1/22/08

Do as I say, not as I do. We've all heard that one before. I do sincerely hope that the people who read this blog keep the concept in mind.

I say that you should read the manual before you take the hazmat test. What I do... or did... well it didn't involve reading the manual. I thought for sure I could use a little common sense and bullshit my way through it. It took two tries, but I got 'er done. After I got seven wrong the first time, I committed those seven questions to memory. Surely I could remember to adjust the answers and improve my score. Of course none of those questions appeared on the second test. Nice. So much for that idea. I actually had to feel my way through a whole new set of questions about things I've never seen. So it came down to questions 29 and 30. I could afford to miss one. Question 29 - some shit about radioactive stuff - 5, 10, or 50. It really doesn't matter what the question was, since I didn't have any idea what they were talking about anyway. I picked 10. Sounds like a nice metric sort of number, doesn't it? The answer was 50. Shit. So I had to get question 30 correct or I would have to take the test a third time. I don't even know if they allow you to take the test a third time, but it didn't matter. I got the question right. So I have the 'H' on my license now.

I think I need to be more bitter. Every day - online, at work, at home, wherever - I see so much bitterness that I just feel like I'm missing out on something. I have a bit of a hot temper sometimes, but the lingering bitching and whining... I just don't have what it takes to give a shit. I need to fix that. What am I babbling about? Oh, some of you guys are from Michigan. You'll nod your heads and say "yep" when this story is done.

I rolled down to Brownstown to visit the Secretary of State this morning. After the MLK Day thing yesterday, the place was predictably pretty busy. "Now serving" 39. I had number 82. Okay, we'll play some Tetris and it will be cool. A half hour later, no change. A half hour after that, still on #39. The bitching was intense, to say the least. Whatever man, I had nowhere to go today. I kept watching people leave and figured I was getting closer to the front of the line in the process. After I was there for a couple of hours, we the patrons were informed that the branch was being closed on account of a mysterious odor that had made the employees sick. We were given pink pieces of paper that would let us skip the line at a different branch.

So, up the road in Taylor, I stepped into the first line. The Taylor branch is set up so that the line along the front of the building is sort of an 'expediter' line. You get to the front very quickly, the lady gives you whatever forms you may need, you take a number, and then you wait. Ostensibly this cuts down on the time taken by waiting first, then starting on the forms. Makes sense to me. Once at the front of the line, the lady spotted my pink paper. "Sir, if you have the return pass, you go to that line over there." She directed me to the back of a line of about five people. I tried to explain that the pink pass didn't signify much and that I hadn't gotten started yet. "That line over there sir." Can we just pretend I don't have the pink pass then? I'm already at the front of this line. "Next."

So, after I stood in my new line for a little while, a guy asked me what I needed. I needed to take the hazmat test and add the endorsement. He gave me the forms that the first bitch... I mean lady... should have been able to give me. Then the testing scenario unfolded. Second time around, good to go, back to the guy's workstation. "That will be sixty dollars." Fuck me! Sixty bucks to add a hazmat endorsement that I don't even plan to use? This blows. I asked him if I had to pay an extra sixty dollars every year. "That's the current cost to renew with the endorsements you have." Yeah, but I'm not renewing anything. My license is good until a year from September. "Oh you were just adding hazmat? She should have given you a different form." She didn't give me any forms, dude. You did. So I filled out some other shit, he screwed around with the computer, I paid $23 (not $60), and now I'm certified. And, as the residents of my fair state nod their heads in sympathy, that was my four hour stint at the Secretary of State today. More technology, more internet shit, better processes, and things still manage to stay the same.

Oh yeah, the bitterness... As the day unfolded, I had a dumbass grin on my face like I was certain that someone was watching us on Candid Camera. The usual mass bitch-fest was unfolding right before my eyes and it was right on script. There was the central "bitch to anyone who will listen" ringleader. Then there was the "I'm gonna show them how pissed I am" loudmouth. Then the more cerebral "I'll call the 800 number" associate. And so on and so forth, right down the line. Every character was present and they stayed right on message. They were all so miserable. I wanted to be bitter. I wanted to be a part of this collective misery society. Why should I always have to be an outsider? But I just thought they were hilarious, the whole lot of them. I made the occasional smartass remark, as I tend to do. Obviously you wouldn't be able to know this, but in my own mind I'm pretty funny. My own mind isn't always on the same page as the commonly accepted reality though. Rather than amuse my neighbors, I generally just pissed them off even more. Yet my own bitterness level remained negligible. I never get to have any fun.

I was thinking about going to work in the morning, but nah. I'm taking tomorrow off. I don't feel like getting in my truck just yet.