I hate going to the DMV. 

The greatest deterrents: the lack of efficiency, standing in multiple lines, taking three hours to do a transaction that could actually take 15 minutes, getting DMV “gatekeepers” who act and talk to you like YOU are the problem, a BIG problem, the yelling, swearing customers that get everybody else worked up, and—did I mention the lines? I’m not good at queuing up for just about anything—and finally, how the entire experience can make you feel like a head of cattle in a herd heading to slaughter. 

I’m always so grateful when anyone at the DMV treats me like a human being, with courtesy, like they really want to help you complete your transaction. Today, it was the woman guard outside. Ahh! A real human interaction.

Yes, I had to go today to register my son’s car, a gift from his grandparents out-of-state. 

I tried going online ahead of time to get instructions, but the DMV website lacks clear communication, as inefficient as the physical office, so I showed up with what I hoped was the correct paperwork filled out correctly, enough to complete the transaction.

It wasn’t.

Today’s experience at the DMV included the woman yelling insults at her child inside her car parked next to the outside line. As she pulled out of her parking spot, not looking around, another car coming into the lot had to stop abruptly, and she cursed at them out her car window, yelling at them to slow down. 

There was the old, bow-legged man in front of me in line, looking a bit down-and-out. He was wearing a leather jacket and cowboy hat on a hot, muggy and smoky day. He was the only person in line not wearing a mask. I watched as he threw an old tin can top into the parking lot from the sidewalk. Then he put down a plastic cup he was drinking from, abandoning that too for someone else to throw away. Not able to stand as long as the line required, he finally ended up lying down on a bench.

After an hour and a half in the outside line, I finally got instructions inside the door. To drive my car into another line for VIN verification, a process of having someone look at the VIN number on the title to confirm it. That took another 40 minutes. Thirty-five of waiting. Five minutes of inspection. 

Then I had to wait by the door to be allowed back in again, where the woman gave me a number to go wait again. This time at least it was inside with air-conditioning. I took a demeaning plastic chair and watched the numbers tick down on the screen. 

Miraculously, mine came up only about 10 minutes later. Not bad for the DMV.

I reached the desk. That’s when I was told, I’d need to smog the car and come back another day to again stand in line outside, stand in line inside, and stand in line again to get new California plates for the car. 

Two and a half hours later, I headed home. I admit, until writing this eight hours later, I had been feeling deflated, angry and despairing most of the day. Thus the wonder of writing! I feel a lot better!

Until the next trip to the DMV…