The Independence DMV. They are bastards. Or at the very least, the fat bitch that was my interface with the agency today was.

Warning, my language in this post is "colorful".

My license expired. A few month ago, actually, but since it only happens every four years it's the sort of thing that can slip by. I've known about it for a couple weeks now, but I also knew that I was moving shortly, so I decided to wait until after the move to get it renewed, lest I end up paying the fee for a new license twice. Just this past weekend I got the change-of-address form from the post office and had it filled out and in my car the night that I got pulled over. The cop ignored the fact that I was speeding, and that's a good thing since doing 35 in a 25 is hardly speeding at all - more like briskly traveling. But he did cite me for the license and explained that it was certainly under his jurisdiction to arrest me for driving with an expired license. This was Saturday night. I made it a priority to get my license and everything in order soon.

Today was the day that I had arranged to take care of things. Now, I've had dealings with the hellspawn at the DMV before and it wasn't pleasant. It's almost as though they revel in technicalities and inconveniences, so I went in there prepared - or so I thought.

I made a crucial error in dealing with them. I admitted that I had moved this weekend. I had placed the change-of-address form in the mailbox last night, so it has not been processed yet, so technically, I haven't moved. But that didn't matter.

The first time I went in was vicious. The fat bitch would not budge, would not back down on her belief that, "oh, his address changed and he doesn’t have new mail, I don’t' have to help him". I told her that I hadn't moved since the forms haven't been processed yet, to which she replied, "But you have moved, you've already told me that." I told her that I lied and hadn't moved; she wouldn't accept that. I told her I was the Governor of Kentucky too, but apparently she was picky about which words I said she would and wouldn't believe. She recommended that I go to the post office and mail myself a letter, or get a form stating that I'd changed addresses. I left in a rage.

The post office employee, God bless her, was very helpful. She looked to see if my mail hadn't gone out yet. She tried to see if there were forms she could find. She did everything for me, and commiserated that the DMV often sends people to her in a situation similar to this. Good. That means I wasn't being singled out and that the lady at the DMV truly was a bitch. There was no record so far of my change of address, soe settled on breaking the $20 bill that I'd withdrawn earlier to buy an evelope and stamp and mail myself a letter which could then be used (after it was mailed) as proof of residence. Unfortunately we found out that the DMV wouldn't accept documentation from the local Independence Post Office or mail that I'd sent FROM THERE to my own house unless the mail had been routed through Cincinnati - that means that the letter that I'd paid for probably wouldn't arrive until Friday - and the DMV would be closed because of Christmas. I wrote "DMV SUCKS EGGS" on the envelope just out of spite, and we all had a good chuckle. (When was that curse even current, 1984?)

So back to the DMV I go, empty handed to plead my case again. Since the Post Office had no record of my change-of-address (no surprise, it was just dropped in a mailbox last night!) I thought that the situation had changed. Nope, Captain FatAss Bureaucrat wasn't budgin' from her high throne. She needed current mail with my new address. I showed her the citation for the expired license which had my address on it and she refused to accept it.

So I went back to my old house to get the old mail from the mailbox and a few more things from the house. I still had a doctor's appointment but not for another hour, so I tried once more to the DMV with a piece of mail from the mailbox. (This is trip number 3.) On my way in there was a couple heading out that were complaining about all the hoops and hurdles they were having to go through. I asked if they were dealing with the DMV and they replied in the affirmative. Brothers in arms. I went in and there was a new person there. I didn't even acknowledge the fat one and I explained: "My license has expired, I have to have it renewed, I have current mail." Unfortunately, the piece of mail I had from Sprint was bulk mailed and didn't have a date on it.

"Do you have any other mail post-dated in the past 30 days?"

PAST 30 DAYS?!? I grinned at the fat bitch at the other counter with a triumphant gleam in my eye. OH HO HO, BITCH, YOU SAID NOTHING ABOUT THE PAST THIRTY DAYS! "Yes," I replied quickly, "I have mail from the past 30 days in my car, I'll be right back."

I returned a few minutes later (I'm counting this as trip number 4) with two pieces of mail, one from the 8th and one from the 15th. Apparently in the time it took me to get to the car the fat bitch had debriefed the new lady, and the new one explained, "Now, you know that if you've just moved this past weekend then you can't use it against your citation because it will have the old address, and you'll need to get it updated again."

"I don't care. It is ILLEGAL for me to drive away from here right now. The citation isn't for having an OUT OF DATE license, it's for an EXPIRED license, it doesn't care WHAT my address is, and as soon as my address change is official, I'll get a new license". We began the transaction, finally. During the transaction, fat bitch decided that she had more to say to me, but started with, "Can I just say one thing?"

"No, I'm not talking to you."

Didn't stop her. She began yammering to the back of my head anyway, something about me blaming her for my license expiring. I don't really know, because whatever bullshit was pouring out of her mouth was drowned out by the new lady telling me that the charge for a new license is twenty dollars.

I'd had twenty dollars an hour ago. I broke that twenty for the fifty-one cent envelope and stamp and threw away the pennies, so I was now short by fifty-five cents. I laughed, a lot. I probably looked delirious, but seriously now, after all this fight to be thwarted by fifty-five fucking cents. Luckily the people who were just outside griping about the awful DMV came to my rescue and gave me two quarters and a nickel. My driver’s license picture is odd: I am smiling, beaming as a matter of fact, but my eyes are very angry. It was a hard fought victory against bureaucracy and bullshit. I mean, following the letter of the law and following the spirit of the law are two completely different things, and trying to fuck people over two days before Christmas, especially when it was illegal for them to drive away? C'mon now.

The best part of all of this is that sometime in the next week (or two) I have to go back to get my new license. I want to find a necklace or shirt with a collar that reads: DMV SUCKS EGGS. Or something, I don't know. Frankly, I'll be satisfied if Google regards this post in the first four or five when searching for "DMV Independence, KY".