Recidiva
Harastal
- Joined
- Sep 3, 2005
- Posts
- 89,726
It has taken me almost a year to get a new driver's license in the state that gave me my first driver's license.
I've had three name changes, and I was lacking one marriage certificate to prove a chain of evidence from birth certificate to current license.
State of California says "You were married in 1987? That's one of those years we can't access. Due to budget cutbacks."
So back and forth with California three times until I really get that they're not going to help me under any circumstances.
I finally contact a third party who will find my birth certificate for them if I fax a bunch of forms and a check entirely oversized for finding a piece of paper.
I get it. I go back to the DMV with my original folder of proof. "I'm sorry ma'am, but this is an expired proof of address. Must be within 90 days."
Crap. I go home, look through a folder. Look! August! There's an 8 on it, this is new. I go back to the DMV. Ma'am, I'm so sorry, this is August 2012.
Gah.
Okay. Fourteenth time's the charm, right?
I'm going to drive to the DMV again, in a few minutes. I fully expect alien attack or lame kitten in the road to prevent this if I haven't fucked up the fifteen forms of validation they require this time.
If the world ends, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I just wanted a current driver's license.
I've had three name changes, and I was lacking one marriage certificate to prove a chain of evidence from birth certificate to current license.
State of California says "You were married in 1987? That's one of those years we can't access. Due to budget cutbacks."
So back and forth with California three times until I really get that they're not going to help me under any circumstances.
I finally contact a third party who will find my birth certificate for them if I fax a bunch of forms and a check entirely oversized for finding a piece of paper.
I get it. I go back to the DMV with my original folder of proof. "I'm sorry ma'am, but this is an expired proof of address. Must be within 90 days."
Crap. I go home, look through a folder. Look! August! There's an 8 on it, this is new. I go back to the DMV. Ma'am, I'm so sorry, this is August 2012.
Gah.
Okay. Fourteenth time's the charm, right?
I'm going to drive to the DMV again, in a few minutes. I fully expect alien attack or lame kitten in the road to prevent this if I haven't fucked up the fifteen forms of validation they require this time.
If the world ends, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, I just wanted a current driver's license.