The Anti-Bucket List

I keep a list of items or situations I attempt to avoid at any cost; 

A trip to the dentist, 

Consuming black-eyed peas, 

Weddings (theirs or mine)

and Black-Friday shopping. 

My Anti-Bucket List was not formed without great thought and experience. Each item must meet certain criteria; secret-known only to me-criteria. It suffices to say to be included on this short list the item or situation must be so foreboding that great angst overcomes me at the thought of participation. My list was years in making. So it is with great pleasure that I proclaim an addition to this list-

The Department of Motor Vehicles, Driver License Division.

I had delayed the trip to the D.M.V. to get my daughter’s Learners Permit for as long as I could. This week everything needed to make the trip fell neatly into place. I had taken a few well deserved and long overdue days off from work.  Sara (my daughter) had early release from school due to the end of semester testing. And conveniently the weather pretty much sucked, prohibiting any other attractive activity. So we headed off to the D.M.V., one excited the other not so much.

When we drove up to the offices a small bit of excitement did manage to surface. There was not a long line of people extending outside the double glass doors of the building as customary. My heart jumped with excitement, maybe this wouldn’t take too long after all. A parking space within just a few yards of the building added to my enthusiasm.

But my excitement melted away like ice cream in a microwave when I opened the glass door. (Ask my youngest son about ice cream and microwaves).  Inside the foyer, a room about 8’ by 10’, huddled together out of the brisk cold wind of January, were about a dozen people. On the right wall was a single glass door, the portal to the D.M.V. office. Through the glass I spied twice as many people, standing, waiting.  Behind the counter where business is transacted stood but one under paid, overworked clerk. The entry foyer was so small that the line twisted back and forth like a winding road. The end of the line was indeterminable without inquiry. Over the next forty-five minutes a dozen more people would enter, each inquiring as to the end of the line. My momentary hopes of a short visit crashed like an under aged driver.

About every ten minutes the single glass door would open, allowing just one from the huddled masses to cross the threshold. We would take one step forward, anticipating our time at the coveted inner door.

I have been a people watcher for years, imagining what their lives are like, what their conversations were. Due to the small room, I didn’t have to use my imagination to know what the conversations were. There was the little old lady who shared with everyone that she was from La Vernia and how long of a drive it was into town. She let us know this was her second attempt today. I think it was a ploy to move up in the line. I was ready to tackle her if she tried.

Then there was the lady that constantly complained that this D.M.V. office doesn’t use the “Take- a -Number” system. She mentioned this flaw at least ten times. I exercised great restraint, I so wanted to point out to her that having a thumb-shaped ticket with a number printed on it would in no way speed up the process. Her newly acquired friend to whom she constantly complained, let everyone know that the D.M.V. in Universal City did use the take-a-number system and they have chairs to sit in! It was with further restraint that I avoided suggesting that she drive to Universal City, reducing the current wait time by at least one.

At last we finally reached the single glass door. We were next to gain entrance to the second room and begin the second long wait! I looked through the glass and saw that now there were two under-paid clerks behind the counter. Hopes of nearing the end began to surface.

The line in the second room was longer than anticipated. My deductive reasoning that someone had to be leaving in order for us to gain entrance was in error. The person that was at the beginning of the first line upon our arrival was still towards the back end of this new line. How could this be? Did the D.M.V. have black holes where they hid people, only to appear when you believed that you were closer to the goal? The annoying conversations about wait time were not as rampant in this new room. Signs were posted everywhere requesting “Quiet”, reminding the reader that others were testing. Other signs requested that cell phones be turned off. These signs were summarily ignored by everyone.

I looked around the room and saw that most people were looking at the screens of their smart phones. Some appeared to be reading while others played games. One young girl, about twenty years old, was texting on her phone. Her thumbs moved at a lightning speed reserved for her generation. I spied another lady, probably about forty years old. She too was texting but in the style of an older generation; she used her index finger to peck at each letter as she found them on the miniature keyboard.

Then I saw an oddity. Another lady, this one closer to my age, actually had a book that she was reading. A book from the library!  I can’t explain to you why this was so refreshing to me, only to tell you that it was. I began to think about the different generations of all the people in this small room, and how each person had their own stories to tell. This thought development helped the long wait seem less painful.

As we got closer to the front of the line I started noticing something that brought back some of the vexation. People were being turned away after reaching the counter they had yearned for. Missing documents, wrong documents or even the wrong office were the reasons spouted by the under-paid clerks before sending the seeker on their way. As I looked through the many documents in my possession that are required to obtain a simple learner’s permit I said a prayer, “please let it be right dear Lord.”

My heart sank when I saw that the date on the required proof of school attendance had expired. Sara had obtained it from school just before the Christmas break; I had let too much time pass. By now there were three clerks working and the line was moving at its fastest.  I tried to read the body language of the clerks. Which one was most likely to overlook such a minor error? Logic lead me to the one who had been at the counter the longest, surely her eyes were strained. I prayed again, “Lord, let her be the one that sings the word ‘Next’.”

We left without a permit. I left with a disappointed daughter. But she’s strong. We will get the corrections made and once again scale the mountain that is the D.M.V.

God is everywhere. That is what this blog is about, so you may be asking, “Jim, where is God in this story?” Well I’ll tell you.

First; the people. There were so many people in that small office, each with their own story, and each with their own future. Some were comical, the little old lady from La Vernia, soliciting the sympathy of those in front of her. Some were annoying, the complainers about no numbers and no chairs. All were created by God. He sees them differently than I. I pray that one day I will see them as He does.

Second; if Christ lived today and stood in the long lines of the D.M.V., he would likely tell us, “Render to the government that which is theirs, and make sure you have it right.

And last-there was a time in my life that I would have been furious that so much time had been wasted because of a lack of attention. But you see, God my Father has comforted me when I felt let down, when I didn’t get something I longed for. He taught me to comfort my daughter, which I hope I was able to do. And when it comes time to stand in that line again, I will, even with its annexation onto the Anti-Bucket List.