Baby you can drive my car … Beep beep’m beep beep yeah

In the continuing saga of her, so far, failed attempts to obtain a Kentucky driver’s license, we now find the hapless yet hopeful Hollee standing at the counter of the local department of motor vehicles (DMV) with the required certified copy of her birth certificate from California that took what seemed to be two decades to obtain (because they spelled her mother’s name wrong on the hospital’s birth record), and her marriage license to Jeff Jones.
The kind and overworked woman across the counter looks up at Hollee, who, lo and whoop-dee-doo, was the first person in line (hope abounds!), receives said documentation of Hollee’s existence, and then says to her, “Do you have your new Social Security card with your married name on it?”
To which Hollee, with shoulders drooping, replies that the previous kind and overworked DMV personnel did not tell her three months ago that she needed to do that first.
“Well, you do. Here is the address.”
Trying not to tear up, Hollee bemoans her fate. “But I waited three months just to get a copy of my birth certificate from the Land of Misfit Toys. It arrived in the mail yesterday, and now I find, to my dismay, that I must now drive to the other side of town and stand in a sweaty line, in order to get yet another form of documentation that indeed I do exist and have not crossed these hallowed borders illegally toting ill-gotten booty?”
“You betcha. Then you gotta wait 24 hours to come back here again so we can make sure you’re in the system.”
“I’ve been in the system for 54 years.”
“Not in Kentucky’s system! You’re a Californian. Is your California operator’s license still good?”
“Alas, I was only born there. I moved here from Ohio, about 85 miles north of here, but y’all (notice the use of the vernacular in the fair Hollee’s attempt to soften the hard heart of the DMV employee) won’t accept that license as proof of my fidelity to these here United States and my ability to drive a car.”
“Nope.”
The dejected Hollee crawls back to her car, for which she has an Ohio license to drive, calls her husband, and tells him she is going to mail in her name change request to Social Security.
The she gets a wild hair (you finish that sentence) and decides to go ahead and drive across town to the Social Security Administration Offices and give it a whirl.
She is told to take a number after registering on a computer screen. She is #194.They are now serving #174. She sits and waits for an hour in a room full of overdressed (it’s 54 degrees outside and 9 million degrees inside) and stressed, sweaty people with desperation plainly showing in their eyes.
They are now on serving #180.
Hollee rises gracefully from her seat (not really, but isn’t it pretty to think so?), hands her ticket to the Social Security security guard (yes, spell check tried to delete the double word), and says, “I give up.”
As she was leaving, an elderly couple was entering. But she heard them exclaim ‘ere she drove out of sight:  “Lord have mercy! We’ll be here all night!”


Drive My Car

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Published in: on January 8, 2013 at 3:46 pm  Leave a Comment  
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