Apr 15 2002
DMV
I hate the DMV. I equally hate the Department of Parking and Traffic. Here’s why.
In January, 2000, out of the goodness of my heart, I lent my adorable car Josephine to my friend Paul. He parked it across the street from his uncle’s place, and failed to realize that it was street cleaning day. $33 ticket. He also forgot to mention it to me (not on purpose, he’s just like that), and I got a notice in the mail in March informing me of the ticket’s existence. So I paid it. The DMV cashed it two days later. End of story, right?
Wrong.
When my registration was due in 2001, the DMV informed me that I hadn’t paid the ticket, and it was now $57. I got copies of the check, and sent them with letters to the DMV and the DPT. Foolishly, I thought that would be the end of it.
Wrong.
They each mailed the letters back to me with handwritten notes on them, each instructing me to call the other department. So I did. Guess what? The flunkeys who answered the phone each instructed me to call the other department.
Ditto this year. The exact same thing. Finally, the DMV person told me to come down there and bring all the paperwork with me.
Me: “So what you’re saying is I have to take time off from work and come down there to fix your mistake.”
DMV: “We’re sorry, ma’am, but you will have to come down here.”
Etc.
My brother tried to clear it up at the DMV where he lives, but they said the City & County of San Francisco was its own incorporated thing and they unfortunately couldn’t do anything about that. Ugh. Not surprisingly, I still haven’t called them and I still can’t stand the thought of it. I’m going to have to go and buy a really big can of patience somewhere before I go. But considering that I have jury duty next week, I think I’ll store up what little patience I have for that.