I have not updated here in a long time! But I’ll sum up the summer like this: pool, sunburn, disney, seattle, family and fun.
Now today, things got really interesting. After being in Georgia a year I finally got off my slacker butt and made my way down Buford Highway to the DMV.
The following series of events caused my dad and I to just break down in tears we were laughing so hard by the end of it all:
- At the Atlanta DMV you stand in line to receive a number to stand in line to take an eye test to stand in line to take a picture. My last experience getting a drivers license while in Chillicothe, Illinois consisted of me walking into a small room with 6 chairs set up, taking a number from the lady who was desperate to give me a number, sitting down only to hear her say to me (as the room was empty), we’re ready for you now.
- By the time I got to the first desk to get my number, I pulled out my information only to be told that the “stop check” notice I got in the mail from my bank (as I receive paperless billing) was not, in fact, good enough of an address check for them. (The stop-payment thing was on a washing machine repair gone terribly wrong but ended up with a new washing machine as a result, yay!)
- The lady at the desk sent me two buildings down to the Department of Labor to use a computer there to print off a statement from my bank. The line in that building was 15 minutes long. The following was the conversation that took place with the lady at the desk there:
Me: Hello, I am needing to print a bank statement off for the DMV.
Lady: Off of a computer?
Lady: We don’t do that, I can print your wages.
Me: (confused) Well.. no, I am a nanny regardless – but I don’t need wages, I need a copy of my bank statement and need to use a computer.
Lady: Well we can’t print that here.
Me: I can’t use a computer?
Lady: Oh! A computer! Oh yeah.. you can find them over there. Talk to the man in the blue shirt (who was not wearing a name tag).
- I stood in line for another 5 minutes to talk to the blue shirted man, only to be told the computers were open for free use. But unfortunately, they did not have Adobe Reader installed on them so printing out a bank statement was not going to happen. My dad (who was there with me, thank Jesus, for support in the scary Buford Hwy type of way) just got fed up and said we’re just going to find a branch of my bank. We found one – 2 miles back toward the house. Oh well.
- I went into my bank and was greeted by the rudest teller I’ve come across yet. The following is our conversation:
Me: Hello, I need a printed copy of my bank statement with an address on it to provide the DMV.
Lady: … (strange look)
Me: Can you do that?
Lady: Well, do you have an account with us?
Me: … (strange look) … Yes… yes I do.
Lady: (huge sigh) I guess.
- Dad and I headed back to the DMV.. on the way we pass a man pedaling away hard at his bicycle, gripping his handbar with one hand while the other held tightly to a 24 case of beer wrapped in about 4 plastic sacks and hung between his legs. We giggled.
- It’s now almost two hours since we started. I get back into the DMV, walk to the desk, get my number and go wait in line for my number to be called. About 20 minutes go by, then I get called and walk to the correct desk. The lady takes my birth certificate, current drivers license and my newly acquired bank statement, looks at it and says, you need this mailed to you.
- After a small argument with the woman she decided, very wisely, to take the bank statement as is. I read off the letters, saw the flashing lights and headed off to stand in line for my picture to be taken.
- While getting my picture taken a man who can only be described as “Bubba” made off-color jokes to me in an attempt to get me to smile big. Then he handed me a drivers license with a picture that made it appear as if I have a big hole where one of my front teeth were. Yes folks- it’s an ink blot that has officially made me a Georgia hick.
With all that said and done – I am now officially registered as a GA resident and paid that extra bit so I won’t have to go back for ten years. Hallalujah.