Pennsylvania DMV
I haven’t written this up (though I’ve told it to several people), but I was inspired by an almost identical account over on PA Pundits.
The first thing you need to know is that everything but getting your DL here is privatized. Plates? Get them at the AAA, Tri-County, or any number of other places. Registration? Ditto. The only thing the DMV does is DLs. That’s it.
Now, you’d think they’d be pretty efficient with that little to do, right? Wrong.
So I drove to the DMV, more or less right across from the prison. I was there right after they opened, and when I walked in, I was the only person there who didn’t work there.
The first part was a breeze. I walked up to the woman, gave her my IDs, and bang! she gave me the card and told me to take it to the people over on the other side, where they’d take my picture and get me my DL.
You did catch the part about how I was the only person there who didn’t work there, right? It’s important.
So I walk up to the counter, and there are two people there, having a pleasant conversation. They ignored me for a few minutes, and again, this is important: I was the only person there. The guy then looks up at me and says, “Take a number.”
Uhm, okay. I took a number and sat down. They continued their conversation for a few minutes — during which time nobody else came in (that’s important) — and then the guy gets up, looks out over the empty chairs (empty with the sole exception of the one in which I sat) and said in a loud voice:
“Seventy-one! Seventy-one!”
I looked around, wondering if there were a back door other people had entered, then sat down behind me. Nope. I was still the only person there. I stood up, walked to the counter, and gave him my number.
He took my card and asked me if I wanted to register to vote. I said sure. That was when I found out Pennsylvania was a party registration state (Indiana is not) — when I had to look into some little viewscreen and answer questions. When that was over, he told me to take a seat and my DL would be ready in a few minutes.
I sat. They talked. I sat. They talked. I watched my DL come out of the printer. They talked. Eventually, he stood up, got my DL, and called my name, again looking out over the seats and in a loud voice meant to carry in an amphitheater.
Again, I looked for that back door. Nope. Nobody else in there.
I guess they’re bored.