license and registration, please?

I dug out the complaint letter I wrote to the DMV, and it's kind of a doozy. What follows is an abbreviated version -- apparently, when I get going, I'm quite the whiner.  :)

March 7, ----
Dear Ms. ----------:
As a recent registrant at the DMV, I am writing to express my disappointment at the apparent lack of standard procedures at your ---------- office. I relocated...and concordantly made an appointment on January 28th to register my out of state vehicle and transfer my driver's license...I was denied because your employee told me that my -- registration card was unacceptable, due to its not being printed on state letterhead.
I had my original registration, along with my title (which I was told was not required) mailed to me...[and] made a second appointment. At this visit, no one even asked to see my registration. I was sent outside to get my VIN and odometer verified, a process that took over thirty minutes due to your employees'...gossip over the theft of a man's car from the DMV parking lot after he had completed his driving test. Then they filed out...to move their personal cars closer to the building.
The employee serving me informed me that, in addition to my valid -- driver's license and US passport, she needed either my registered birth certificate or my social security card to process my request [whereas the website had claimed only two forms of ID, one if it were a passport]. The document in question...has never been damaged or tampered with, and matches my driver's license, student ID, checkbook, and all of my credit and bank cards, not to mention my appearance and description. I was informed that she would accept payment for my license, but that I would have to drive to ---------- during DMV hours with my passport and have my identification verified so that ---------- could send documentation to [the state capitol], who would then forward it to ---------- so that my license could be issued. After she accepted my payment, she issued me a receipt and informed me that if I didn't complete the process by --/--/--, it would become void, despite my payment. Had she told me that earlier, I would have deferred payment until license issuance, being that I still possess a valid -- license.
I was then sent to take a written test. The employee...scribbled out the reverse side of a 36-question form and told me to take only the front...but after I had it graded, I was informed that I had been given the wrong test and was sent back to complete the reverse side. When I returned to have it processed after waiting in line again, she informed me that she was going on break.
Reluctant to drive to ---------- during hours I am scheduled to work, I called the DMV hotline...told me there was no reason for me to [drive there] and that I should return to the ---------- office with a third form of identification. I had my certified birth certificate and my social security card FedExed to me from --. Today I made my third trip to the DMV, armed with all possible forms of identification, where I was placed in an hour-long queue despite my appointment and the explanation that all I needed was verification of my identification. I pleaded for expedition and was channeled through three employees, none of whom could figure out why I had been issued an interim license and filed as a fradulent applicant. They...tried to dismiss me. Finally, a woman reprocessed the entire application. As far as I know, my "fraudulent" application remains in your system.
I found the service at the DMV to be grossly incompetent and unsatisfactory. In total, I made three trips to the office, totaling 5.5 hours of time spent away from work...Despite their recognition of their colleagues' numerous mistakes in processing my standard requests, none of them offered me an apology for the waste of time their negligence caused me. A US passport is a federally-issued document, accepted internationally as identification even after its expiration, and I am aghast that it should be refused...especially when the accompanying payment was accepted without question.
 
It goes on for another paragraph in which I petulantly demand an apology and accuse the department of deserving its bad reputation before closing.  Following is the letter I received in response. The only lasting effect of my experience is that every year, I'm called for jury duty twice: once as the real me, and once as a misspelled, presumably fraudulent applicant. (Presumably, credibility is not important when it comes to jury selection.)

i'll see you in court!

after my ex-boyfriend and i had been living together for a couple of years, we moved out of the house we had shared with roommates and into a house for just the two of us.  i imagine it was something of a trial run for permanence.  we managed the household fairly well, equitably, and maturely, which should have surprised no one, but we always kept our finances separate.  at the lease signing, we brought separate credit reports, signed the lease separately, and he maintained his own office in the second bedroom, i.e., none of my stuff was in there.  we shared the master bedroom and the rest of the space.

our relationship ended without malice, and we continued cohabitating until the end of our lease (because we're big kids and we can be respectful and courteous of each other).  he moved out about a week before I did, and we scheduled a walk-through with the landlady.  because of some issues that had arisen with regard to the contract, we video-taped the walk-through.  she agreed to buy from us the refrigerator we had purchased and had installed, and stated specifically that if the house were in the same condition as it currently was when we turned it over, we'd both get our full security deposits back.  yay!  (i know some folks don't find it worthwhile to scour the oven and the blinds and the bathtub in a rental property, but i don't have the luxury of affording the deduction.)

fast-forward through the emotional process of seeing off the ex, shipping him all his crapola that he couldn't fit in his crate/didn't have time to deal with, finding my own apartment, moving out, cleaning up, and the landlady doesn't show up for the final walk-through.  bitch has three phone numbers and isn't answering any of them, even though we had already agreed upon the date.  i shot more video to document that the house was empty and spotless, and left.  she never scheduled a walk-through with me.

she refused to refund my security deposit.  she paid my ex in full, but they had always been on good terms.  my theory is that she started disliking me when i refused to pay for repairs to the sewer line, into which roots had grown.  i refused to pay for it because a) it's not my fault as a renter (there was nothing i could have done to anticipate or prevent it), and b) the lease we all signed specifically stated the tenants were not responsible for any damage to the pipes caused by tree roots.  and also?  she claims to be an attorney.

i say "claims to be an attorney" because i researched the law, and it was eminently clear to me that she had no legal claim to the deposit.  i dotted all my i's, crossed my t's, and filed a lawsuit...against my former landlady, the attorney.  there were a number of legal hoops to jump through, and i spent hours of my personal time reviewing the evidence of my case (in small claims court, you're not allowed to hire an attorney to represent you...which can be intimidating when the party you're suing IS an attorney).  i transcribed the dialogue of the entire walk-through from the video-tape...which is a very time-consuming and frustrating evening activity.  i had to take time off work for the court date, and showed up hella early at the county courthouse, in a suit (at work i'm in jeans, at home i'm in pajamas).  i stated my case in front of the judge, and tried my best not to stammer, even though i was shaking in my little space booties -- no, worse, i was shaking in my high heels, which is even more dangerous.  who sues an attorney, anyway?!

she claims to be an attorney, did i mention that?  i have never, in all my sick days of watching pathetic losers on The People's Court, witnessed someone testify so idiotically on his/her own behalf.  (by the way,  the Judge Joe Brown, Judge Mathis, and Judge Judy shows all contacted me and offered to take my case on national television.  i still have the letters!  but i decided that i didn't want my fifteen minutes of fame to typecast me as white trash, so i declined.)  she tried to countersue me for damage to the office carpet, which a) i had never inhabited, and b) was exposed durign the walk-through on camera.  she also claimed not to know that my ex and i were co-tenants, even though we gave her separate credit reports, separate leases, and paid every month with two separate checks.

i was pretty sure i had it in the bag (the decision was to be mailed, not announced in court).  i was so elated by my non-attorney spokesperson success in suing an attorney, i drove to the house we used to rent and knocked on the door.  i told the current occupant that i'd just gotten out of court with her landlady, and that she'd do well to document her experience as a renter: some of my best evidence was emails we had exchanged.  according to the new resident, the landlady claimed she'd never rented the house before.  hmm...that's what she claimed when she rented it to us!  i left her my contact information and told her i'd be happy to provide any help within my power.

i won the case.  i was awarded my security deposit, minus $20 for a craptastic mirror she left in the house that we thew away.  she also got away with stealing the refrigerator.  but i sued an attorney and i won!  y'all better not cross me, bitches.  i am a force with which to be reckoned.  and although i had been warned that oftentimes defendants never pay up on what they owe, i received a cashier's check in the mail and didn't even have to write a letter to the California bar advising them of the antics of their wayward sheep.  i could model it after the enraged tome i penned to the CA DMV.  i should publish that one...and the response i received to it.

safety net

*written after a friend's boyfriend dumped her instead of moving into her house*

The general consensus is that it takes courage to leave the place/people to which/whom one has made connections.  It's viewed as abnormal to isolate oneself from society.  Even the shyest people usually keep a few close friends.

I once read an evolutionary biology theory that postulated conversation is oral grooming.  People use conversation to forge and strengthen bonds amongst us.  Acquaintances are those we call for fun or for utility.  Friends are those we call on in times of need.  Boyfriends, girlfriends, husbands, and wives are those who are close enough to be held responsible, in some degree, for our happiness and security.  They're the ones who listen to us recount our days -- good and bad -- and suffer the consequences if we have bad credit or make poor decisions.  They're the ones who put their tongues to our genitals because we like it.  If we die first, they carve their names next to ours on our tombstones, and wait for those who follow after to add the final date.

So it's particularly hurtful when one's "significant other" separates.  These are the people who know us best -- who know that we actually shit -- and still loved us for it.  That's perhaps the most affirming aspect of love: knowing about the shit and loving anyway.  It's the closest thing to unconditional love (without getting all theistic about it).  And when it dissolves, the primary support is gone.  And when it dissolves at an inopportune time, such as a) after one has relocated across the country and hasn't made new friends, or b) when one is already experiencing self-doubt and doesn't give much credit to the remainder of her support network or her intrinsic ability to seek out and live up to her alleged potential, the results can be...devastating.

Panic.  Grasp at whatever is the most immediately apparent, even if it's not as sturdy as one might like.  Just don't use it as a crutch forever.

first world problems

I purchased my car used -- second-hand, pre-owned, whatever the current jargon is.  I feel very fortunate to be able to afford a car outright.  However, I didn't get input into some of the options I'd have had as a new car buyer: I didn't choose the paint color, the stereo (I removed the tape deck!), or the interior, which is black leather.  I guess it's moderately fancy to have a leather interior, as I mostly see it on luxury cars or the suped-up versions of commutermobiles, but (aside from any objections about the practice of hiding animals for upholstery purposes) I really don't see the benefit.  Parked in the sun, with the windows up, the interior temperature of a car can exceed 125°F within 20 minutes.  You guys, I have a great idea!  Let's cover all that interior surface with black cowhide!  That way, whoever climbs inside will be cooked en papillote.  Americans are too soft, anyway, with all of our sitting at office jobs and driving back and forth all the time.  We must toughen up our lazy butts...and the backs of our thighs, lower backs, palms, and anything else that should accidentally brush against that superheated cowhide.

Given, one remedy for this problem are the A/C controls (because what better way to solve a first-world problem than with a first-world solution!).  My commute is three miles long, which means that I'd have to turn on the engine and run the A/C for about as long as my entire commute before the seats cooled enough for my American ass to perch upon comfortably.  It hardly seems worth the time or fossil fuels.  Instead, I endeavor to park in the shade, leave open the sunroof (glad he sprang for that option!) and crack the windows...which, for some reason, always makes me paranoid that some malevolent pedestrian will toss a smoldering cigarette butt inside my car.  (This has never happened to me and I don't know why I obsess over the remote possibility that it will.)  Inevitably, though, that leather is searingly hot by the time I return, and I go back to wondering why one would opt for a black leather interior.  I should probably pick up some leather treatment goop at Kragen on my way home, too, because all that heat and sun is starting to crack the leather.