Here I free the poor creature who I have so unjustly strapped into her state mandated carseat. We walk up to the door. It doesn't open. There is no sign on the door, but no sign of life inside either.
I take the two girls back to the car. Repeat my horrible abuse of Gabriella and again help Kate with her seatbelt. Gabby is again screaming as I call my husband to find out where on earth they moved the DMV to. I drive while we wait to hear back. Pull into a parking lot after the crying is down to a whimper and call back to find out that they have moved alright, but that it's not posted on the website. Justin had to call the DMV. There the woman told him he was about the 50th call of the morning. Gee, I wonder what on earth would cause that, except, oh yes--there is no other way to find out this information. Perhaps in the future they should change their phone number when they move so no one can find them.
The girls and I finally arrive at the new DMV site. By now it's lunch time, but we're on a mission. I take our number and look at the automated system--19 minutes. Last year it was five, so fine. I wasn't really prepared, I hadn't brought books or toys, but we could pass 20 minutes. Then the number jumped to 38 minutes. It took an hour for us to be called and get out the door.
Oh, and to add insult to injury, in addition to the new site being unadvertised they didn't improve efficiency or even gain any space. The lobby had a concrete floor and they brought over the same old church pews and old scuffed up chairs. Why move?
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