WTF - What the Friday - Have you been to the Tag Office?

Have you been to the Tag Office lately?  No? I go to the Tag office over in Rural Hall in expectation that since it is in the middle of nowhere I'll be in and out pretty quickly, right?

Nope.

"Honey, the line starts there," a large woman says as I try to peer inside the door and see if it snakes around 1346 times before we even get in.  Someone at the DMV has taken a cue from Disney - hey, there's only three people outside the door, you commit to the line, get excited when you are finally through the door then find...
another line of 75 people snaking INSIDE the building.

So, I stand in the line looking around, realizing:

I only see people like this at Walmart.

What is that smell?

Oh wait, I've seen these people at the Dixie Classic Fair too.

God, I hate droplets of sweat running down my back and in between, well, there.....

Man, what an awful smell.

I finally make it to the front of the line, present my information with a smile, "I'm here to renew my tag!"

She looks at a computer for a few minutes, looks up at me, "There's a tax block on your car."

"A what?"

"A tax block."

"But I paid the taxes on it, here's the receipt."

"You'll have to call them with this confirmation number to remove the block before we can issue your tags.  Here's the number.  Once it is off, come back in, stand by the line and I'll take care of you."

I open my phone, she adds, "You have to make phone calls outside, NEXT IN LINE!"

I walk back out to 92 degree weather and start dialing the number.

"Jerome, you have to be down here to sign the title.  I can't transfer the car without you," I very loud voice is yelling into her phone.  "I waited in line in that hell hole for an hour, now get in your car and get your ass down here NOW!"

I almost want to tell her, "I know how you feel," but the sweat is now running down my back again so I dial the number.

"Winston Salem Tax Office, how can I help you?"

"I need to remove a tax block from my car to get my tags."

"Account number?"

"I read it off."

"You haven't paid your taxes," she says.

"What, I have this confirmation number," I repeat it again.  My hair is plastered to my neck, Leticia is yelling into her phone, "I don't care that you already took your lunch break, tell you boss that I am waiting at the DMV and need you here to sign the title NOW!"

There is silence on the other line, "Yes, you paid your taxes, but you still owe 2.27."

"What?"

"By the time you mailed your check, interest occurred, you owe 2.27."

"Can I pay you?"

"No, you can drive downtown to Chestnut street government building to pay."

"For 2.27?  There isn't another way?"

"You can pay over the phone with this number."

"Great, I'll call and pay, can you remove the block."

"No, then you can to call us back with the new confirmation number and we will remove the block."

"Really?  OK then"

As I dial the new number, Leticia is talking to herself about the stupidity of her brother and how she is the one that is always getting screwed.  I get so caught up in her conversation with herself that I must have pushed something wrong because the WS Tax Office Phone Hotline is now speaking to me in Spanish.  I hang up and call again.

"There will be a 5.99 charge for over the phone payments."

My butt cheeks are hurting at this point, but I punch in the numbers and pay my 2.27, I mean 8.26.

I call back to the Tax office and am informed that my hold time is 15 minutes but a very cheerful computer generated voice.  Leticia is deciding that she's going to McDonalds to wait for her brother, rather than sit in this African Heat because knowing him he's going to be late.

I finally get someone, give them the confirmation and am good to go.  I go back into DMV land, go and stand at the front waiting for the person ahead of me to finish, my dress is soaked with sweat, my hair looks wet and I'm irritated.

"Isn't is nice that some people think they don't have to wait in line."

"Really, should we tell her that the line starts outside?"

"No, we'll do the noble thing, just let her jump in line."

I turn to the two little old ladies behind me and say, "Listen bitches..."

OK, I didn't say that, I DID say, "Hey, I already waited in this line.  SHE," I point to DMV lady number 1, "told me I didn't have to wait again.  Be glad I am only renewing my tags, I'm in and out in a few minutes."

The both turn red, look at each other then look at the floor.  I wait a few more minutes wondering, "what is that SMELL?" I finally get my tags and hop skip and jump out the door.

Of course, when I get home, guess what's waiting in my mailbox.

Yep, a Forsyth County Tax Bill for

you got it

2.27

Ever had that much fun in your life?