Me’n the MVD (A re-post)

dontravis.com blog post #353

  

Courtesy of driver-tests.org

A news item on TV the other night about residents of some states not in compliance with secure ID requirements having difficulty gaining access to federal buildings and departure gates at the local airport this coming year reminded me of my tussle with New Mexico's MVD when they switched to secured IDs.

In other words, all state-issued driver’s licenses must have a white star in a circular gold field in the upper right-hand corner of the little piece of plastic. If your license does not already have one, be prepared to go through bureaucratic hell. Inasmuch as I had passed through these same fiery gates some years back, I dug out the post of November 15, 2016  and republished it below. 

That post also advised readers that the first of my BJ Vinson murder series, The Zozobra Incident, had been released that same day by Dreamspinner Press. Co-incidentally, the sixth in the series, The Voxlightner Scandal, is scheduled for release on November 19 of this year.

By the way, I passed up the opportunity to use a New Mexico license as photo art and settled on an Arizona license because that one has the coveted star in the upper right. And the photo of Mr. Sample certainly is not me. (You can tell from the hairline.)

My tussle with the MVD to obtain the coveted secure license is described below:

*****

ME AND THE MVD

Anyone going to the Motor Vehicle Division to get or renew a New Mexico driver’s license is in for a shock.

For some time now, the powers that be in the Land of Enchantment have dillied and dallied (not to mention dithered) over new requirements the feds imposed for issuing licenses that serve as secured IDs for boarding airliners or entering a federal building or base. Each year we failed to get our act together, and each year the federal authorities granted us a delay in coming into compliance.

I’m here to tell you that has come to an end. As of Monday, November 14, 2016, all New Mexico licenses issued—including both new and renewals—meet the federal standards. But getting them is something else.

My license expired a few days back, but I held out until we were FAA compliant. On Monday, I watched a local news program that explained you needed proof you were who you said you were and that you were legally present in the United States, either by birthright or by legal immigration.

Trip One

Went to nearest MVD office Tuesday a.m. a little before 9:00. Took a number (63) and was called to Window 10 about 20 minutes later.

“What can I do for you,” Window 10 asked.

“I want one of those super-duper driver’s licenses that serve as ID for airline flights.” With that, I confidently shoved both my driver’s license and the passport I got last year (in case NM didn’t get compliant before the feds banned our licenses).

“Where’s the rest of it?” he asked.

“Rest of what? My passport’s got everything you need. And it’s official. Confirmed by the good old USofA.”

“No, you need your Social Security Card and two things confirming your legal residency.”

He refused to listen to reason. Hopped into my car and raced back home (with an expired license, remember).

Trip Two

 Spent half an hour trying to print online copies of a PNM bill, grabbed my lease agreement and Social Security Card and sped back to the MVD. The waiting room was full. My number this time was 112, with some 40 numbers ahead of me waiting to be called. If each one took 10 minutes, I’d be out of here in another 400 minutes. How many hours is that? Forgot to bring a calculator. Also forgot to bring something to read, so settled down to people watching… which got old. Fast.

Then I lucked out. The woman sitting beside me couldn’t wait any longer and offered me her ticket. Number 93. Thanked her and grabbed the scrap of paper that ought to cut 190 minutes off my wait time. Eventually, I was called to Window 12.

What can I do for you?” Window 12 asked.

A little more sullen now, I answered, “Driver’s license.”

I pulled out the sheaf of papers I’d brought and shoved them beneath the thick pane of glass between him and me, now appreciating his need for a protective device between him and his clients.

He shuffled through bits and pieces of my life until he came to the SS card. “This is your Medicare Card, not your Social Security Card.”

“It has the same information on it, they’re issued by the same agency, and they’re both red, white, and blue. Should be okay.”

“Afraid not. I have to have the Social Security card or your SS-1099 or—”

“Okay, okay! This is the second time I’ve been here, but I’ll go get it.”

After he condescended to tell me to return to him without pulling a new number, I risked another APD speeding ticket by racing home once again.

Trip Three

I located the Social Security Card (adjacent to where the Medicare card had been stored), jerked it out, and once again high-tailed it to the MVD. (Hey, APD… that’s four opportunities to nail me you missed).

Number 12 had a client, but he saw and acknowledged me. Ten minutes later, he was free, but indicated he had one other return customer ahead of me. I sat back down while the gentleman who took my rightful seat before Number 12 got titles transferred on two vehicles (a lengthy chore, I can tell you) before starting the process of getting a driver’s license renewed. As I fidgeted and fumed, I heard a number called. Number 112. Lo and behold, I still had that number in my pocket, so I beelined it to Window Eleven.

“What can I do for you today?”

I wearily shoved everything at her and leaned back wondering what he’d find wrong this time.

“Looks like you have everything, sir. Let’s get you taken care of.”

  

I walked out of the MVD for the final time at 12:26 p.m. Getting that license ate up almost four hours of my life… however, that did include travel time.

*****

AN APOLOGY TO THE 200 OR SO WHO CHECKED OUT THE SITE EARLIER, BUT FOR SOME UNKNOWN REASON, THE TEXT FAILED TO PRINT. 

I hope this is fair warning to those just applying for a secure license and brings back fond (is that the right word?) memories for those who have already done so.

The advance buy link for The Voxlightner Scandal follows:  http://www.dsppublications.com/books/upcoming-releases-c

Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say, so say it!

My personal links: (Note the change in the Email address because I’m still getting remarks on the old dontravis21@gmail.com. PLEASE DON’T USE THAT ONE.)

                                                                                                    

Email: don.travis@aol.com.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/donald.travis.982

Twitter: @dontravis3

Buy links to Abaddon’s Locusts:

https://www.dsppublications.com/books/abaddons-locusts-by-don-travis-486-b

https://www.dsppublications.com/books/abaddons-locusts-by-don-travis-487-b

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/Abaddons-Locusts-Vinson-Mystery-Book-ebook/dp/B07JLHKJLY

Apple: https://itunes.apple.com/ca/book/abaddons-locusts/id1439968525

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/ca/en/ebook/abaddon-s-locusts

Google: https://play.google.com/store/books/details?id=R0Z0DwAAQBAJ

Barnes & Noble: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/abaddons-locusts-don-travis/1129769593

See you next week.

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

My Most Recent Trip to the NM Motor Vehicle Department

New Meico State Flag

My New Mexico Driver’s License required renewing this month, so I planned a trip to the nearest Motor Vehicle Department office in order to complete the process. Over the past few decades, a visit to MVD had been a time-consuming, patience-eroding, thoroughly unpleasant experience.

But in the past few years, the department has reformed itself and streamlined the process. The last two times I was at MVD, my task was accomplished in no more than thirty minutes. In and out with my mission successfully accomplished. Of course, that pleasant surprise was somewhat marred by dropping my new license two years ago somewhere between the agency’s front door and my car. I didn’t discover the loss until I was home, and by then it was too late. But I stray from my purpose.

I have learned that the key to such a benign experience at MVD is to get there early before a whole host of citizens clamoring for attention and assistance overwhelm the fragile system.

Accordingly, I rise early Tuesday morning in order to arrive at the nearest Motor Vehicle office before the 8:00 a.m. opening hour. Not too bad. I am the ninth person standing before the as yet closed and locked door. Now, some people will argue this constitutes standing in line to avoid waiting in line, but that’s their viewpoint, not mine. I figure an investment of a little time to avoid a larger investment of time is time well spent. (My writing class would shudder at the use of the word “time” thrice in one sentence. Note the neat way I avoided using it twice in that sentence?)

At five minutes past eight, the door opens. When I receive my number from the machine that spits out numbers, it is … appropriately … Number Nine. I take my seat and wait to be called. Within ten minutes, an electronic voice calls for Number Nine to report to Window Four. I lurch to my feet (okay, I crawl to my feet) and nearly run over a woman who looks a lot older than I am (but probably isn’t). Window four handles my application quite efficiently, hands back the appropriate papers, and instructs me to take a seat again and wait to be called to Window One for a photo and to complete the process.

I take a seat convenient to Window One and am only two numbers away from being called when some fellow with an officious voice comes out and announces the system has crashed. All over the city. In fact, all over the state. And that includes the private places that -- for a hefty fee -- provide such services on roller-skates. The longest period of time spent on their premices is taken up by writing your generous check to them.

System down. Computers not working. And I’m in the middle of the process. I can wait an indeterminate period of time for the nerds to correct the situation or leave and start the process all over again at another time. In other words, I can get up very early two mornings in a row to accomplish one morning’s worth of chores. Inasmuch as I do not have an early Wednesday appointment, I opt to wait.

The MVD staff apply themselves to decorating the office for Halloween with stuff that looks like spider webs (complete with spiders), jack-o-lanterns, and what-nots while I settle back to view my surroundings. As the wait becomes longer and longer, our crowd of forty or so people begins to dwindle. Other things to do or patience expended, people leave, including the fat, blustery loud-mouth who’s not shy about announcing in stentorian terms he’s never seen a state as disorganized, bungling, and … well, lousy as New Mexico.

The remaining crowd of around twenty includes one Native American and two Blacks, with the remainder about evenly split between Hispanics and Anglos. Why is that significant? It isn’t, but it’s what is, so I notice. Most are forty years of age or less, and the majority are overweight (ahem, including me). Two of the younger guys wear their trousers down around their hips, and I kept expecting them to lose the battle with gravity and head for the floor, but miraculously, that doesn’t happen.

At one point, I notice eight of the score of people have phones out with thumbs working overtime. I figure five are texting while the other three are playing some sort of game. Four more are actually talking on the phone. These are four people I understand. My little flip-phone doesn’t play games, and I don’t text. So it stays in my pocket.

Two hours and thirty minutes later, the system comes alive again, and guess what? We all have to draw new numbers. So I start all over with a new number. Thirty minutes later, I head home with my license renewed.

Oh well, I can sleep-in tomorrow.

Thanks for reading my blog. Please consider giving it a “like” or a comment. I like comments … even when they’re not so complimentary. I’m just pleased to hear from readers.

Thanks,

Don

New Posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.

I’m at Home Hiding Under My Bed

Not exactly under the bed. I…uh, well, let’s be frank. I wouldn’t fit under there even if it were up on blocks. But that’s my mental state of mind. Hiding out. Let me explain.

Some of my recent posts have focused on my “foibles.” More bluntly, my goofs, mistakes, lapses, outrageous omissions, and…you get the idea. Last Friday, I committed one of my best.

I recently changed automobile insurance companies and was expecting a rebate from my old policy in order to help pay for the new one. It arrived Friday. Anxious to get it into my account, I drove to the bank fairly late that afternoon. Before I slipped the check, together with my bank card and driver’s license, into the shushing vacuum tube that mysteriously whisks them to a teller, I noticed the license had expired two days earlier.

Although I was sockless, in house slippers, and wearing my lounging pants (which some call pajama bottoms), I raced to a Motor Vehicle Department office not far from the bank. Once there, I had to get a number from a machine. Okay, nothing unusual about that…but it insisted I select the type of service I wanted—and none of them read “Renew a Driver’s License.” So I punched a likely button and received a number with a 700 digit on it (they were calling number 167 at the time).

After taking a seat and fretting over the fact there weren’t 500 people sitting in the waiting room, I concluded I’d asked for the wrong service. Several other clients had come in and taken a number before I decided to take action. I made a second guess at the check-in machine and got a more appropriate number. Like 197. Made more sense. There were about 30 people plus children and hangers-on in the room. Long and short of it…hours later, I got my temporary renewal license, a paper thing that’s to serve notice the real, genuine, plastic doodad is on its way. Instructions accompanying the phony license gave stern warning to keep the paper one with the expired license for ID purposes. Happy to get out of there, I returned to my car, clutching the paperwork.

Can you guess what happened next? You got it. When I got out of the car at home, I discovered my expired license was missing. Another trip to MVD. Nothing where my car had been parked. Not a scrap of paper (or plastic) between there and the office. The guard on the door said no one had turned in a lost license to her. Feeling I was about to be the victim of ID theft and all sorts of fraud, I returned home to fret some more. By the way, I'm a worrier.

The MVD was closed over the weekend, so early Monday morning, I started calling. I don’t know about your MVD, but in ours, you can hear the phones ringing and ringing and ringing. So I wasn’t surprised when no one answered. I tried several times. Unsuccessfully. On my way to the writing class I co-teach, I stopped by and found a sign on the door saying they were closed for Columbus Day, a state and federal holiday. Duh! (To be honest, I also checked on my mail twice…once after finding the note on MVD’s door.)

All of that was set-up for what follows. Tuesday morning, I had three calls to make. The first was to MVD. The phone was answered after the second ring, and “Yes sir, we have your license in Lost and Found. You can pick it up anytime.”

Relieved and elated, I made the second call to the North Domingo Baca Multigenerational Center to ask for permission to move our class from 2:00 p.m. to 1:30 p.m. and keep that as our permanent home (we were there as guests while Bear Canyon Senior Center was under repair). “Yes sir. We can accommodate both of those requests.”

The third call was to take advantage of a benefit offered by my health insurance company to have a nurse conduct a Health and Well-Being Assessment (even though I’d told them this was a “no call” number and hung up on them when they'd phoned a week ago to make the appointment). “Yes sir, the nurse can be there on the morning of the 29th.” No mention of my previous rudeness.

Wow! The day was going great. I got in the car and painlessly retrieved my lost license. Then I went to Smiths for some grocery shopping and found they had paper bags. They haven’t had paper bags for weeks!

That’s when I tumbled to what was going on. I was being set up for a fall. This day couldn’t go anywhere but down. I drove home using extra care. I obeyed the speed limit and didn’t even tailgate. Once parked successfully, I entered my apartment, locked the door, and figuratively hid under the bed.

 

Next week: I’ll think of something.

New posts are published at 6:00 a.m. each Thursday.