Small town living is usually laid back and quiet. Fergettaboutit at the local DMV.
There was an old woman who loved to be rude. Got out of bed. Came to work in a mood. She worked at Window #3. There was no window #1, and at Window #2, there was a runny-nosed woman that looked like she was dying of Covid. The Shrew at Window #3 was my best option. But, let me start at the beginning.
Needing to renew my Nevada driver’s license, I’d studied until I was dreaming about white broken lines and crosswalks. Pedestrians jumping from the sidewalks. Intersections with green, yellow, and red blinking lights all going at the same time. I had down the correct answers for every question thrown at me and I was ready.
Yesterday, I dressed as if I was going to church. I washed and dried my hair carefully. By 6:45 AM I was out the door and on the long lonely road to the town just south of here, a 45 minute drive (one way). Of course, there was a little road work that blocked part of my route, but I arrived 15 minutes early to find out I would be the first in line.
#001 at the DMV is a primo spot. I probably could’ve sold my place in line to those not so punctual. This DMV is located in an old strip mall. There are four folding chairs outside the front door for the first lucky few. Other than that, old red X’s on the ground speak to a time when we all social distanced.
Yesterday was a new federal holiday. Maybe in New York City. Not in the desert towns of Nevada. The DMV did not observe said holiday and would be opening at 8 AM. This might be what put the woman at Window #3 in such a foul mood. Cantankerous. Desert hard. Windblown. Plain spoken. This woman was attractive until she spoke like a drill sergeant.
When the doors finally opened, there were four people behind me. I took the number from the machine. I will frame it.
June 20, 2022 — Nevada Desert DMV — #001.
Woman #3 immediately started shouting orders to the masses.
“Driver’s Licenses — Fill out the form on the table to the right — COM. PLETE. LY.”
As I filed out the double-sided form, the man who just needed a random form was taking a verbal beating from Window #3. I was praying for Window #2 until I saw the heap of used tissue sitting on her side of the plexiglass. I switched my prayers to Window #3. I would shower this woman with some random kindness.
Ten minutes had passed since I finished the form when my number was called.
Ah the sweet sound of #001.
“# 0.0.1. Report to Window #3. NOW.”
Walking a few steps to the window, she grabbed the form and immediately snapped at me.
“YOU didn’t sign the form. It’s not COM. PLETE.”
I had had enough. Period.
“On Page 2, the form clearly states that it will become invalid if not signed at the counter in front of a DMV representative, does it not?” Using my best 3rd Grade Teacher tone, she backed it on up.
That woman’s shriveled quicker than the legs on the Wicked Witch of the East when hit by Dorothy’s house. I was no Dorothy, but I certainly wasn’t going to take any rudeness from this State Employee.
Quicker than I can remember you must not park closer than 50 feet to a train track, she had entered my application, given me the eye test, taken my picture, and charged my credit card $17.25. No tests of any kind. My transaction was completed in less than 15 minutes. A record for any DMV visit I’ve ever had.
As I walked out the door, the woman continued to bark orders to her minions and customers. Her days must be tiring, causing grief to the masses.
All I know is this. For four years, I have a valid Nevada Driver’s License. It could outlive me. Time will tell. For now, that is an unpleasant activity checked off my list. In two weeks, I return to college, and with any luck at all, I return to work on August 9th. Life is what you make it.
Remember, don’t let the Witches of the East get you down. With a little tough love, they shrivel up.
More tomorrow.