The Weekly Rant: Why Every DMV Visit Feels Like Time Travel to 1987

I renewed my driver's license last week. This required me to take a day off work, drive to a building that closes at 4:30 PM for reasons nobody can explain, and sit in a chair designed by someone who actively hates the human spine.

"The waiting room chair is not a seat. It's a torture device with municipal funding."

There were approximately 847 people ahead of me. I know this because there was a machine that printed numbered tickets, which is technology that peaked in 1973 and has remained unchanged since. My number was B-847. The current number being served was B-12.

The Forms

I filled out a form. Then I filled out another form because the first form was the wrong form. Then I was told both forms were actually correct but I needed a third form that superseded the first two forms while simultaneously requiring information from both.

The third form asked for my mother's maiden name, my childhood pet's name, and the square root of my social security number. I'm only slightly exaggerating.

The Photo

At 3:47 PM—four hours and twelve minutes after my arrival—I was summoned to the photo station. The photographer said "smile" with the enthusiasm of someone who had said that word 40,000 times and meant it exactly zero of them.

"DMV photographers have seen things. Terrible things. They no longer believe in joy."

The resulting photo makes me look like I'm being held hostage by a very boring kidnapper.

The Grand Finale

After the photo, I was directed to Window 7 to pay. Window 7 was closed. Windows 1 through 6 were also closed. Window 8 had a sign that said "Please use Window 7."

I waited another 35 minutes until Window 7 reopened, paid $47 for the privilege of this experience, and was handed a temporary paper license that will absolutely disintegrate the first time it rains.

My real license will arrive in 6-8 weeks. In 2026. When we have electric cars that drive themselves.

Progress is beautiful.