Snippets of Life at the DMV
...and some snippets from my own life
Happy Sunday! Another big week in these parts… Jack started first grade (with an earthquake and a brand new teacher!), I continue to crank out an impossible amount of work at the day job, the WGA Board Campaign is ramping up (voting starts Sept 4, the same day as Candidates Night!), I saw some friends, celebrated some successes, read an amazing script, vented about some failures, and sent more than a handful of angry/sad/confused/happy/overwhelmed voice memos. I may have also volunteered for a few roles with the PTA (ha. ha. ha.)… like I said, it’s been a big week!
However, the thing I dreaded most this week was going to the DMV. Everyone knows how miserable the DMV is— it’s so miserable, there’s a trope about it. And here’s the thing: it’s all true! But amidst the misery and bureaucratic bullshit, there are also some pretty fantastic moments of humanity, if you’re looking for them (and thankfully, I’m always looking for them).
Snippets of Life at the DMV
I felt an unearned sense of pride as I walked into the DMV on Thursday morning— I had an appointment, I uploaded the forms, and I’d already woken up early to write an episode before school drop-off, so I wouldn’t be feeling stressed if this took longer than expected. In and out in an hour, I mumbled to myself like a mantra.
As soon as I walked in, the elderly security guard looked at me (or rather, at my chest) with wide eyes. “Appointment line?” I asked. He motioned to the long line I was already standing in. Admittedly, this wasn’t starting off great.
I pulled out my confirmation email on my phone (A-student behavior) and couldn’t help but overhear the conversation next to me at Window 12. Armenian James Gandolfini was shouting into the window at a woman with sandy-brown hair and an unfortunate haircut, “Is this your first day on the job?!”
I couldn’t help but notice the woman had a plaque right behind her head that read, “Congrats on Ten Years of Service!” Clearly not her first day on the job.
“No sir,” she replied calmly, as she had probably done several times before.
“Well, it must be because that’s what four other people told me and I’m telling you I’m not coming back here again, lady!”
His unsound logic aside, his frustration felt very real. The fact he had a folder’s worth of documents somehow proved he wasn’t messing around.
I was called forward to the front of the appointment line and sadly did not get to hear the rest of the exchange. The man behind the desk smiled and motioned for me to step forward. “I have an appointment,” I dumbly explained (um yes, why else would I be in the appointment line?)
He nodded urging me for more information, which I didn’t have. I handed him my phone with the confirmation. Surely that would explain everything! He typed some keys into the computer, then handed me back my phone with a genuine smile on his face this time. “You sure do have an appointment. Guess you weren’t lying about that.”
“Do people actually lie about that?” I asked before I could stop myself.
“You’d be surprised,” he replied and then explained that I’d be getting a text message with my ticket number (so fancy!) and I’d wait for my turn at the window.
While I waited, I caught glimpses of other window conversations— there was an elderly woman with an oversized Halloween tote who hadn’t paid her car registration for years because she thought her husband had been paying it, and now she owed more than the car was even worth. That poor woman was at the window the entire time I was at the DMV.
There was also a young couple with matching glasses who were new to California and the States and held hands the entire time. He was getting his first ID and she was pregnant with their first baby. Exciting times for them both. At one point they asked the same “helpful” security guard if they could retake his picture because in all their guides the picture looked different. It was sweet. The DMV refused their request.
There were also the entitled young women and men who “swore I did all those things and how could I fail my test for the third tiiiiimmeee, can’t you please just give me a license, please?!” but the most heartbreaking one of these was the young woman who failed her eye test over and over and was handed tissues by the worker when she gently suggested she come back after an eye exam.
When it was my turn at the window (a few texts, lots of scrolling, and a chapter and a half of “Carrie Soto is Back!” later), I bounded over as fast as I could. The DMV worker helping me was a petite Asian woman, who was both masked and gloved, and was some sort of supervisor because she kept getting interrupted to give her signature. I liked her. I handed over the documents (including the passport I felt proud to remember, “just in case,”) and she asked me a few basic questions.
“Where’s your home bill?”
“I uploaded it,” I responded a little too smugly.
“We need a paper copy,” she replied bluntly.
My heart froze. I messed up! All traces of smugness were GONE!
“It doesn’t say that anywhere,” I stammered, knowing the lame excuse wouldn’t matter.
“I know, it’s kind of confusing. Uh… do you have car insurance?”
“Of course,” I straightened up. She was giving me a test and if I passed, I wouldn’t have to come back again!
“Do you have those documents and maybe your car registration with you?”
“Uh, not with me… but in my car… which is in the parking lot!” I was getting what she was hinting at.
She leaned forward. “I’ll give you two minutes. Go!”
Despite the fact I was wearing flip-flops, I channeled my fellow AHS Spirit Alum and recent gold-medal winner, Tara Davis (LOL), and sprinted like I hadn’t sprinted in years. I sprinted past disappointed teenagers and worried parents who were waiting at the driver’s test line, I sprinted past new citizens who were double-checking they had all their correct paperwork, and I sprinted past other working members of society who didn’t have much in common other than we all dreaded having to come to this place.
I made it back in two minutes with the required documents. The woman stamped my application and sent me to the other lines I’d have to wait in that day. I didn’t have to take a dreaded written test that day, I did have a beautiful glow in my picture from the impromptu sprint, but most importantly, I got my Real ID just in time for my license to expire, a feat even the DMV worker was impressed by.