Sunday, November 29, 2009
Waiting on the DMV
Luanne Traud
Recent columns
- An end to government-approved theft
- What's the harm in a little pinch?
- More guns, less safety
- A hot dog cart on every street corner
From the RoundTable blog
Had I been less vain, I could have opted for the commonwealth's offer to use the photo on file to fashion my new driver's license. But then I would have been sentenced to another four years of carrying The Most Dreadful Picture Ever.
I know the law mandates a driver's license photo must not flatter. But anytime I've pulled mine out in the beer line, the person checking IDs gives me a knowing look. He understands why I drink.
How bad is the picture? Combine a sweltering summer day, a bad hair cut (think accidental mullet), a rash of poison ivy on top of sunburn, an interminable Saturday wait at the DMV with little air circulation and the unfortunate wardrobe choice of a red top. It's a study in scarlet. Got the picture?
So I have waited patiently for a remedy, aging more gracefully than my photo. To prepare, I had my hair cut two weeks prior, so it would be neither too short nor too shaggy. I carefully applied makeup and picked a color that would best accentuate my complexion, though the new picture I knew would be in black and white. But there is the hologram to consider. I was taking no chances on ruining this one shot.
I was so ready.
The DMV was not.
Day 1: Before leaving the office, I checked the Web site, saw that the wait in Roanoke was 7 minutes and 23 seconds. Not bad.
Much to my delight, unlike the old DMV there was no line snaking outside. Nice. I flung open the door and found it was still there, still waiting. Eventually, I was assigned "A069" just as the intercom voice, eerily similar to an airport's, noted they were now boarding, strike that, serving, A058.
I scouted out an empty chair and took in my surroundings. The new DMW looks much the same as the old DMV only with a different color scheme and a flooring upgrade.
Noticeably absent are the electronic message boards that let the crowd figure their estimated time of arriving at a window.
Some 28 minutes after entering (just four times longer than expected!) A069 was called. My hair still in place, my jacket smoothed of wrinkles, I approached the counter.
The nice lady said she was so very sorry. The picture-taking computer was down; it had been going on and off for two days; don't know when it will be back up, 20 minutes or two hours; I was more than welcome to wait.
Day 2: I checked the Web site: a 10 minute, 4 second wait, which given the quadruple rule was lunch-hour doable. Plus, I noted, the DMV advises the best time to visit is the middle of the week in the middle of the month. I couldn't have picked a more middle time to a middle day.
This time, the count was accurate. I waited in the standing line for exactly 10 minutes and 4 seconds, thinking this was doing little to keep my picture-primping fresh.
Finally, I arrive at the counter. The number-issuing lady informed me the computer was up before it was down -- again. More than welcome to wait; it might come back up by the time my number is called; been acting this way for days; no one knows.
Just my luck, the two days I try the DMV, the computers would crash. What a relief then to stumble across a Richmond Times-Dispatch story and learn that the system wasn't out to get me. It was out to get everyone.
Blame VITA, the Virginia Information Technologies Agency, that gave $2.3 billion to Northrop Grumman to run every state agency's computer systems not very well. The T-D story says for five weeks this fall, the DMV had 12 computer system outages, accounting for 100 hours of down time. One outage lasted 29 hours, which could explain the hollow, defeated faces encamped on DMV chairs.
If, like me, you think a computer system this vital would have backup, you would be wrong.
Day 3: The nice DMV lady said the wait is shortest first thing in the morning. I left the house at 8 a.m., and decided to phone ahead to make sure the computer was fixed. The pleasant recording informed me that the wait to speak with an agent would be 9 minutes, several minutes longer than the decision point in which I could opt to chance it or go on to work.
I gambled. The wait was nonexistent. The computer was up.
Day 5: The Grimmest Photo Ever arrives in the mail. I note with great relief that I need not return to the DMV for eight years. Perhaps, by then, VITA will get its money's worth from Northrop Grumman.
Traud is a member of The Roanoke Times editorial board.
