Val is good for another six years with her driver's license! That's a relief. I wonder if that license office will even exist by then. It sits between two gaping holes down into a lead mine started in 1864, also termed "the world's largest man-made cavern." Poor Pony delivers their mail every day.
I have promised The Pony to NOT drive on that street anymore, on my way to the dead-mouse-smelling post office. Hope he doesn't know something I don't know! Half the entrance to the parking lot of the DMV was blocked off with orange cones and yellow tape around a rectangular metal plate about six feet square. That's the smaller of the two holes.
Lucky for me, a car was just leaving the space next to the single handicap space, so I parked right by the sidewalk leading to the door. No steps to navigate, but that sidewalk was canted sideways, so my gait was like a drunken, ample-rumpused, lame sailor. Not lucky for me was a competitor, an old man who pulled in as I was gathering up my purse and renewal card, and spryly beat me to the door.
I've been going to this office for many years. Inside the door is a window where a lady sits behind a counter. It has no special markings. It seems to be a greeting/receptionist kind of window, so I always stop there. That lady does regular licensing duties. There's a chair. She has given me new license plates before, and renewed old ones. The old man was standing there in front of her. So I waited.
That's the thing. You never know if you're supposed to wait there. On the wall beside her is a red number-dispenser, and a sign saying to take a number. So I did, but still stood there by the door, waiting to see if I needed to talk to that lady.
The waiting room is to the right, at about a 45-degree angle. This is a weird octagon/hexagon shaped building. Nothing was keeping me out of the waiting room. There were five upholstered chairs with wooden arms, and several plastic chairs along the wall of windows facing out to T-Hoe's parking area. All were empty. A young gal was standing at the long counter which has three bank-teller kind of slots for service. I could only see the customer, due to the angle, and not the counter itself or any workers behind.
My number was 47. Several crumpled numbers littered the floor. These were the tear-off tabs. Last time they had square laminated numbers hanging on a hook. I saw number 43 lying on a table at the waiting room entrance. It looked like we were the only three customers. It was 2:40. Young Gal was quite chatty. Her business was complete. The worker was telling her that Fridays are the busiest time, since that's the day of the county driver's license testing, and kids come to get their license if they pass.
Anyhoo... I didn't want to sit down, because it's hard to get up. AND, I wasn't quite sure if I needed to see that window lady to be referred to a specific person. I know where they take the photos at the end of the waiting area, but there's usually not a person assigned to just that task.
After about five minutes, the Old Man sat down. It appeared that he was getting some kind of license plate. I heard a voice from the counter area say, "I can help you down here." Perhaps somebody had just returned from her break, and saw me on the surveillance camera.
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment