Andy descended into hell today, otherwise known as the Roslindale branch of the Registry of Motor Vehicles:
... There were at least 100 people waiting. My number in line was just short of "never gonna happen today buster!" Nonetheless I had to get this straightened up so I wait. And waited. Then I waited a bit more. Let me further paint the picture. 100 of my not closest friends on a 70 plus degree day with no air conditioning, little or no breeze, and even less patience. ...
Wants to hire armed guards for all branches, following incident involving guy without proof of residency threatening to shoot up the Beverly registry because workers wouldn't give him a state ID. Unlike at the turnpike authority, there are no plans to provide weapons to rank-and-file employees, Registrar Anne L. Collins said.
Around Natick considers the possibility of the Registry moving into the old National Guard land on Speen Street near Rte. 135.
Eeka figures out how to save $29 every 11 years on her annual car inspections.
Four times now, Josh Ourisman has tried to swap his California license for a Massachusetts license. Four times now, the Registry of Motor Vehicles has found a way to screw it up. Yesterday, for the second time in a row, he was nearing the front of the line at the Chinatown RMV when their computer system went down:
By most accounts, he did as good a job at the Registry as he isn't doing at the T. Josh Ourisman reports on how things have fallen apart since Grabauskas left the RMV:
Took the Orange Line to Chinatown this morning to renew my license. Adding value to my CharlieCard was a snap, there weren't any crazy people (or fetid pools of vomit) on the train, the Registry people were pleasant and I was probably in and out in 20 minutes.
I know: Shocking!
Gienna reports the Beverly RMV may be all gussied up these days, but it's still staffed by grumpy coots:
... "B192 at window 2," the automated voice purrs over the loudspeaker. For a moment, it seems almost utopian. Everybody looks at their ticket and sighs.
"B-192!" the registry lady screams from behind her windowless counter. "B-192!" And a young woman re-checks her ticket, realizes that is her number, leaps from her seat and hustles over to window 2.
"Jesus Christ," the registry lady says. "What are you, deaf?" ...
When Krissy tries to get her license transferred from California to Massachusetts, she goes down to the Watertown Registry and is told, after an hour's wait, that a bank statement would do for proof of residency. So she gets a bank statement and returns, only to be rejected because the clerk doesn't think the statement looks "official" enough:
... "This is what they send me!" I exclaimed. I was sent to talk to a manager.
"This doesn't count as proof of residency," he said.
After being forced to "Don't Go Breakin' My Heart" over and over while on hold with the Registry, Lisa says she's had it:
... I deplore our deep-blue state's baffling tendency to elect Republican governors, but, as my mother says, even a broken clock tells the right time twice a day. In this vein I remember fondly Governor Weld's serious proposal to abolish the Registry altogether. Sweep away its fees for the sake of its own existence, its crabbed Dickensian villages posing as outposts of state bureaucracy. It would be a blow for human freedom. ...
The Roslindale RMV is the sort of place you'd expect to see in "Beetlejuice" - you take a number and then you sit on old wooden benches as you wait for a clerk in a basement office that looks like it was last remodeled in 1949 (complete with steam radiators mounted up near the ceiling).
So as I'm waiting for my number to be called to renew my registration today (yes, of course I waited until the last minute), all of a sudden one of the clerk's voices rises above the general din:
You're supposed to be deceased, so you need to go to 1 Copley Place, Special Investigations.
Help keep Universal Hub going. If you like what we're up to and want to help out, please consider a (completely non-deductible) contribution.
