Take a Number at the DMV
Posted: Saturday, November 21, 2009
by Marcia Calhoun Forecki
The box suspended from the ceiling of the DMV glowed a digital green. A pattern of small rectangles formed the number 64. I watched intently, waiting to see the rectangles rearrange themselves into 165.
"Next."
I leapt to the counter in two steps; before the clerk's voice had risen to the grey ceiling of the old rubber tiled room. The plastic sign on the counter identified the clerk as "Cheri." She ignored me for several seconds. I guess Cheri was miffed that I had flown to the counter before she had a chance to take another bite of the gargantuan cinnamon roll she was eating between customers. Cheri was still swallowing the latest bite of pastry when she looked up at me and held out her hand for my license. A speck of cinnamon had fallen on a chin hair and hung there. "If I can see that, I'm a cinch to nail the eye test," I thought.
I handed over the hologram card.
"Organ donor?"
"Yes."
"Would you like to register to vote?"
"No."
"No?"
"I mean, I'm already registered."
"Do you wear prescription glasses or contact lenses?"
"Yes."
"Eyes blue?
"Yes."
"Hair brown?"
"At the moment, yes."
"OK, just one more piece of identification to verify. Weight still 150?"
I froze. I knew this was coming, and I had practiced my response: "To the best of my knowledge."
"Does that mean yes or no?"
"It means, as far as I know, I still weigh 150."
"Ma'am, you either do or you don't."
"Do you have any reason to believe I don't weigh 150."
"Ma'am, this information is important. What if someone stole your ID? Your physical description could prevent someone other than yourself from using it."
"My picture is on it. Who is going to notice whether the person using my driver's license weighs the same as what's listed there, when they can look at the picture and decide in 2 seconds. "
"Nevertheless, ma'am. . ."
"And why even put hair color on the license? Hair color is just plain worthless for identification. Anyone can change their hair color." I was at that moment looking directly down at Cheri's own black roots.
"I'm not asking about hair color."
"Well then, what about eye color? Ever heard of colored contacts?"
I'm asking about your weight, Ma'am. Why don't you step back from the counter. Let me take a look."
"Excuse me, the State is not going to put information on an official document based on a clerk taking a look."
"Ma'am, you are holding everyone up. Just tell me how much you weigh, for the record, please."
Just then, the digital number counter over my head clicked.
"189," called the woman at the next counter. "189."
Cheri began typing. "I heard you the first time, Ma'am. 189 it is."
I intentionally failed the eye exam, returned the next day, and renewed my driver's license. Weight: 145.
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Top-level comments on this article: (2 total)Love your sense of humor, Marcia, and your talent in putting it on paper. Keep up the good work.Thanks for the encouragement. See you soon.
Marcia, Marcia, Marcia! Have you noticed, there are 'Cheris' everywhere? I loved your story!Thanks, Brianna. I meet Cheri's everywhere!
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