Everyone loves the DMV!

My wife had to get her license renewed. You know, that piece of plastic that says you know how to drive the car you have to pay taxes on every year and proves that you are who you say you are....

Okay, its a pain in the ass, we all know it, we all put up with it. Just shut the fuck up and get it over with.

Well, to make a short story longer, we chose to go on a Thursday morning, as she took the day off work to take me to my disability hearing later today, and there was only one person ahead of us, and she was just finishing up! 

So we fill out the paperwork, stating that she is who she is and lives where she lives, gets her picture taken, fingerprinted by that little red lighty-thingee, signs her name on that computer screen signing thingee, and we wait for her brand new, same information, same everything else card we get to pay for to "update' all this same information, and nothing happens.

No problem. I've been sitting being a good boy. Hell, I was gentlemanly enough to be making small talk with the female staff. They even laughed at my toilet humor!

So the manager comes over, and says to change the laminate in the machine, as the last time they had this problem, that seemed to solve it.

The roll of funny colored, alternate black, blue, green, and yellow, sectioned laminate goes in, and we repeat the process of picture, fingerprint, sign, wait.

And wait

And wait.

So manager comes back, and says something to the effect, well, I can't help, so I might as well stay out of the way. Update: What he said was "I don't like to hover. So I guess I'll leave them alone.")

Meanwhile, the girls in the office are getting all apologetic, and one of them is on the phone with the computer IT guy trying to resolve the issue. Both of the female staffers were feeling embarrassed and bad because they couldn't just fix the problem, and although I was starting to get that "Someone Must Die" feeling I get when I start to run out of  patience, I was still maintaining my composure, knowing it wasn't their fault, and they were doing their best. I been there, I done that...

So finally the manager comes back over and opens the printer again to look inside. Then he discovers the new laminate film was placed in backwards. So in a loud enough voice I could VERY plainly overhear, calls out the lady staff who had changed it moments ago.

Now, I could have gone all apeshit crazy at this point. I could have started screaming about what a lamebrained idiot wasted my VERY valuable time, and inconvenienced me. Did I? Hell, no!

The look on this poor girl's face when that slimy, incosiderate, holier-than-thou rat bastard threw the blame on her in front of me and everyone there, (by now there were three other customers waiting, plus the rest of the staff in the background) made me feel so sorry for her, after being so apologetic and trying to get things right, that I just felt bad for her.

She was a nice woman, who didn't deserve to be called out. The manager could have said: "Let me try putting this in again, and see if that helps." Then after another reasonably satisfied DMV customer left, let her quietly know what the problem was. And he could have looked the HERO rather than some slime sucking parasite on society.

I'm sure she would have taken the lesson to heart without being made embarassed and shaming her. And a PROPER working environment could have been maintained.

Instead, this fucking mouth breather makes it a point to embarass his employee and throw her under a VERY fast moving bus.

I told my wife: In this day of instant information, you should be careful how you act in public, as you never know who might be a blogger.

She told me to let it go.

So I will not say the last name of the Fuson Tag Agency's manager, in Norman, OK. Just that his first name was Craig. His last name was coincidentally, I'm sure, the same as the name of the agency.

Now lets see if this twatwaffle can learn some manners, or if he comes down on this poor girl, who did nothing but take his shit, and apologized to me again.  If he DOES have something to say, he can say it to me. (My information is the same as my wife's, except my first name is Steve). He can get it from her file....

Deal with it, asshole.