Lunch Hour with the DMV
Here's how my week has gone: on Wednesday, having finally received my new Insurance cards, I spent my lunchhour waiting in line at the DMV to get my registration, and pay my $2000+ in sales tax on my as-yet-unnamed Civic. After waiting twenty minutes in line, I was told that the dealership had not yet submitted the proper paperwork to apply for a title. No title, no registration. Nice. A call to the dealer informed me that it had just been sent on Monday, and should be processed by early next week.
So that's one wasted lunchhour. Thursday, I drove all the way downtown to the Douglas County Courthouse to get the Omaha City Prosecutor to dismiss the charges of "No Proof of Insurance" against me. But when I got there, not only did I not have enough change for the meter, thus running the very real risk of a parking ticket, I forgot to remove the pocket knife from my pants and set off the alarms and by extension, the dogs, at the security checkpoint. Finally making it through, sans pocket knife (which was confiscated), I discovered the Prosecutor took an early lunch. That's super. Super duper!
I decided to try the DMV again, on the odd chance the title had come through, so this wouldn't be a total wasted trip. The paperwork had not come yet. But they did inform me that Superior Honda had forgotten to sign the Sales Tax form, so even if the title was cleared, I wouldn't have been able to register. That means another lunchhour trip next week. Fabtabular.
I left the courthouse and saw a parking cop near my vehicle. I sprinted the two blocks in quite dramatic fashion, not unlike one of the purported superheroes on the ridiculous "Who Wants To Be A Superhero?" show, and got to my car just as he was about to examine the meter. I laughed manaically, jumped in, and drove off before he could write a ticket. Squealed my tires as I accelerated away, for dramatic effect.
Still though, that's two lunchhours where I could have taken a 45 minute nap and been more productive. Hell, I could have stuck a banana up the tailpipe of my car, attempted to drive, stalled and gone nowhere, and still been more productive than driving all over town in a failed attempt to A) give the county $2300 and B) get my no insurance claim dismissed.
As one guy at the office told me, you'd think they'd be happy to take your $2300 check, and not be so hung up on paperwork technicalities. That's government for you though. Long lunchhours, more red tape than the 3M factory, and some of the friendliest people around. You bet.
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