Wednesday, July 4, 2012


So Monday, my guy and I decided to do our property tax return, change our voter registration, and change the address on our drivers' licenses and be done with it all. Silly us!

We drove into town to the tax office first but found we couldn't claim homestead without having the correct address on our drivers' licenses. So we drove, oh, I don't know exactly how far, maybe ten or twelve miles out of town??? to the new building housing the Department of Driver Services. Only a couple of cars were in the parking lot, so we congratulated ourselves, got out and found...

Yep, the DDS is closed on Sundays. AND Mondays.

Okay. Tomorrow was another day. Tuesday, to be exact. But since Monday was the last day to register to vote in the primary, we decided to go to the Board of Elections and see if we could change our registration. They had us on the state list already so we filled out forms to transfer precincts and got that done.

Tuesday, we went back to the DDS first thing and parked among a bunch of cars. Inside, the lobby was crowded. Very crowded. This was the first day of the new rules regarding getting/changing drivers' licenses so the clerks were extra busy. And no one to tell us what to do. All the while those computer generated voices intoned, "Now serving number so-and-so at counter one," - or two or four or whichever. After awhile, I asked someone how to get a number. He motioned toward the front about the time one of the clerks beckoned us. We went up, she looked at what we had (I'd read we had to have birth certificates and thought I was prepared), but guess what. We didn't have what we needed. We not only needed birth certificates, but we also needed social security cards and two utility bills or bank statements to verify we lived where we said we lived.

Okay. Back home, print out some bills (since we get them online now) with the correct address on them, eat lunch and go back out to the DDS. Lobby was still crowded. But now we knew how to get a number! And once we did, we sat down to wait. An hour or so later, my number got called. Almost immediately my guy's number was called, too. I went to the counter, showed my stuff, and the clerk looked at it. She pointed out my name was not on the bills. I showed her a direct deposit receipt mailed to the new address and a card received in the mail forwarded from the old address. Wouldn't do. She told me to bring back bank statements and a utility bill with my name. I said the bills were in my guy's name. She shook her head.

Meanwhile, my guy's clerk had popped over to get the bills - with his name on them - and finish up his paperwork to give him him a temporary license with his new picture on it. He was ready to go. I dragged myself away from the counter, whining piteously.

His clerk asked what I needed and I told her. She said to call the bank and have them fax a bank statement with the new address on it to them. But the bill problem remained. My guy had mentioned we'd registered to vote the day before so she said we could have them fax a form with our new address on it and that would be acceptable according to the new regulations.

So my banker remembered me, bless him, and faxed the statement. The voting office remembered us, too, and faxed the form. And we got out about four o'clock, just in time to rush downtown and file our property return and change our tag addresses.

We were tired but happy. I'm pretty sure the clerks were happy, too, knowing they wouldn't have to see us again. Here's a picture of the lobby and another of the clerks trying to figure out what to do.

Did I say I'm glad I don't have to work at the DDS? Almost as thankful I no longer sell tags!


  1. One of those murphy's law days where anything that can go wrong... does go wrong, huh?

    1. Not only for us. Sunday's newspaper had a front page article about the new rules and regulations. Evidently some of the larger places had waits up to six and seven hours.

      And I'll bet that's when they were told they didn't have what they needed! Heh heh!


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