In advance… I AM NOT THE HERO IN THIS STORY. There isn’t one. This is just a bunch of stuff that happened.
This last week, I had to go to the DMV. Throughout my life, I’ve had very few problems with the DMV. I’m usually very good at it. I’m the guy the DMV worker never thinks about again because NOTHING HAPPENED. I’m not usually the bad story the clerk tells at lunch while they’re training the new person.
That said…
In 2021, I was a SMALL problem for my local branch, because I renewed my plates online. (For non-MO residents, every 2 years, we have to hand the DMV a bunch of nonsense paperwork and pay them $60 for a sticker to put on our license plates that PROVES we…paid $60…) After a couple of weeks went by, I hadn’t received my stickers in the mail, and I called the DMV at the state capitol. They told me I could take my receipt to my local branch, and they’d give me the stickers with no problem. So, I went in…and my local branch wanted me to pay ANOTHER $60. I argued. For 15 minutes. Until they gave me a FORM to fill out for the capitol to reimburse me for the double-payment I was being forced to make by my local terrorist-branch of the DMV (which, incidentally, is now CLOSED). The reimbursement came 4 months later after several follow-up calls. …but before that, it had always been simple… Until now.
In mid-2021, I got a new car. That story is documented elsewhere… My old car had started to require so many repairs that getting a NEW one made more sense than keeping the old one. So I went to a Kia dealership and they swindled me into buying an used Chevy Equinox, despite my saying, “I’m NOT buying today, I’m just seeing what I can afford…” (I saw every shitty dealer-trick the guy pulled. I knew he was pulling them. But I liked and NEEDED the car…for my sins…)
Long story short…this car has been one of the biggest mistakes I’ve ever made and having it for the 1.5 years I’ve had it has been about the same as just repairing the old one every few months… But that’s tangential to the DMV story…
It’s 2023. My plates were up for renewal again at the end of January. The lemon of a car I’d bought was in the shop in the middle of the month, when I normally would’ve renewed to be ahead of the curve…so I really only had the opportunity to obtain the (passed) emissions test and go to the DMV on 1/28. Much later than I was comfortable with…but unavoidable…
The DMV branch I have been going to for 20+ years, as I said above, had CLOSED. I didn’t know this until I was up against the clock…there’s still a “for lease” sign on the door. I’m pretty sure no one wants to lease it because they don’t know enough priests to exorcise the hell-mouth residue out of the walls…but I digress (as usual).
With the usual branch closed, I had to find a new one. The one that came recommended to me was closed for the day by the time I got there. So, I went to a third location in the same day and found it open…but miserable. It was one large room with stains on the floor and wall of an undisclosed nature. The posters on the walls were decades old. The lights flickered… But it was a DMV. And I was #35 in line…while they were serving #22. (SPOILER ALERT: This DMV location turns out to be the BEST part of the story and will be the branch I use from now on.)
After a LONG wait in a room with too many people with too few masks in a COVID world, my number was called. They asked for my paperwork. I provided all of it. I had EVERYTHING… I was ready. I ALWAYS am… Except… My insurance company had failed to report to the state that my policy had been renewed. And that was a problem. I needed documentation I didn’t have, because Liberty Mutual no longer sends it and expects you to just HAVE their app ready to go in any given situation…and they don’t do their diligence in reporting their customers’ policy updates to the state. In short, I couldn’t renew that day…the clerk was nice about it and explained what they needed to see–which I did not have–in a way that made it clear it was MY issue, but did not make me feel like I could’ve done anything differently coming in… They were so nice, I even thanked them and apologized for wasting their time… This was a defeating moment, but after all that followed, I’d describe it as pleasant.
Come Monday, I had sorted out what I needed from Liberty Mutual (but as of now, I have not yet chosen my next auto insurance company to replace Liberty Mutual, who is dead to me). I was ready to go. Again.
But…
I got to the place I’d hoped to go the previous Saturday. The nicer DMV. The one with good lighting, good chairs, and clean walls and floors. The state-run one… The professionals… And I was SECOND in line. They called me up and I handed over my paperwork. My insurance was in line and I was ready to pay………
And the clerk told me that the name on my property tax (which was CONFIRMED to be paid in full, regardless of the name) did not match the name on my vehicle title. (The wall-stained DMV did not mention any of this…I don’t think it was an issue to them.)
Now…there are reasons for that. I won’t go into them here because this is already too long and it’s also not your business…but suffice to say, anyone with a brain in their head would understand what happened, renew the plates, and tell me what to fix for next time. But this DMV clerk was not in a kind mood.
I was surprised. I was confused. I asked, calmly but pleadingly, “What do I need to do? What happens now?” Because they hadn’t offered that information, up to this point.
Among the things the soulless husk behind the desk said to me were, “I don’t know what idiot gave you plates in the first place.” And “if you’d paid attention to the notice we sent, you’d be prepared.” (I had EVERY document listed on the notice, btw.) And “What you have here doesn’t matter.” And “There’s nothing you can do.”
They were abusive. They were unhelpful. They were mean. They were wrong.
Customer service matters and if you’re BAD at it, you bring some things onto yourself. In my job, when I deal with a customer who is maybe unfamiliar with the process or even SCREAMING about wrongs others have perpetrated upon them before they got to me, I smile and try to help them feel like we’re in it together. (And I’ve been doing that for 13 YEARS.) If there’s a problem, THEY don’t have a problem, WE do… I don’t make them feel stupid. I don’t make them feel like they’re an irritant. I try to help move them toward a solution and see light at the end of the tunnel, even if the tunnel is long and costly. So often, it’s not what you say, but how you say it. Unlike the person at the considerably shabbier DMV, the clerk at the “nice” DMV said it as rudely, condescendingly, insultingly, and self-righteously as possible.
And I reacted.
I did not yell. I did not swear. But I told the truth. (This may be a slight paraphrase, but it’s pretty close.)
“Maybe the person who gave me my plates did it because they could tell everything was in order and they didn’t care about minor details. Or maybe they’re not so small and worthless that they need to wave around what little power they have over complete strangers who are just trying to do what’s right. Or maybe they had a good life where they don’t go home every day and have to slowly drink, drug, or eat themselves into an early grave–and by the way, you look great, no one would ever guess… Now, since you’re not going to help me, why don’t you give me back my papers and I’ll go where a professional can help me and never come back here again…and you……will still…be……here.”
They didn’t look at me. They didn’t say another word. Their lips were shut tight. They put my papers in my folder and handed it to me. I walked away. I’m pretty sure they cried when I was out of earshot.
I’m not the hero. That was wrong. I was wrong. It felt AMAZING. But I was wrong.
The next day, I was at the Recorder of Deeds office for a significant amount of time with my dad (again, long story, but he was needed and helpful). We had few actual problems beyond the standard bureaucracy, and we got everything in order. I returned to the DMV with the stains on the walls and floors, where they had been nice to me the previous weekend. I was there for about 10-15 minutes before I had my stickers in-hand. It worked out. NEVER assume the “ugly” place is the worse one. (I used to know that.)
I’m still not the hero.
I feel awful.
I was wronged. Multiple times. And in response I degraded and made an office clerk who was stuck in their shitty job cry. I was wronged. But I was wrong. The DMV sucks, but I made it suck more this week.
My license plate situation is taken care of. It’s over. I have no further business there.
I am going to go back there early on Monday morning. And I am going to have an armful of store-sealed donuts and a Starbucks gift card for each window (I believe there were five–credit to one of my coworkers for this part of the idea). And I am going to say, “I was here on Monday of last week and had a problem. The person assisting me was unable to help and I responded rudely. I would like to apologize and give you all these donuts and Starbucks gift cards to enjoy today.”
It won’t fix it. But it’s something. We’re all humans. We’re all fucked up. We should all be forgiven, and we should all forgive. Even when the system is broken and the face of it is a jerk.
Ask me if I did it and how it went, please.
And renew your plates before the last day of the month. You never know what problem beyond your control is going to come up.
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Today’s Listening:
Gord Downie: “Secret Path” and “Away is Mine”
Nick Cave: “Ghosteen”