The Driver’s License facility is utterly painful.
And I thought California’s DMV was bad. I moved out to Fort Collins last year and needed to obtain a new driver’s license. That experience alone kept me out of the facility for months, that is, until I got married. I am now reliving the nightmare of the experience all over again. The Colorado Department of Driver’s Licenses in Fort Collins is an unpleasant place. In fact, it’s absolutely painful. My dentist at Alpine Dental makes it less painful to get a cavity filled than the Driver’s License facility to get a license. I’d rather see the dentist for several fillings than go to Driver’s License. I’m sure some might even go as far as to say that they’d rather get a root canal.
Now it doesn’t matter that they have moved to a new place on Swallow and College Ave, or their computers are slower until the official upgrade, move or whatever they are blaming their issues on. The entire experience is painful. From the moment one walks in the door, the monochromatic chairs all facing the front immediately drain the excitement you may have had to “just conquer” the Driver’s License facility. Why are all the patrons facing that way anyway? Obviously the staff isn’t bothered by the zombie-like stares that shoot from every angle of the room. And the smell. The combination of the new paint on the walls, the smokers trying to ease their anxiety outside and the smell of Teen Spirit all mixed into one fabulous concoction can make one fall ill. The walls are bare, white and cold.
The people waiting in the gray chairs represent may different groups in Fort Collins. My favorite are the teens with their parents. The teens are slowly dying on the inside, waiting for their number to be called. Five-Fifty-Two…Five-Fifty-Three…dying to take their test. Dying to find out if they have passed or failed. Hey, don’t worry kid…haven’t you seen some of the drivers out there already? At least you read that Colorado Driver Booklet from cover-to-cover so you will be just fine (and yes, it’s possibly the only book you’ve read like that in many years). Plug in that ipod and turn up some music—drown out the sound of the zombie like moans coming from every direction. Five-fifty-four. Five-Fifty-Five.
Another one of my favorite groups of people are the elderly. I love how they sit in the chairs, waiting patiently for their number to be called. Their etiquette should be contagious, but the annoying girl behind them, chewing gum like a cow while complaining on the phone to her boyfriend, never gets the picture. And why are the elderly waiting!? I’d be afraid that one might pass on before their number is called. The worst part was that the old, feisty man who had waited 3 hours to only find out that the staff hadn’t fully “unpacked” and he should come back at a different time.
Now why is there even someone at the little ticket counter? No matter which question you ask, her answer is, “Take a number.”
“Take a number.”
“No, that’s not what I wanted, I was wondering…”
“Take a number.”
I take a number and sit.
After trying to get an answer, I just took a number and hoped I had enough cash to pay for my new license.
“We only take cash and checks. No plastic…that’s what I said, no plastic.” This is in response to caller number 26.
Why is this place painful? Because it’s inefficient, but that’s a whole different opinion.
Is there a solution? Yes, but you have to take a number first.
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