What is one of the state government-run places that most of you wish you never had to visit? I know you have several, but I would guess that the Office of Motor Vehicles is in the top five.
Now, that’s not because it is a horrible place. People do great work there.
But it is usually crowded and busy, and it’s out of the way. Sitting in the waiting room can sometimes be a bit nerve-wracking.
Just mentioning the OMV will get to some folk.
This will not be an attack on a necessary state agency that has to deal with a lot of people all day long. Not at all. This is in praise of a special person among a sea of faceless people who give their all for a job that gets no applause.
Ed Pratt
Recently, I had to get some official business done involving a car I own that I will not have on the street anytime soon. It was an insurance thing.
I arrived around mid-morning on Tuesday with paperwork in my hand, and I was ready to be there a while, because that’s what happens at the OMV. Sure enough, when I entered there was a line leading up to the information desk. A lot of seats in the waiting area were already full.
The looks on the faces of those waiting, some with children, were those of people who seemed to wish they were anywhere else. Again, I don’t blame the OMV for the situation.
After waiting about 20 minutes to get to the front desk, the woman announced: “Who has an appointment?” Then most everybody behind me moved to create a separate line next to me. The clerk started talking to them.
Looking at the frown on my face, she told me that I'd have to get an appointment. She gave me a slip that told me how to set up the appointment and away I went. I wasn’t too happy, but that’s the process.
The next day, armed with an appointment, I showed the details to the clerk and took my seat among the many other seated folks. About 25 minutes later, I heard someone call my name. A woman standing behind the counter said “Mr. Pratt, go to counter number (I can’t remember, so let’s say 22).”
Well, I stood around looking for the desk, not looking high enough on the wall to see the number. The woman called out to me and directed me to look up higher, and there it was, “22.”
I felt like the village’s other idiot. She smiled and said, “That happens sometimes.” Probably not too often, though.
I sat down and waited for the cold bureaucratic mumbo jumbo from someone who wished her day was coming to an end. But I didn’t get it. Not at all. She smiled and explained everything to me in short order.
I asked questions and she was willing and happy to answer, never saying “Hey dude, I’ve answered that question several times already.”
Then, for some reason, I felt obliged to tell her a little about myself. Wait, now I was taking up her time with useless conversation. She listened and even asked a question as she continued to process my paperwork.
She was nice enough to leave me with some advice for when I take the OMV information back to my vehicle insurer.
"Just make sure you are clear with what the insurance company is going to do and that you agree with everything," she said.
I thanked her and felt good about going to the OMV. Then I was stunned to find that our whole, wonderful encounter had lasted less than 10 minutes.
So here’s a big “thank you” to Stephanie Porter. I know that people in your position don’t get enough of that.
And here’s a tip of the hat to all the workers who do their best every day, in similar tough and thankless positions.
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