The DMV Story

If you don't want to hear yet another story about the inefficiency of governmental offices, the waste of tax payers money and the motivation/intelligence of some government employees, don't bother reading this issue.

The name of the office has been omitted to protect, well, me. And to avoid hurting anyone's feelings who may be a dedicated public servant. 

First, some positive advice based on my experience. If you have a local, small-town office, do what you can there. At our local office, we can make an appointment, no waiting, they tell us what to bring and what it will cost in advance, and work with us toward accomplishing the goal.

Quite a different experience at the "big-city", full-service office two hours away. (Big city being relative.) Two signs greet you in several places as you arrive. The first: "Cash or check only. No debit or credit cards." Say what?!? Who carries their checkbook these days? We wanted to change from regular plates to VA plates. We knew the registration would be less, because Pat is 100% disabled. What we didn't know was how much less. "Is there an ATM on site," we ask. "No," answers the helpful lady, "The closest one is down at the Tesoro station." We take stock of our cash. $90 and change. Decide to wait to find out the price before driving to the Tesoro station. Our first big mistake. We try to walk into the door and are immediately stopped by the Door Guard. I assume that is her job title because, as far as I could tell, her only job was to keep people from entering without going over to the podium and checking in with the Number Person. Her only job appeared to be assigning numbers to arriving customers and making sure they were at the correct place for their business. If I were trying to streamline the process (and in the process reduce cost by eliminating a job), appropriate placement of the podium, or installation of a buzzer-operated door would do the trick. In addition, it IS a little off-putting to be chased down and questioned when trying to enter a public building.

Anyway, we received our number and we were told to go in and get in line. The "line" is really interesting at this office. The good news is... ..you don't have to stand, as you do in many government offices. You get to sit. But.... even though you have a number, which they can call, you cannot sit just anywhere. You sit at the end of the line in the appropriate row of chairs (there are two rows). Then you move up through the line by getting up and moving to the next chair. All they need is music and it could be a game. However, we had the questionable good fortune to be grabbed by Jay, on his way in from somewhere, as he said, "I'll take you at Window 2." Yay! Something going our way! (Little did I know....)

Then I read Sign #2 more closely. "No commercial vehicles or dealerships during the lunch hour 11 AM - 1 PM". Between the obvious grammar issues and ambiguous meaning, this sign gave me a bit to ponder while I waited.

We explained to Jay that we wanted to get VA plates and Pat was disabled, and therefore qualified for the discount. We inquired what the discount would be, to determine at this early time if the drive to the Tesoro would be required. He said, "Hmm, I don't know. I've never done one of these before. I'll have to go check with my supervisor." He disappears for 10 minutes in the back, then returns. He patiently explains that we need a letter from the VA stating that she is disabled. She shows him the paperwork she brought in that the VA mailed to her that states service-connected disability 100%. He says he needs to check with his supervisor again and disappears in the back for another 10 minutes. Upon his return, his asks where she got that form because it looks like she just printed it off a computer. It doesn't look like a letter. (I guess it didn't say "Dear Master Sergeant," on the top and "Yours truly, The Veterans Administration" on the bottom! She answered, "No, it was mailed to her, with some other documents." After more consultation, he came out and explained the process he wanted us to follow. We were to renew our current registration, which doesn't expire until the end of the month, and then pay a small transfer fee to trade them in for VA plates. Then we'd get the discount when we renewed the plates next year. That doesn't make any sense at all. If we exchange them first, we can renew them at the discounted price! And that's what we said. Which prompted another visit to .....you guessed it...his supervisor! When he returned, he said, "We'll accommodate you." How sweet.... He proceeds to spend a long time trying to find the correct form, which involves a phone call to the supervisor, who then actually makes an appearance to try to help him find the form on his computer. At some point she finally says, -"I'll go find it on my computer and send it to your mailbox." She leaves, I assume to go do just that. Then he says, "I need the plates off your truck to start the process." So Pat goes out to the parking lot to get the plates. I'm waiting by the window, Jay seems to be looking at his computer, when one of three other employees goes to the printer, finds  something in there, says, "Jay, is this yours?" To which he responds, "Oh, uh, yeah, sorry, I was just spacing out here." A glimmer of self-awareness! After what seemed like an hour, but was probably only 30 minutes, Pat finally comes back in with one plate. "I couldn't get the other one off," she explains. Really? No tools in the truck? No Leatherman all-purpose tool in the pocket? (An aside: Pat has a marvelous Leatherman all-purpose tool which she now rarely carries with her. Why? They confiscate it at the airport and at most federal buildings. For the number of times she needs it, it's just not worth it. Now back to the story.) We asked idiot-slug Jay if he had a screw driver or pair of pliers we could borrow. He said no. Didn't look around, didn't ask around, didn't consider for a few moments, just "no," without hesitation. So Pat walked over to the safety check window, asked the fellow there, who happened to have.....you guessed it!...a Leatherman tool! Which she used to remove the second plate. Ok, having both plates, he starts the actual process. At this point, he decides the form the VA sent her that has all the boxes checked for 100% service-connected disability doesn't look enough like an actual letter for him to check the box "VA letter". So he asked if it came with any other letter-type document. She went out to the car to look for the rest of the packet. After she brought that in, he talked to his supervisor again, finally accepting the documents. As we near the end, he says, "That will be $105.79." As you recall, we had slightly more than $90 in cash and no checkbook. We explain to him that we are going to have to drive to the Tesoro station to go to the ATM. He mentions that the office is now closed. (What!?! We've been at this for over 2 hours?!?) However, he's willing to wait if I hurry. Which is when we remind him we need our plates back to to drive anywhere. Doh! 

Then he makes the comment that pushes me over the edge of the cliff of patience. "Well, you were the one who demanded to get your plates TODAY." DEMANDED? Today? Yes, more than two hours ago! And without being cheated out of an additional $80! As I started to flip out, he started to say, "We can set everything aside and you can come back..." Pat pushed me out the door, plates in hand, and said, "Drive to the ATM and get money!" Of course I never pay attention when she drives, and she never reads street signs, so I left on a prayer. I found it. A $100 withdrawal cost me $3.50. But not before the Hello Kitty design so confused me (because I was in a rush) that I pushed wrong buttons twice before succeeding in my mission.

I returned, parked in the handicapped spot (they probably don't care much because the offices are closed and it might be difficult to ticket me without plates anyway), and got out to run up to the door. I saw Pat coming out towards me. Oh, no! I missed it! He got tired of waiting! No, she  said, I just came out to meet you. (She didn't know that might be a mistake? She's supposed to stay on the INSIDE to open the door for me, like I stayed at the window so no-one would step up and start another transaction when she went out to the car!) We got to the door. Locked. Bang bang. Nothing. Bang bang. Nothing. Bang bang. Here comes slug! Yay! 

Don't worry, the story is almost done, as are we.

We hustle up to the window, and he says, "That will be $112.58." What happened to $105.79? A little extra for my trouble? Fortunately, I still had my original cash, so we paid, received our new plates, and went on our way.

Now, if we want the disabled plates, web have to go somewhere else, get a paper of some sort, then return and pay another transfer fee for the new plates. He told us this at the end of the process. Hmm.

And we get to do this all over again next week with the car. Yay!