My Visit to Hell

I went to Hell this week...

Luckily, it was a short visit...

It was awful, though, while I was there...not a place I would want to be in permanently...

I was at the DMV office to re-license one car and license the new car. Joy. There is no place I'd rather be than the DMV office. NOT. Ugh.

I gathered up all of my paperwork (who knew it takes practically a briefcase anymore to hold all of the necessary documents?! Geesh.) and headed into Hell.

I walked in and took a number - #66 - (thank God it wasn't #666 - that would have been a little too creepy!) and sat down to wait my turn. My plan was to get this necessary evil done and then head into the Red Cross office to get some work done, so I was wearing my Red Cross shirt and badge. A lady next to me decided to strike up a conversation about volunteering for the Red Cross, and so I happily engaged with her, while listening intently for my number to be called. I'm talented like that - it comes from having a butt-load of kids - the ability to talk and still listen intently on something totally unrelated....I could be totally engaged in talking with one kid while listening intently for the possibility of sounds of other kids killing each other in the next room. A necessary skill if you're a mom of lots and lots of children....

But I digress....So, they call #64....and then, they call #65, and I begin to fidget, knowing I'm next. Woot! Woot!

And then...they do the unthinkable. They call #67. Seriously. They SKIP #66. Are you kidding me???!!??!!

I immediately say, "What? What happened to #66? Did anyone hear them call #66?" I ask the people around me anxiously....

The general consensus among my fellow Hell-visitors is that "No, they didn't call #66. You'd better go say something."

Great. I approach the counter and stand back a little, waiting for my opportunity to politely (of course) point out to the dear ladies of the DMV office that they are a bunch of idiots if they don't know that #66 really IS a number and should have been called after #65. Duh.

One of the DMV ladies eyes me warily - as I am basically standing in No-Man's Land - and says, "What?! Do you NEED something?"

"I need you to call #66....you skipped it."

"No, we didn't."

"Yes, you did. No one heard you call it...."

"Well - go sit down and we'll call it. When we're ready."

I go sit down and one of my fellow Hell-visitors says, "They may have called it - under their BREATH!" I snicker and immediately get a look that could kill from the DMV lady. Oops. I'm already on thin ice here - I'd better shape up.

The DMV lady apparently felt, after a while, that I had put in sufficient time in "Time Out" - and so she FINALLY called #66. My fellow Hell-visitors actually broke into a round of applause when I was called.

I felt like I had won the Oscar or something....it was all I could do to not turn around and bow to my audience.

However, lesson learned: don't piss off the DMV ladies. They have the POWER.

Peace.