I believe Dante left something out when describing hell in his Inferno. Somewhere in the ditches of the 8th circle of hell lies the DMV. It may be because there was no such thing as the DMV back in 1317, because, surely, he would have included it. The DMV in our little South Carolina town is notorious for being difficult. Much like Dante's Inferno there are different "circles" at our DMV. However, first you have to get past the Gatekeeper. This Gatekeeper finds out what you need and makes sure you have all the proper documentation to obtain it. If you are lacking anything she turns you away. No smiles, no fuss, no muss, you don't get in the door. You get denied and back track a walk of shame through the lobby. She holds the power, the key, and she knows it. She takes her job very seriously.
I double checked with the website to make sure all our ducks were in a row. We had everything we needed, I even grabbed her birth certificate and social security card just in case. I grabbed mine too because you never know. We got in line in the too small, overcrowded lobby. We silently marveled at the cast of characters awaiting their fate. Interestingly, in the halls of purgatory there isn't much conversation. Finally we were up, I confidently handed her our paperwork.
She studied it very carefully. I wasn't worried, I was ready, I even brought backup paperwork. I was being charming. Anna looked innocently eager to drive independently, as she gripped her bright green, sealed envelope containing the results of her drive test. We were quite the bright eyed pair. I blinked expectantly for my number to indicate which circle of hell we'd be visiting that day. The Gatekeeper, not swayed by our charm and good looks, said, "This needs to say 'secretary'." I looked at the paper. It was the paper that had the signatures of her school, her driving class instructor and me, her legal guardian.
I see that it was signed properly by everybody. The line that was supposed to be signed 'secretary' read 'administrative asst.' I thought, Are you f'ing kidding me?!? Still smiling and trying to be good, I say, "It does." I point out the line in question.
"No," She says, "it needs to say the word secretary." She used her finger as if to underline the word.
I was confused. Surely this woman knows that administrative assistant and secretary mean the same thing, right? I was getting pissed because I realized she found it, she found the reason she could turn us away. The fact that she would pick this detail on this kid, had me confused. This is a hopeful fifteen year old. She can't even drive past six o'clock! Was she really just being mean? Mean and for no good reason? My ever hopeful daughter's excitement and dreams of independence were about to get smashed. I decided to not go down without a valiant effort. Smiling I said, "It does. Administrative Assistant and Secretary mean the same thing." I use my finger in a similar manner and tried not to sound condescending.
"It needs to say that word secretary." Again with the underlining finger.
I was done. I was not going to play nice anymore. You don't get to be mean for no good reason on my watch and get away with it. The devil in me wanted to leap over her counter and teach her a thing or two about being a decent human being. Unfortunately, the only way the devil in me knows how to do that is violently. I thought, Oh, please Jesus, do not let me lose it here at the DMV in front of Anna. I, no longer smiling and in a more authoritative voice, said, "People don't really use the word secretary anymore. The point here, really, is that the right person signed this form." She leveled her eyes at me. She knew it and didn't care. This bitch was not going to let us pass.
She restated with no inflection or remorse, "It needs to say secretary."
I level right back at her and said, "That is bullshit and you know it."
"We sent a card to the schools saying it needs to say Secretary, Guidance Counselor, Vice Principal or Principal. Those words."
I take my time before answering. I want her to squirm a little, "That's bullshit, too and you know it. That is sad." I gave her my best disapproving look. She turned away. She would no longer speak to me.
My daughter was clearly disappointed. I stood and stared at the Gatekeeper for another beat, debating whether or not I wanted to be on WYFF Channel 4 news that evening. I chose, instead of violence, to be an example to my daughter (except for the profanity). I slammed my fist on the counter as we turned to begin our walk back through the lobby. The quiet souls, they knew. They all knew we would have to come back. They knew what happened to us. They pitied us.
We left the DMV to the sound of me yelling, "I hate the DMV!" The room of quiet souls, awaiting their fate, chuckled. I heard an "Amen" as we stormed out of there. I suggested we eat our disappointment in the form of sushi.
On our way to lunch, Anna, tested the waters, "That was bullshit." Yes. I agreed it was and told her to watch her mouth. At lunch we were told by our waitress that she went to the DMV in a neighboring city and they were awesome. She looked at my daughter and agreed that the DMV was, indeed, a rite of passage. She had heard about the one here. It is that bad. We decided we had nothing to lose and drove out to the neighboring town. You know what happened? She got her license. Yep. The Gatekeeper there even played to Anna's excitement when she saw the bright green, sealed envelope. She glanced at our paperwork and passed us through without a sneer. It took everything I had to not go back to the other DMV and have another word with that first Gatekeeper. Good wins again.
