Now serÂving G 294, said the nice roÂbot lady. I was G 208. Had I fallÂen asleep and slept through 86 numÂbers? No. Was I sure I was G 208? YES. For the past 15 minÂutes I had aÂbanÂdoned my old iÂdenÂtiÂty and fullÂy emÂbraced G 208, desÂperÂate for my new name to be called.
Yes, it was anÂothÂer exÂcitÂing afÂterÂnoon at the poÂetÂiÂcalÂly named Hennepin County Service Center ("Where 'servÂice' is alÂmost our midÂdle name"). ObÂjecÂtive: that quadÂrenÂniÂal reÂmindÂer of how much hair you've lost or wrinÂkles you've gained. The drivÂer's liÂcense.
You can do evÂerÂyÂthing onÂline but this. But that's good! Here's why it's aweÂsome:
1. It's one of the few shared exÂperiÂencÂes where you can sit in a room with peoÂple of all shapes, sizes, ethÂnic oriÂgins, creeds, and be utÂterÂly bored toÂgether. Well, that and an Adam SandÂler movÂie. You are unitÂed in purÂpose — to just get out of here with a magÂic piece of paÂper — and ocÂcaÂsionÂalÂly you are unitÂed by someÂthing that reÂminds you all of your comÂmon huÂmanÂiÂty.
SpeÂcifÂiÂcalÂly, how much you don't like it. There were the two kids in the play area, one of whom is screamÂing like she's halfÂway swalÂlowed by an anÂaÂconÂda, and anÂothÂer who's slamÂming the steerÂing wheel in the play-pit from side to side yellÂing, "CHOO CHOO CHOO CHOO."
EvÂerÂyÂone looks around to see who's the mom. Who's payÂing no atÂtenÂtion at all? That's her.
2. You are reÂmindÂed how good we have it. NumÂber G 294 was folÂlowed by G 295 in just a few minÂutes.
Think about that. SomeÂone had a probÂlem. The clerk solved it. The perÂson left. NEXT! That's the way it's supÂposed to be, right?
Well. When I lived in Washington, D.C., a trip to the DMV was reÂgardÂed like an AntÂarcÂtic trek in your unÂderÂwear with half a Slim Jim for supÂplies. The staff actÂed as if eye conÂtact would turn one of you to stone and it dang sure wasn't going to be her, and if it was you there'd be paÂperÂwork.
A clerk would look at your paÂper, frown, disÂapÂpear to the backroom for howÂever long it took to find the right form or watch a segÂment of JerÂry Springer; when she came back, you would get a stamp on your form inÂdiÂcating you had had your form stamped by the Department of Form StampÂing, which perÂmitÂted you to adÂvance to the Department of Form Stamp InÂspecÂtion, and so on.
When you got to the last step, the picÂture-takÂing, you exÂpectÂed one of those carÂiÂcaÂture arÂtists who gives evÂerÂyÂone big heads and buck teeth, beÂcause it was doubtÂful that newÂfanÂgled daÂguerreÂoÂtype had reached them yet. But no: they used some sort of PoÂlarÂoid camÂerÂa the size of a steamÂer trunk, and work rules said the picÂtures had to be waved 40 times, and the OfÂfiÂcial Waver had a wrist-brace from reÂpetiÂtive moÂtion inÂjuÂry and could only wave it once beÂtween two-minÂute breaks.
I got my passÂport stamped to get into RusÂsia fastÂer. PeoÂple adÂvance to the 33rd deÂgree of Freemasonry quickÂer. EvÂerÂyÂone's picÂture looks like your ID is from a refÂuÂgee camp tyÂphus ward. The DMV was supÂposÂedÂly comÂputÂerÂized, but an exÂposé later reÂvealed the mainÂframe to be just a typeÂwriter, a TV set and an abÂaÂcus in a cardÂboard box.
My exÂperiÂence at Hennepin County Service Centers over the years has nevÂer been anyÂthing but brisk, courÂteÂous and efÂfiÂcient. No jokes; no chitchat, beÂcause that slows things down. STAMP STAMP RIP OK, over here for the eye test.
Can you read the top line? It reÂalÂly should be S T O P, when you think about it, but it's someÂthing like FKDX. On which sides are the lights flashÂing? Trick quesÂtion! Both sides. I pass, which means that if I'm ever drivÂing toward a guy holdÂing an orange sign that says FKDX and two amÂbuÂlanÂces are flankÂing me at high speed, I'll know what to do.
There should be anÂothÂer part of the liÂcense test, in which you're asked to text someÂone, and your liÂcense is imÂmediÂateÂly reÂvoked and a bouncÂer esÂcorts you by the colÂlar to the nearÂest bus stop, and does that hand-dustÂing moÂtion with his hands afÂter he drops you.
Next: picÂture time. I alÂways want to make an exÂpresÂsion that inÂdiÂcates nervÂous tenÂsion and eaÂgerÂness to please, beÂcause that's what the ofÂfiÂcer is going to see when he asks for my liÂcense, and he'd think oh, he alÂways looks like this. Flash! The picÂture shows up on the monÂiÂtor and you reÂalÂize the camÂerÂa has three setÂtings: Harsh, UnÂsparÂing and CruÂel.
You take it aÂgain on the Harsh setÂting. Doesn't matÂter. You still look like the shot beÂtween the "beÂfore" and "afÂter" in a Faces of Meth PSA.
And that's it! Out in four minÂutes. InÂcredÂiÂbly efÂfiÂcient. It makes you want to scream. Stop conÂfoundÂing my clichéd asÂsumpÂtions about unÂreÂsponÂsive public serÂvants! What am I supÂposed to comÂplain about?
This, perÂhaps: There has to be an easiÂer way to get your liÂcense. SomeÂthing you could do at a kiÂosk at the mall, or TarÂget. Heck, TarÂget could sponÂsor it, and if you signed up for the credÂit card you'd get 5 percent off all your fuÂture trafÂfic tickÂets.
The kiÂosk could take your picÂture. You could enÂter your inÂforÂmaÂtion on the screen with your finÂger, inÂstead of that conÂfusÂing "pen" thing you have to use to acÂtuÂalÂly write letÂters on a form. Your sigÂnaÂture would look a bit slopÂpiÂer,because you were using your finÂger, but I don't think anyÂone ever checks that.
Hope not, anyÂway. I signed mine at the Service Center as G 208.
jlileks@startribune.com • 612-673-7858