DMV experience with my son...

I dislike the word HATE.
It is such a harsh word—
so extreme.
And to boot is it a four letter word
—It is a word that I try not to use—
it is such an absolute word-
not giving room for any doubt.
With that being said
I really hate having to go to the DMV

(Department of Motor Vehicles)

I have found in years past that the DMV only serves to set back my eternal progression.
In the past I have had a number of really bad experiences with the incompetency and general bad service to shake my faith in this organization. It frustrates me to see my tax dollars at work—we pay them for the privilege for them to treat us poorly—to give us little to no customer service, and the most frustrating part in the whole matter is:

we have no choice.

They have total control of you.

In a free market if you do not like how you are being treated you can take your business else where—but that doesn’t work with the DMV. As I walk out the door the feeling of dread came over me. I am ready and willing to accept that something bad or frustrating will take place upon my visit to their office. I want to be positive for my son—he was so excited for this right of passage—and as much as I wanted to be there to experience it with him—I didn’t want to be there….We even paid to have him take a driving class so it would minimize the amount of time we actually have to spend at the DMV.

Upon arriving at the DMV I was pleasantly surprised that I found a parking spot right away—(in the past I have had to circle the building many times stalking those that were leaving) I got out and hurried in to get into line—my son did not realize that we were in a race and took his sweet time coming in.—I actually walked up to the front of the line to get my number—I said “I am here to get my son’s permit”(he was not in as of yet) “ Do you have him with you?”(What I need the actual child here with me? Who knew?) He came in shortly there after….We got the form we needed to fill out with our number and I settled in preparing to wait. I was taking my time filling out the form when I realized that in their odd alphabetic number system that we were actually the next number for the “B’s”—which doesn’t mean a whole lot since the letters go all the way to K’s or something like that—and there is no rhyme or reason as to the way the letters are called—at least not to us lay people.

Imagine my surprise that within a minute of filling out the form we were called up? I did not have the punks’ social security # and was in the midst of making the call to get it from home when the woman actually looked it up in her system for us. Simple enough—but not what I would have expected—I paid my $7 and then we had to get his picture taken—again it all happened so fast that I was not prepared with my camera. I wanted a picture of him getting his picture—this was taken just after his mug shot…

He walked over we exchanged a few words and they called him up to get his permit. I felt like asking what was the catch—this was far to easy and painless?!!!
We actually were in and out of the DMV in

17 record breaking minutes.!!
I about passed out from shock...
this does not happen in my life...or anyone i know!?
17 minutes??? Say it isn't so?

Now I have actually been in and out in a shorter amount of time but that was the day the computers were down and they could do nothing for us---but today we had actual success. I had to take back all those bad words I had been thinking—my eternal progression stayed intact today—do miracles never cease?

So do ya wanna see something funny? This is the picture the last time I had to take the punk to the DMV to get an ID card.

He was almost 13—and was leaving home to travel with his scout troop for the national jamboree. He looks so little—especially when you compare it to todays picture.
Just a wee bit of change has taken place in the last 3 1/2years—kinda hard to believe he was ever that little…. Kinda hard to believe he will be operating a motor vehicle--legally....