A Day at the License Branch

I spent part of my morning taking care of a few things that couldn’t be handled over the internet or via mail at the local BMV and the experience reminded me there’s a lot to like about the modern age in which we live. I spend a lot of time fondly reflecting on the past and sometimes glossing over its flaws. Here in Indiana we can renew driver licenses and plates via mail or internet, chores which when I was growing up required sacrificing a day on the altar of government inefficiency.

You can tell how I feel about the prospect of spending time at the BMV, but I have to point out that I got in and out within a half hour and without anything more irritating than dealing with a slack-jawed clerk to complain about. The experience was less painful than grocery shopping or the daily commute, still it seems onerous. Maybe turning yourself over to the BMV violates a fundamental human need for self-direction. You walk into the building, take a number, and then spend a few mind-numbing hours waiting to be shuttled from station to station where bureaucratic drones shoot simple if terse questions at you. Maybe it’s the fact that there are two modern American institutions which seem to pride themselves on being openly antagonistic toward their customers: the airlines and the state.

I don’t know, all I can say is what I expected to end with a bang went out with a whimper and I’m okay with that.