I had to go to the DMV to get my license renewed. In North Carolina, if you’re under 58 you can now renew your license for 8 years, but if you’re over 58 you still have to renew every 5 years. Of course the day I went, it was about 110 degrees in the shade, and not a whole heck of a lot better inside the DMV. It was so crowded, and I stood in line for 2 hours just to get a number. The place was filthy, and people smelled so bad!
This little short man kept coming out and making these grand announcements: “If you’re here to do a driving test, we will not be conducting anymore today!”; “We do not accept credit or debit cards. You must have a check or pay in cash!”; “You are in the 9th circle of Hell and you will never escape!” Things like that.
I didn’t have cash, but I refused to get out of that Godforsaken line. I figured that once I got assigned my number, I’d still have an hour or so to run over to the ATM and get some cash. You know, in one of the worst neighborhoods in Charlotte. Finally I got up to the number assignment window. Once my paperwork had been reviewed and my number assigned, I asked how much I would need to pay. The woman looked at me in the eye and said, “Are you over 58?”
Let me stop and give you some information about me: I’m generally pretty nice. I attract people when I’m out that just tell me all kinds of things about themselves. Like the cashier girl at Target who leaned around my friend Lisa (who was paying for her purchases) to tell me (who wasn’t buying anything) all about the scratches she had on her arm. At fast food drive-thrus I’m called Sweetie, Honey, and Darlin’ a lot, and often I’m given a free dessert because they say I’m the nicest person they’ve spoken to all day.
This DMV woman, though, with her teased beehive hair-do, her Tammy Faye Baker-style makeup, and a uniform so tight that it looked like a button might pop off and hit me in the eye (thus blinding me and preventing me from getting my license renewed anyway), ticked me off! I threw down my purse and the Ikea catalog I had brought with me to while away the time I knew I’d be waiting, balled up my fists, yelled “It’s on!”, then threw myself over the counter at her, knocking her to the ground. In my mind anyway. In real life, I just said, “Really?” kind of sarcastically, then, “No. No, I’m not over 58.” So, she said, just as sarcastically, “Then it’s $32.”
And, my picture sucks!