Ok, site is coming along…slowly I know…but things are finally aligned in the bigger picture sense and now I attack the small things and make tweaks.
NONE of which would be possible without Dame Cyberdelia. She is my htl sounding board and all around WP guru as I try to position myself into this insane coding nightmare.
Now…the NYC DMV…can SUCK IT!!
My first encounter with them was no pleasant as I traversed their refugee infested hallways about three weeks ago. I stood in a very long line waiting to be helped by only ONE employee in a section with FOUR stations. People were losing their minds. 2 hours later I was 8th in line to be helped and had to leave for an appointment. I was NOT pleased.
The idea of going back has been like an incurable rash on my genitals. But go back I did. Today, the line was even longer.
And still ONE employee.
But hosanna! One more showed up 15 minutes later and the line started moving. Not fast, but compared to what it was before….fast.
I get to the front about an hour and a half later….hand over my documents…and get told that I am missing something and have to come back.
I am not living in my own satirized sitcom scenario where I am in DMV hell and the disinterested bitch behind the counter is Satan. I try pleading my case with the documents at hand which include a court signed and notarized application for a name change.
Beelzey was not having it.
So I left…angry. I am going to attempt to back tomorrow…as laughable as that idea is. I make no promised about my inability to keep my mouth shut.
Should anyone from the DMV happen to ever come across this post, I hand you this idea free of charge:
1) I pay your wages with my taxes…how about you actually use it and hire more people to staff those stations. People DO have lives unlike the trogs working behind the little cameras that are forever breaking down.
2) Make sure you express CLEARLY what it is you need so the NYC denizens don’t have to open a can of whoops ass on you.
3) Is it too much to ask for some kind of air freshener in that place?
The highlight of my 1 1/2 Dantean hours was being harrassed by an Indian man forever talking loudly on his cell in hindi and breathing out the foulest ordor that managed to waft its way to my nose all the time. He smelled of mothballs to boot and insistend on shuffling up closer to me no matter how little space the line traversed. If I was bumped or rubbed up on one more time I swear I would have decked him.
I think he got me pregnant at some point, but can’t be entirely sure.
New York City….