Getting a New Jersey License

So today we (my wife and I) went to the New Jersey Motor Vehicle Commission for new licenses and new plates for our cars. It was just what you might expect from the Peoeple's Republic of New Jersey. I rather bland building with rather interesting people working there.

The fun begins upon entry when you are greeted and asked: "What services do you need?"

"Changing driver's license and registration" we state. We are handed a batch of forms in a variety of color and texture and with several colors of highlighting on it for you to enjoy filling out. Some are cards, some are paper, some are one-sided, others are double-sided. Many have surprisingly similar information both presented and requested although in subtly different ways. I can not determine if this is a test to determine if I can answer similar questions the same way, or in fact some trickery to help befuddle the masses and make it more fun for the employees to watch the people attempt to fill them out. We fill out all of the license and registration information and are told that we need titles for the cars in order to register them. Since we don't have these, we decide that this will be another trip for another day and continue on for licenses.

I find it interesting that New Jersey considers the DMV what you might expect, although I've never seen it in print: "Department of Motor Vehicles". They also at times refer to themselves as: NJMVC - New Jersey Motor Vehicle Commission. I was almost tempted to ask them to fill out some of the afforementioned identification forms to see how they filled each out. I guess there is a difference between a Department and a Commission, but I surely can't determine the difference. Based upon this I think it is somehow indicative of the level of corruption within your organization.

After filling out all of the forms we step into line to have our existing documentation checked. The differences between this review of documents and a border crossing at "Checkpoint Charlie", are few: no guns thankfully, no one shouting: "papers, I must see your papers." There is an interesting point system having to do with passports, other licenses, primary and secondary documents. The people behind table A, flip through documents staring alternately between the documents and us, finally due to a preponderance of evidence (suffice to say we presented a bushel of paperwork) we exceed the criteria required to prove we are who we say. Having this documentation checked at one table isn't sufficient however, there is another table a scant six feet away at which the person at table A, must personally walk your documents over (presumable to prevent tampering during the long journey) to the person at table B, and they must be re-validated.

At this juncture we realize that we have accidentally left the checkbook at home and are cashless. This is bad for us as there is a sign written in bright green marker stating: "No Credit or Debit Cards, Cash or Check Only", interestingly there are indeed several of these, some of which also claim: "Please put your DL# and Ph# on your check", which is simply silly I think - I don't have a "DL#" until such time that you give me one now do I? This seems like an almost amazing transaction - and I will in fact participate in it a short time later as you will learn.

We leave the NJMVC, or DMV (whatever they are being called) and head for home. Fortunately for us it turns out that while there are a few of these places around, some more convenient for some than others this place is only a few miles away. So we go home, grab the checkbook and titles for the cars and head back.

We enter the door and are shuttled again to table A for validation of our "Papers". Table A gives us a clean slate, and moves us to table B. The new person at table B is puzzled that in fact the "Papers" seem to have the marks of a former occupant of her position. She inquires to this and the person from table A, fortunately, explains the checkbook scenario of 10 short minutes ago and we are allowed to pass to the next helpful person in the process.

We are now entering the photo taking stage of the adventure. The person behind the counter in line 5 (somehow lines have numbers whereas tables have letters) takes all of our information and reviews it a third time, not only to ensure that the first two have made their marks on our documents, but also to peruse the original papers (for what I have no idea but she does it). She clickity clacks on the keyboard and tells me to step back for my picture. I do so, noting that my shirt is a very similar blue to the background and I am likely to not have a torso. She fixes this problem by zooming in on my head. Giving me a DL-photo not remarkably different from a casaba melon. My wife gets her turn and has a photo more like one would expect, a bust shot, approximately 6-8 inches of shoulders and neck, and her face.

We pay our fee for our permit which permits us to walk to the other side of the office and stand in line for our test. We then proceed to get an eye test, what this test tells them about my ability to see road-hazards, cars, lights, people, dogs and wayward baby carriages I don't know. I pronounce a series of visible letter and am pronounced good-to-go. My wife actually had trouble with the eye test, but eventually passed and moved on.

After passing the ever difficult eye test we moved back to the permit location, only this time we were about to be officially licensed. We once again handed our paperwork back to the permit lady and she took the information, validated the information was correct, asked us if we were OK with our pictures (I decided even though I wasn't I would simply live with it), who really cares what they look like on a DL-photo anyway.

We now get to the fun part of taking numbers from someone, scribing them onto a piece of paper (in the form of a check) and handing them back to the person from whence they came. The young lady behind the counter handed us papers with our driver's license numbers on them, we then copied them onto our checks, as the sign said: "Please place DL# on your check", we then handed the check back to the lady behind the counter. I just couldn't shake the sense that this particular action was exceedingly odd. I couldn't tell if it was meant to be a reading test, to prove that I could read the numbers they had given me or what. This is very similar to Mr. Hayden's phrase about reading something somewhere: "I wrote it down, then I read it". I just kept thinking I've come with 6-points worth of identification (whatever it is that means exactly), and the item they want me to present to them is the number they are just gave me. Fortunately, except for now as I type this I mostly stopped thinking about it, mostly to save myself a headache.

Now we move on to the registration portion of the festivities. This is tedious but rather uneventful. The lady at line 3 I think it was takes several documents from us, plus some documents from her dear friend in line number 5, processes several more documents. Creates a few more, grabs some license plates, folds some of our documents , places them all in plastic bags, and once again asks for a check with the numbers that the lady from line 5 gave to me written on it somewhere.

We leave approximately one hour later, somehow unbloodied yet strangely changed for our encounter.