drivers license

As she headed down the street she was thankful that renewing ones drivers license only comes once every five years. She confidently enter the parking lot and began scanning the buildings for the right one. Finally she find it and pull into a parking place not far from the front door. She quickly strode into the building and stopped. It didn't quite look right but she was not to be deterred. However, approaching the counter and asking to get her drivers license renewed only produced being told that she was in the wrong place and having her mind befuddled with a far too complex description of how to get to the proper building. Hopping back into the car, she pulled out of the parking lot much less confidently that she had pulled in. Thankful that there was not a drive test on being directionally challenged she drove down the street a few yards bringing her to the right place and again she got out of the car and entered, what this time was labeled as-"driving license."

On entering the double doors she was confronted with a machine with the instructions “take only one.” This would have been a simple command to follow, expect for the fact that she didn't know which one to take from. There were several different descriptions for different needs such as “change of name” “replace lost license” and several others. Still, it doesn't sound like such a hard choice, however, she needed to both renew her license and get the address changed. As she stood dumbly staring at the machine two men walked up behind her and very politely waited for her to pick a button and take a ticket from the machine. Finally one of them made a noise and she motioned for them to go ahead of her. After they had picked their numbers she decided to take the one that said “renew license.” Sitting down she found it hard to concentrate on her book and on making sure her number didn't get skipped. Soon it was her turn and she walked up to the counter where she handed in her license which she had, for nearly five years been sure to take with her every where, only to have a large hole stamped right through it. Then she was asked the question “Do you want organ donater put on your license?” Hardly recovering from the sudden and appalling image of having her organs taken out and put into another body she asked in a shocked tone “they put that on the license?”

Soon she was having her picture taken by a friendly lady with a heavy accent and was handed her flimsy piece of paper with a picture that looked like a ghost of her actual appearance, or what she hoped was only a ghost of her actual appearance. Briskly she walked out the door and the short adventure of the licensing office was finished...at least for another few years.