mrmuller

I hate the Secretary of State, but apparently I have to continually deal with them for the rest of time. Recently, I received a letter from them stating that I MUST go to a branch office to renew my license, before my 21st birthday. Of course I knew the reason I couldn't mail it in had something to do with me turning 21 and getting a new horizontal license instead of the vertical one. None the less, I wasn't in the least thrilled about having to sit at SoS for any copious amount of time. So I settled on a day where my class got out at 11:30am, and set off to suffer indeterminable measures of pain at the hands of SoS's caveman chairs, hoping that I wouldn't have to spend too much time there being that it was so early in the day. Unaware was I that this day I had selected was also "coincidentally" the same day that the entire computer system of SoS Michigan decided to go down. But it turns out that one computer in the entire state still worked, and I'll be damned if it wasn't the first one in the line at my local branch office. The lady at the head of the line handed me a number of warned me that it will be a long wait because of the computers, so I took my number and snidely though, "What else is new?" I selected a seat next to two old black gentlemen, who were pretty awsome. One of them was eighty, eighty for fuck's sake, but he didn't look a day over 60. I was afraid I might see the end of his life before I got out of there. Long story short, I don't actually know how long I waited because they don't keep clocks in those places. They don't want you to know that time actually stands still once you enter the office. I didn't really look at my cell phone either because I didn't want to get discouraged. So after watching the numbers tick off the little ticket-counter on the wall, and seeing the forty some odd people ahead of me eagerly wander up to the counter, I began to wonder if I should ever get out. I don't know if you can imagine the situation, but let me tell you, SoS is usually fairly boring, yet bearable; but on this day, it turned into a place of great torment, where even despair died. It ended with them telling me that I should have come a week earlier, because they won't be able to get me my new license by my birthday. So they took a horrible picture of my ugly mug, punched a hole in my current license, and shuffled me out the door.