In New York, when getting a driver’s license or ID card, there is a point system. Various forms of ID have different point values, and you need five points worth of ID to prove that you are you. 

This is a story from 2013. An out-of-state driver’s license is worth all the points you need, but an out-of-state ID card is only worth one point. My wife and I moved to New York and needed new driver’s licenses. I had an out-of-state license, but my wife only had an ID card as she had stopped driving before we moved. So, I was good, but my wife was not.

We came prepared with her birth certificate, her out-of-state ID card, her passport, and several other forms of ID. Unfortunately, the passport was expired, so that didn’t count. We got to four points.

Clerk: *To my wife* “Do you have a loyalty card from [Local Supermarket]?”

Wife: “My husband does, but I don’t.”

Clerk: “Go down there and get one.”

We went to the supermarket, and my wife qualified for the loyalty card by showing her out-of-state ID card. We returned to DMV with the newly-issued loyalty card, bearing no name, address, etc., only her freshly-signed signature. They accepted it, issuing her an ID card. 

Seems pretty circular to me.

When I am getting my driver’s license in 2010, I witness this conversation while waiting for my turn to take my test.

The Wahiawa Police Station functions as a DMV and a satellite city hall, as is common in Hawaii. There are about forty-five or fifty people sitting in an open outdoor seating area relaxing in the crispy December air.

One of the instructors walks out with a clipboard.

Driving Instructor: “[Man]? I’m looking for [Man]!”

An individual runs over happily.

Driving Instructor: “All right, I need your paperwork.”

The man hands over multiple papers — a few more than normal. As the conversation between them progresses, it becomes clear that this man is from out of the country and has just moved to America. He is in the process of getting situated, and evidently, the license he has from back home is not recognized in the US.

Driving Instructor: “Okay, this all looks good. Now, where is your licensed driver?”

Man: “I drive here.”

Driving Instructor: “Okay, but where is the licensed driver that came with you?”

Man: “No, no, I drive here.”

Driving Instructor: “You drove here by yourself?”

Man: “Yes, I drive here. Car is in the back row; we can use. Toyota Camry, very good car. Very cheap, very few problems.”

Driving Instructor: “Oh, God…”

Man: “You don’t like Toyota? Very good car, very few problems to fix. 1995, only 22,000 miles.”

Driving Instructor: “No, sir, this.” *Holds up the man’s permit* “This is a permit. You can’t drive without a licensed driver with you in the car.”

Man: “I am licensed; I have this.” *Points at the permit* 

Driving Instructor: “No, this, you… Did no one… Who did you talk to when you were here getting this card?”

Man: “No, no talk, just paper and test. Take test, turn in to lady with yellow hair. She take picture, say congratulations.”

Driving Instructor: “No one explained what this card is?”

Man: “Limited driver’s license. Can only have one passenger?”

Driving Instructor: “No, that’s a provisional lic… You know what? Come with me. We’re going to go yell at someone.”

Man: “Do we still do test?”

Driving Instructor: “If you find a licensed driver willing to sign for you, then yes, we will take the road test.”

Man: “Yes! Yes! Yes!”

The man separates from the driving instructor and approaches a large Samoan man who is taller than the ATM he is standing next to.

Man: “Friend! You sign paper so I can take license test, yes?”

As he finishes his sentence, he produces $200 from his pocket and holds it out to the guy.

ATM Guy: “…Yeah, he’s with me, boss!”

Driving Instructor: “Excellent, sign these while I go inside and talk to [Employee].” 

The man passed his driving test and drove off in a very nice blue ’95 Toyota.

Not too long ago, my wife thought she’d lost her driver’s license while visiting friends. We searched and searched with no luck, so we decided to visit the state’s driver’s license site to find out what we needed to do to get a replacement.

The instructions were to log onto the site or visit a local office, provide the driver’s license number and the accounting code on the license…

…and bring two forms of picture ID, including the driver’s license.

Fortunately, we found the license, so there was no need to get a replacement (as if we could, given those requirements).

This actually happened to a fellow homeschooling buddy of mine. She took her son for his driver’s license. Everything was good until they checked out the new license. It had her son’s middle name spelled wrong. Let’s say his middle name is Matthew and his family spells it Maphew. They immediately went back to the counter 

Mom: “Excuse me, but my son’s name is misspelled.”

Employee: “No, it’s not.”

Mom: “Ummm, yes, it is. We should know.”

Employee: “No, you spelled it wrong. I fixed it.”

Mom: “Ma’am. It’s clearly spelled on his birth certificate, Social Security card, and all the legal documentation that was handed to you. Are you saying it’s spelled wrong on all of that?”

Employee: “Yes. It is spelled wrong.”

Mom: “No, it’s not, and I dont think you have the right to make that call. Please change it.”

Employee: “I dont see what the big deal is.”

Mom: “Well, for one, he is about to take the SAT, and it’s been made clear that the name must match the official ID used, especially for homeschoolers. Second, of course, that doesn’t really matter; it is his name, and he has a right to have it spelled correctly.”

Employee: “Ugh, stupid homeschoolers. It’s not my fault you dont even know how to spell your own name. Maybe you should get a real education.”

Mom: “My son came in second at the state spelling bee, so I think he has spelling down pat. Also, what you said is as offensive and unfounded, as if I made a comment about how kids who go to public schools can’t get a decent education. Get me your supervisor, NOW!”

She stomped off and a manager came out. When my friend explained what had happened, he was speechless. He apologized and immediately made a new license with the correct spelling of the young man’s name. My friend went to file a formal complaint a few days after she cooled down, and she was informed that woman was no longer employed there.

I grew up in Virginia and moved to Iowa, and at one point, my husband and I moved back briefly to help my parents out. However, other life issues came up, and my husband and I had to move back to Iowa.

Several years after we moved back, we try to change insurance companies, and I find out that my license is invalid. My husband and I go to the DMV on my lunch break from work to find out what’s happening, and we proceed to go through the most ridiculous DMV trip I’ve ever had.

Clerk: “I see here that you have a Virginia license. Where is it?”

Me: “I did have one, but then I moved back and got an Iowa license. At the time, they said that they reinstated my old license since it had been so little time in between. I don’t have the Virginia license.”

Clerk: “Yes, but then you went and got a Virginia license. We need that one.”

Me: “I told you, I moved back from Virginia and got an Iowa license again.”

Clerk: “But you lived in Virginia?”

Me: “Yes. But then I moved back.”

The clerk speaks very slowly, as though I’m stupid.

Clerk: “But then you went to Virginia.”

Me: *Getting frustrated* “Look, I lived in Virginia. I moved here to Iowa and had an Iowa license. I moved back to Virginia briefly and had a Virginia license, but then I had to move back to Iowa. I then got an Iowa license again.”

Clerk: “But then you got a Virginia license.”

I’m seriously confused at this point.

Me: “When?”

Clerk: “About two weeks after you came here for an Iowa license.”

Me: “So, you’re saying that the system shows that two weeks after I got an Iowa license, I just went back to Virginia and got a Virginia license, and then… came right back?”

Clerk: “Yes, that’s what it shows! And now we need your Virginia license.”

I suddenly remember something.

Me: “Hold up. That’s around the time I got pulled over and the officer said something was wrong with my license. I called the DMV here and they told me that they saw nothing wrong. So, if what you’re saying is true, why did they tell me there was nothing wrong with my license?”

Clerk: “Well, I don’t know that, but all I know is that you had a Virginia license.”

Me: “Look, something must have gone wrong in your system. Can you double-check? This makes no sense.”

Clerk: “I can, but it’s not going to show anything.”

We proceed to wait fifteen minutes until a tech comes up, looks at something for a couple of minutes, and then leaves. The clerk calls us back up with a smug look.

Clerk: “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with our system. You went to Virginia and got a Virginia license.”

At this point, I can see there’s no arguing with her, and I figure that however much it makes no sense that I would go to another state, get a license there, and promptly come back, she can’t take my word for it.

Me: “So, what do I need to do to get a new license?”

The clerk looks at me with the smuggest expression I have yet seen on her face.

Clerk: “You need to turn in your Virginia license.”

Me: “I JUST TOLD YOU I DON’T HAVE— You know what? Never mind. Since I don’t have the license you say I should have, what do I need to do?”

Clerk: *Still smug* “You need all these identifying documents, and you need to pay the full fee for a new license since you don’t have your old one.”

Me: “Fine.”

My husband and I drive the half-hour back to our house, gather up all the documents, and then return, both fuming. When we return, we get a different clerk, although the first clerk is hovering nearby.

Clerk #2: “Oh, don’t worry about the fee! It’s clear you had an Iowa license before, so you can just pay the renewal fee.”

While I’m finishing up my paperwork, my husband is writing furiously on a comment card. The first clerk walks up to him.

Clerk: *In a sweet voice* “Was there anything I could help you with, sir?”

Husband: “NO.”

The clerk scurries away and vanishes into the back room. By this point, I’ve finished my paperwork and have had my picture taken, and my temporary license is finally in my hand.

Husband: “You look like you’re going commit murder in your picture.”

Me: “I contemplated it.”

And that’s how a visit to the DMV during a non-busy time turned into three hours away from work and me having a driver’s license picture that has been described as “an angry serial killer”. As for the clerk? I have yet to return to that DMV, so as far as I know, she’s still tormenting customers to this day.