drivers license. All it lacks is the prisoner number. It’s not a studio portrait, that’s for sure.

“What a horrible picture,” I said.

“It’s a lot better than most,” she said. “You wouldn’t believe.”

Yes, I would.

By the time I got back to my car, I’m pretty sure that I did look as horrible as the photo on my shiny new license. Wilted beyond measure. I hate going to the motor vehicle registry. I really do.