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| It looked pretty hoppin' |
When I first went in to The DMV on Main Street, I came in with an open mind, honest. I figured that it had been around for so long, and was so established in the community, it had to be good, right? So I embarked headfirst on what turned out to be my worst experience in all my years. By the end I felt like it was managed by Nicolas Cage and employed by Oompa Loompas.
My first impression of the establishment was resoundingly positive. There was a good number of customers. This is the first thing I look for in a business. A good business has good happy patrons. The establishment was clean and polished. I approached the receptionist with an air of utmost optimism concerning service experience I was about to have. Sometimes, though, good first impressions just set you up for chaotic rides through a death valley of customer service and hope-sucking feelings of utter despair that you hope we'll not last your entire life long.
The receptionist greeted me with a astonishingly pervasive air of disinterest. From what I hear, I was lucky that it was a Friday. On the other days of the week the DMV receptionists oscillate from churlish to irritable to venomous. For the sake of a standard of comparison that would be (respectively) Oscar the Grouch, some people's bowels, and Jafar when he turned into a giant crazyass snake. I shudder to think of their attitudes on minor holidays when they have to come to work. But it got worse...
As I waited to be "desked", I was forced to endure what those in the business call "the everlasting wait" or "the depths of wondering and discouraging despair". This, I came to know firsthand, is a business practice wherein the customer is forced to sit in what can only be described as a "flight of chairs" or a bunch of plastic chairs welded onto metal bars like a twisted seesaw that doesn't even move (and has 10 or so chairs). There was no pleasant seesaw motion either (sadface). This in itself would be fine except for what we all were facing: A mocking screen that showed the numbers of those being helped and who was up next. It was like having to pee and getting cut in line to the bathroom ad infinitum. It was cruel. It was unusual. It was punishment.
After my number was called I was "desked". As I stood there I gave the lady my order. I thought I would start out with a nice license, move on to a registration (the special of the day), and maybe finish with a light vanity plate. I waited for these things for what seemed like hours. Each came slower than the last. I thought my items were sloughing towards completion being mired in the swamp of Degobah. By the end, my wallet was light, my needs satisfied on paper but not in reality, and I generally felt like P Diddy waking up in the morning. I resolved never to go again to that establishment of HELL.
A couple weeks later I went back again to see if my experience might be different. It was worse. It was on the last day of the month. DMV will definitely never be seeing my business again.
A Disgruntled User
~Worley
As I waited to be "desked", I was forced to endure what those in the business call "the everlasting wait" or "the depths of wondering and discouraging despair". This, I came to know firsthand, is a business practice wherein the customer is forced to sit in what can only be described as a "flight of chairs" or a bunch of plastic chairs welded onto metal bars like a twisted seesaw that doesn't even move (and has 10 or so chairs). There was no pleasant seesaw motion either (sadface). This in itself would be fine except for what we all were facing: A mocking screen that showed the numbers of those being helped and who was up next. It was like having to pee and getting cut in line to the bathroom ad infinitum. It was cruel. It was unusual. It was punishment.
After my number was called I was "desked". As I stood there I gave the lady my order. I thought I would start out with a nice license, move on to a registration (the special of the day), and maybe finish with a light vanity plate. I waited for these things for what seemed like hours. Each came slower than the last. I thought my items were sloughing towards completion being mired in the swamp of Degobah. By the end, my wallet was light, my needs satisfied on paper but not in reality, and I generally felt like P Diddy waking up in the morning. I resolved never to go again to that establishment of HELL.
A couple weeks later I went back again to see if my experience might be different. It was worse. It was on the last day of the month. DMV will definitely never be seeing my business again.
A Disgruntled User
~Worley
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