|This is not my actual DMV, I found the picture here.|
Because I THRIVE under pressure.
I was at the DMV for a really simple thing actually. I needed a one page, five dollar, printout of my driving record so I could drive on a school field trip. Technically this paper can be printed off at HOME from the WEBSITE but the school doesn't allow that because, "somebody could fake it." You know. Because parents who cook meth are always really eager to drive on field trips and are willing to actually change a government document in order to have the privilege of EXTRA screaming kids in their car.
Honestly, I was considering a few different ways to get out of the DMV quickly. "I know, " my wicked little brain thought, "maybe if I let the children get all snot-nosed and run wild like banshees I will get moved to the front of the line." (I didn't really think that. I am being sarcastic.)
But for the sake of argument, this did actually happen. And they got to eat and spit out raisins onto the government run floor.
Eventually I decided to stop letting my children lick the communal water fountain and stick their fingers in the swinging trash lid. So we picked a seat. I choose one right in front of a DMV employee desk and also right in front of where all the teenagers lined up to get their picture's taken and do their driving test. (I figure parents of teenagers everywhere will thank me for allowing their children to watch my children run free and regurgitate food. The teen birth rates will probably be at all time lows in Nor Cal in about 9 months. Nothing encourages abstinence like a snot nosed, screaming baby. YOU. ARE. WELCOME.)
Sadly, I DID NOT get put in the front of the line. Government bureaucracy is so much stronger than me. Depressing really.
Anyway. I sat down among the other people at the DMV. (Why do so many of them look like vagrants or people who cook meth in their basement? Strange.) I notice the guy behind me chatting about his mother.
Wait. Unless his mother's last name started with a FU and ended with an ER, he was NOT talking about his mother. I actually listened to this lovely human being chat about the "F" word and masturbation for about five full minutes. He really did have a set of lungs on him. I got the sneaking suspicion he wanted the people who worked at the DMV to hear what he was saying about them.
And then, because I am as annoying and opinionated in PERSON as I am online, I stood up. I turned around. And I said loudly,
"You should really watch your language around the children."
And then I stormed off to the other side of the room with my children in tow.
Seriously, what a pig.
But a small miracle occurred at the DMV today. Well, two actually. Despite how much I kind of HATE the DMV, my three year old spent the entire time laughing her head off. Because dude, life is just AWESOME when you are a kid and somebody tickles you. (I ticked her, not the creepy guy with the dirty mouth.)
And the second miracle. I got my number called just in time to pick up my other daughter from school. Somebody was watching over me, even at the DMV.