A Chronology of the Ass Blowing Bureaucracy of the DMV
I know. It's lame to complain about the DMV. We've all experienced the general lack of service, care, and imagination it suffers. But the past eight weeks for me has been a journey so wrought with pain, abuse, and suffocating red tape that it should be required reading for anyone considering becoming a licensed driver. Don't let The Coreys fool you: a License to Drive isn't the thrill ride it appears to be.
Let's start at the beginning.
Fall 2002. I leave the Mercury lounge in NYC on a cold rainy night and drive for about a block when I get pulled over. I had intended to fasten my seatbelt at the first red light, but before I could get that far I was stopped by a police officer and ticketed. Okay. My fault. It's bullshit, but it's my fault. Officer Crabgash asks for my registration and insurance, which I give him. But in the dark I handed him an old insurance card. He could have simply remarked "Ma'am you're insurance is expired." I would have winced at the "Ma'am" part, then quickly handed him the correct, NOT expired card that was also in my glove compartment. Instead he writes me an extra ticket for expired insurance. When I inform him he has made a mistake he replies, "Too late. Already wrote the ticket." When he did not burst into flames, I knew the Jedi Mind Trick was not altogether infallible. Fucking George Lucas!
Then he says I can mail in the ticket with a copy of proof of insurance and it will all go away. I drove away and did as the nice officer instructed and never heard from the NY DMV about the ticket again. Problem solved. Right?
Let's skip ahead.
Summer 2004: I get an amazing once-in-a-lifetime shot to tool around on tour with David Bowie and The Polyphonic Spree for ten days. Pretty fucking rad, right? I was excited. So excited, in fact, that as I am driving on the Upper West Side of Manhattan I forget to stop at one little old crosswalk-stop sign, right in front of Officer McParkedNearby. Shit!
He is all set to let me off with a warning, due to my "Oops! I have blonde hair, which makes me stupid..teehee!" routine, which by the way, usually works. But he calls in my license and informs me that I have a suspended license.
What???
So instead I get another ticket for driving without a license and am urged to clear this up with both New York and Connecticut (where my license was issued) ASAFP. So I spend the next few days trying to get a human being on the phone just to find out HOW to even go about paying a ticket I no longer have a copy of. After 20-odd hours of automated voice menus and busy signals I shitcan the entire thing, vow never to drive again and throw my phone at a hotel concierge (in front of Russell Crowe who watched admiringly. Sorry, dude).
This single decision will later cost me over a thousand dollars, eight weeks of my life, 300 hours on the telephone (200 of those on "Hold"), buckets of tears, the wrath of my parents, and the will to live.
Summer 2005: I move to Seattle, Washington, and attempt to get a new license. Here's my logic: none of the DMVs so far have even installed a fax machine; surely their records can't be connected between states. Maybe they won't find out my license is suspended in Connecticut, and I can put this whole mess behind me.
Get it? 'Cause that's the punchline.
After filling out forms and passing the eye test, my Seattle DMV employee looks suspiciously at a printed paper in front of her. She eyeballs me, surveys up and down and then avoids eye contact as she asks for the $20 fee required for me to take my written test. I hand over the cash and THE INSTANT it leaves my hand, she looks back at the paper as if she is a news anchor and someone just handed this to her on air. "This just in: it appears your license is suspended in CT and NY. We won't be able to give you the driver's test. Oh, and also I can't refund the money you JUST gave me, because you neglected to inform me that you had a suspended license."
Me: "I didn't know it was suspended."
Her: "Too bad. So sad. Your Dad." (I'm paraphrasing)
This time the Jedi Mind Trick did work. Only apparently I was willing her to be a cruel-ass fuckstain. Lucas!!
By this time, I am also negotiating the purchase of a new car to be picked up during an upcoming two-week trip to Texas. My parents are helping me pick it up, so now they are also involved. I love them, but sometimes dealing with the DMV is almost more fun. The point is, I have a very limited time in which to resolve the no-license having issue. So I spend another half day on the phone until finally someone at the Albany office of the New York DMV picks up the plastic ringing-thingy on his desk that has been disturbing his nap.
I tell him my predicament and he informs me that I can contest the first no insurance ticket, which will take 3 months to resolve. Or I can pay the fines and try to get the money back later. This will enable me to at least get a driver's license in the meantime. He also says there is no record of the second ticket, which I am relieved about, and set about paying off all the fines.
Ticket: $380
Misdemeanor charge: $500 (apparently no insurance is a criminal offense as well as traffic violation)
Fee to the State of Connecticut for reinstating my license: $125
Sucking the giant hairy dick of the Department of Motor Vehicles: Priceless.
So now all that's left is to send the receipts from New York to Connecticut, letting them know that my tickets are paid and I am ready to have a license again. New York sends a letter to this effect to my New York apartment. I am in Seattle. Luckily my former roommate opens my mail, so he was able to forward it to Connecticut for me.
I wait 5 days and begin the calls to the CT office to see if it has been cleared. I only have 2 weeks to get my Washington license before leaving to pick up my car in Texas. Each day, license is still not cleared and "people" at the CT DMV ask me to call back later. Finally, my former roommate calls me again and says I have received a letter from CT informing me that the paperwork I sent them was insufficient.
I receive a letter from New York stating my license is cleared of all restrictions and send THIS to Connecticut, sure that it will suffice. How wrong am I? Dead wrong. After another week of waiting for CT to process this, I finally get someone on the phone to tell me that this is also insufficient. What they need are actual receipts with ticket numbers on them.
Now I'm on a plane to Texas. I no longer have the choice of resolving this issue in Washington. I'll have to resolve while I'm in Texas, get a Texas license, then drive back to Washington and get a Washington license. Awesome.
So I'm back on the phone with the New York DMV trying to get the correct paperwork. For the first two days I am never able to get through to a human. I spend 15 minutes listening and maneuvering the automated phone system only to then be put through to a message that informs me: "We're sorry. There is no one to take your call at this time. Please call again later." Click.
WTF?!!!
Finally I call a DIFFERENT office and speak to something with DNA. Possibly ape DNA, but still, no longer dealing with an angry phone robot. He can't find the ticket numbers I am referring to. As it turns out, the SECOND insurance ticket (which we thought maybe didn't exist after all) DID actually exist, only under a different spelling of my name, So $340 later he promises to send over the paperwork so that I may then overnight it to Connecticut (who won't take a fax) for processing.
Two days later, paperwork still hasn't arrived, so I call again. This time I speak to the same person who remembers me. He's like the Jesus of the DMV. He promises to fax my paperwork immediately and I verify the fax number with him. Twice.
Five minutes later my cell phone starts ringing. When I answer, I hear the soothing tones of a fax machine on the other end of the line. Steve is attempting to fax my cell phone, not my fax. So I call back and ask to speak to him. A woman informs me that "Steve just left the office for the day."
Are you fucking kidding me?
But the woman can clearly see the fax not going through and sends the paperwork. Finally. I am on my way to victory with the reinforced knowledge of never sending a man to do a woman's job (i.e. "anything"). Sorry, Steve. Maybe you aren't really DMV Jesus after all.
I overnight the paperwork to Connecticut. I call back every single day. Each time they almost refuse to even check and see if my license is cleared, because, as they explain to me impatiently, "these things take 7 to 10 business days to process." Still, I ask them to go ahead and make my 45 minute cell phone call worth the $150 in roaming fees I'll be paying for it worth something and they check, and infuriatingly enough, they are correct.
Until Monday. I called first thing in the morning and got the same rigmarole about 7 to 10 business days. Then for shits and giggles I call back in the afternoon. It's done. My license has been cleared in all states! Thank you, imaginary DMV Jesus!!!
I rush to the Texas DMV with the proper paperwork which I have spent the past few days obtaining (due to my think-ahead-to-the-next-inevitable-uphill-battle strategy of trying to beat them at their own game). I wait in line for over an hour, in which time I am able to rummage through an empty desk, find a DMV handbook, take the practice test in the book twice, and make friends with a few of the other flourescently-lit victims in line.
Finally, I am about four people from the front of the line. One of the two clerks on duty stands up to announce "It is now 4:20. We will no longer be giving any written tests." Aside from the oddly (coincidental?) timing of DMV shutdowns and nationwide marijuana smoke breaks, this news is not hilarious at all. But I remain in line, determined to get one thing accomplished. I make it to the counter, fill in the necessary forms, take the eye test, get fingerprinted, pay the $24 fee, and get my receipt to come back for the written test.
TODAY: I arrive at the opening of the DMV. Apparently, I was a minute later than everyone else in the county as there is already a full parking lot and a 30-person line. I whip out my handy receipt, though, and am able to skip past those poor assholes directly to the testing booth for my 15-minute unsupervised test which could have EASILY been done on the previous day. Whatever, I'm in and out and back at the front of the line, where I am told that in the past 15 minutes, all available driving test slots have been filled. Officer WasteMyTime recommends I return tomorrow at 7am in order to stand in line some more in hopes of getting a spot tomorrow.
Assuming I pass the test, I should have a license by tomorrow, just in time for my trip back to Seattle the following day.
If I don't have a license tomorrow, expect Franky to post a link to these headlines: "Denton woman kills entire population of Texas in biggest case of non-vehicular road rage ever seen."
"New levels of Hell created for entire Department of Motor Vehicles."
"Hell rejects DMV employees; AFRAID."
"DMV ascends to heaven and pisses off angels"
"New Holy War begun, in which angels and devils fight together against bureaucrats."
Also: "EXTRA! No asshole stinky or dirty enough for the DMV's mother!"
As I wait in line tomorrow, pointlessly, I will pretend I am instead waiting in line for something good, like the premiere of a new Star Wars movie. But like one made by the good 1970's Lucas, not the craptacular shitfest-producing current Lucas that is trying to ruin my childhood with his special effects machines.
Fucking. George. Lucas.
Let's start at the beginning.
Fall 2002. I leave the Mercury lounge in NYC on a cold rainy night and drive for about a block when I get pulled over. I had intended to fasten my seatbelt at the first red light, but before I could get that far I was stopped by a police officer and ticketed. Okay. My fault. It's bullshit, but it's my fault. Officer Crabgash asks for my registration and insurance, which I give him. But in the dark I handed him an old insurance card. He could have simply remarked "Ma'am you're insurance is expired." I would have winced at the "Ma'am" part, then quickly handed him the correct, NOT expired card that was also in my glove compartment. Instead he writes me an extra ticket for expired insurance. When I inform him he has made a mistake he replies, "Too late. Already wrote the ticket." When he did not burst into flames, I knew the Jedi Mind Trick was not altogether infallible. Fucking George Lucas!
Then he says I can mail in the ticket with a copy of proof of insurance and it will all go away. I drove away and did as the nice officer instructed and never heard from the NY DMV about the ticket again. Problem solved. Right?
Let's skip ahead.
Summer 2004: I get an amazing once-in-a-lifetime shot to tool around on tour with David Bowie and The Polyphonic Spree for ten days. Pretty fucking rad, right? I was excited. So excited, in fact, that as I am driving on the Upper West Side of Manhattan I forget to stop at one little old crosswalk-stop sign, right in front of Officer McParkedNearby. Shit!
He is all set to let me off with a warning, due to my "Oops! I have blonde hair, which makes me stupid..teehee!" routine, which by the way, usually works. But he calls in my license and informs me that I have a suspended license.
What???
So instead I get another ticket for driving without a license and am urged to clear this up with both New York and Connecticut (where my license was issued) ASAFP. So I spend the next few days trying to get a human being on the phone just to find out HOW to even go about paying a ticket I no longer have a copy of. After 20-odd hours of automated voice menus and busy signals I shitcan the entire thing, vow never to drive again and throw my phone at a hotel concierge (in front of Russell Crowe who watched admiringly. Sorry, dude).
This single decision will later cost me over a thousand dollars, eight weeks of my life, 300 hours on the telephone (200 of those on "Hold"), buckets of tears, the wrath of my parents, and the will to live.
Summer 2005: I move to Seattle, Washington, and attempt to get a new license. Here's my logic: none of the DMVs so far have even installed a fax machine; surely their records can't be connected between states. Maybe they won't find out my license is suspended in Connecticut, and I can put this whole mess behind me.
Get it? 'Cause that's the punchline.
After filling out forms and passing the eye test, my Seattle DMV employee looks suspiciously at a printed paper in front of her. She eyeballs me, surveys up and down and then avoids eye contact as she asks for the $20 fee required for me to take my written test. I hand over the cash and THE INSTANT it leaves my hand, she looks back at the paper as if she is a news anchor and someone just handed this to her on air. "This just in: it appears your license is suspended in CT and NY. We won't be able to give you the driver's test. Oh, and also I can't refund the money you JUST gave me, because you neglected to inform me that you had a suspended license."
Me: "I didn't know it was suspended."
Her: "Too bad. So sad. Your Dad." (I'm paraphrasing)
This time the Jedi Mind Trick did work. Only apparently I was willing her to be a cruel-ass fuckstain. Lucas!!
By this time, I am also negotiating the purchase of a new car to be picked up during an upcoming two-week trip to Texas. My parents are helping me pick it up, so now they are also involved. I love them, but sometimes dealing with the DMV is almost more fun. The point is, I have a very limited time in which to resolve the no-license having issue. So I spend another half day on the phone until finally someone at the Albany office of the New York DMV picks up the plastic ringing-thingy on his desk that has been disturbing his nap.
I tell him my predicament and he informs me that I can contest the first no insurance ticket, which will take 3 months to resolve. Or I can pay the fines and try to get the money back later. This will enable me to at least get a driver's license in the meantime. He also says there is no record of the second ticket, which I am relieved about, and set about paying off all the fines.
Ticket: $380
Misdemeanor charge: $500 (apparently no insurance is a criminal offense as well as traffic violation)
Fee to the State of Connecticut for reinstating my license: $125
Sucking the giant hairy dick of the Department of Motor Vehicles: Priceless.
So now all that's left is to send the receipts from New York to Connecticut, letting them know that my tickets are paid and I am ready to have a license again. New York sends a letter to this effect to my New York apartment. I am in Seattle. Luckily my former roommate opens my mail, so he was able to forward it to Connecticut for me.
I wait 5 days and begin the calls to the CT office to see if it has been cleared. I only have 2 weeks to get my Washington license before leaving to pick up my car in Texas. Each day, license is still not cleared and "people" at the CT DMV ask me to call back later. Finally, my former roommate calls me again and says I have received a letter from CT informing me that the paperwork I sent them was insufficient.
I receive a letter from New York stating my license is cleared of all restrictions and send THIS to Connecticut, sure that it will suffice. How wrong am I? Dead wrong. After another week of waiting for CT to process this, I finally get someone on the phone to tell me that this is also insufficient. What they need are actual receipts with ticket numbers on them.
Now I'm on a plane to Texas. I no longer have the choice of resolving this issue in Washington. I'll have to resolve while I'm in Texas, get a Texas license, then drive back to Washington and get a Washington license. Awesome.
So I'm back on the phone with the New York DMV trying to get the correct paperwork. For the first two days I am never able to get through to a human. I spend 15 minutes listening and maneuvering the automated phone system only to then be put through to a message that informs me: "We're sorry. There is no one to take your call at this time. Please call again later." Click.
WTF?!!!
Finally I call a DIFFERENT office and speak to something with DNA. Possibly ape DNA, but still, no longer dealing with an angry phone robot. He can't find the ticket numbers I am referring to. As it turns out, the SECOND insurance ticket (which we thought maybe didn't exist after all) DID actually exist, only under a different spelling of my name, So $340 later he promises to send over the paperwork so that I may then overnight it to Connecticut (who won't take a fax) for processing.
Two days later, paperwork still hasn't arrived, so I call again. This time I speak to the same person who remembers me. He's like the Jesus of the DMV. He promises to fax my paperwork immediately and I verify the fax number with him. Twice.
Five minutes later my cell phone starts ringing. When I answer, I hear the soothing tones of a fax machine on the other end of the line. Steve is attempting to fax my cell phone, not my fax. So I call back and ask to speak to him. A woman informs me that "Steve just left the office for the day."
Are you fucking kidding me?
But the woman can clearly see the fax not going through and sends the paperwork. Finally. I am on my way to victory with the reinforced knowledge of never sending a man to do a woman's job (i.e. "anything"). Sorry, Steve. Maybe you aren't really DMV Jesus after all.
I overnight the paperwork to Connecticut. I call back every single day. Each time they almost refuse to even check and see if my license is cleared, because, as they explain to me impatiently, "these things take 7 to 10 business days to process." Still, I ask them to go ahead and make my 45 minute cell phone call worth the $150 in roaming fees I'll be paying for it worth something and they check, and infuriatingly enough, they are correct.
Until Monday. I called first thing in the morning and got the same rigmarole about 7 to 10 business days. Then for shits and giggles I call back in the afternoon. It's done. My license has been cleared in all states! Thank you, imaginary DMV Jesus!!!
I rush to the Texas DMV with the proper paperwork which I have spent the past few days obtaining (due to my think-ahead-to-the-next-inevitable-uphill-battle strategy of trying to beat them at their own game). I wait in line for over an hour, in which time I am able to rummage through an empty desk, find a DMV handbook, take the practice test in the book twice, and make friends with a few of the other flourescently-lit victims in line.
Finally, I am about four people from the front of the line. One of the two clerks on duty stands up to announce "It is now 4:20. We will no longer be giving any written tests." Aside from the oddly (coincidental?) timing of DMV shutdowns and nationwide marijuana smoke breaks, this news is not hilarious at all. But I remain in line, determined to get one thing accomplished. I make it to the counter, fill in the necessary forms, take the eye test, get fingerprinted, pay the $24 fee, and get my receipt to come back for the written test.
TODAY: I arrive at the opening of the DMV. Apparently, I was a minute later than everyone else in the county as there is already a full parking lot and a 30-person line. I whip out my handy receipt, though, and am able to skip past those poor assholes directly to the testing booth for my 15-minute unsupervised test which could have EASILY been done on the previous day. Whatever, I'm in and out and back at the front of the line, where I am told that in the past 15 minutes, all available driving test slots have been filled. Officer WasteMyTime recommends I return tomorrow at 7am in order to stand in line some more in hopes of getting a spot tomorrow.
Assuming I pass the test, I should have a license by tomorrow, just in time for my trip back to Seattle the following day.
If I don't have a license tomorrow, expect Franky to post a link to these headlines: "Denton woman kills entire population of Texas in biggest case of non-vehicular road rage ever seen."
"New levels of Hell created for entire Department of Motor Vehicles."
"Hell rejects DMV employees; AFRAID."
"DMV ascends to heaven and pisses off angels"
"New Holy War begun, in which angels and devils fight together against bureaucrats."
Also: "EXTRA! No asshole stinky or dirty enough for the DMV's mother!"
As I wait in line tomorrow, pointlessly, I will pretend I am instead waiting in line for something good, like the premiere of a new Star Wars movie. But like one made by the good 1970's Lucas, not the craptacular shitfest-producing current Lucas that is trying to ruin my childhood with his special effects machines.
Fucking. George. Lucas.
posted by kittenpants at 5:44 PM
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