Businesses that employ professional drivers require applicants to submit copies of their driving records. And where do applicants go to get copies? Duhn-duhn-duhn-duhn . . . yes, Virginia, the Department of Motor Vehicles . . . there, there, I didn’t mean to make you cry!
It could have been worse. It took only three hours, and in the end, I got what I needed. I could have walked away empty-handed. DMV could have closed for the day before calling my number, or asked for obscure documents I wouldn’t have had any way of knowing I’d need. Had I been foolish enough to complain, it’s possible I wouldn’t have been able to walk away at all . . . these days DMV offices have armed guards to keep the citizenry in line.
How can American DMV offices so authentically replicate the Soviet state bureaucracies of Stalin’s time? Where do they get the training? Do they go to seminars in Moscow or Pyongyang?
If “used car salesman” is the most despised profession in America, “trip to the DMV” has to be the most despised experience. Okay, okay, officer, I’ll shut up and get back in line now . . .