Ministry of Walking Around

In the Harry Potter books there is something called the “Ministry of Magic” which is a huge, complicated, and most of all, inefficient bureaucracy designed to keep Muggles (you and me) from discovering the culture of Magical Creatures.

I thought of them today when I made my annual trip to the Secretary of State’s office to renew the licence plates for the hearses and flower car.

I have to go in person because the cars are “commercial vehicles” and I have to prove that they are insured by bringing in my “Certificates of Insurance.”

Why this all can’t be done on-line or even by mail escapes me but it is not only a part of our state’s bureaucracy which makes it an epitome of inefficiency.

All of these really happened on this week's visit.

The first thing one sees that there are countless lines all leading to individuals who have one thing and only one thing to do.

The first people you are greeted by (and I use that world loosely) tell you which department you were you are supposed to go depending on the kind of paperwork you have.  Whatever you present is stared at as if were written in hieroglyphics.

My “greeter” stared at my papers and said, (I am not making this up!) “You need to go back out the entrance and come in the exit.”  I wasn’t even phased because once you have entered the Secretary of State’s office it is important to realize that you have entered a magical place where entrances are exits and exits are entrances.

Out I went and in I came.

Fearing that I was going to be yelled at I sheepishly entered the exit door and was greeted by a Secretary of State security guard in a brown outfit.  I was sure he was going to ask about my relatives in Germany but instead he told me to stand in a line against the wall and wait. 

“Wait for what?” I wondered.  “For the firing squad to load their rifles?”

As I awaited my fate I noticed that there were innumerable people wearing official looking badges just walking around.  All of them had very intent looks upon their faces as if they were heading off to a national security briefing.  The room must have been changed or the meeting cancelled because it wouldn’t be long before I saw the very same people heading in the opposite direction. 

As luck would have it the chief minister in charge of walking around was working in my department but it was hard to tell because when I first lined up he received a phone call.  It was for Delores (Umbridge?) who suddenly became the most important person in the world to this man.

Instead of taking a message he decided to mount a personal search for her. It wasn’t an all out search because it seemed to be limited to a fifteen foot range in front of his door.  It consisted mostly of him looking around and asking others who were walking around if they had seen Delores.  None had.

Finally I was beckoned into the office with a wave of the hand by his colleague.  She was exceedingly friendly.  Her first warm, welcoming words were, “You need to make a copy of your certificate for each vehicle.” 

“Sorry,” I said, “I didn’t know.”

“How could you not know?” she snapped. “I’ll make copies for you this time but never again.  Remember?”  At this she disappeared.

The head of walking around reappeared still searching for Delores.

Finally, an even more angry woman than the usual Secretary of State employee said she had seen her.  Delores and her friends had been on break for almost an hour. 

I looked at the clock. It was nearing 11 A.M. The place opened at 8:30  A.M. It seemed like a good deal - work 90 minutes and take 60 minutes off.

The chief minister who had done nothing but search for Delores for the last 20 minutes seemed enraged.  “How did she think she would get away with this?” he said stupefied.

“She may think I’m a bitch but I told her to get back to work.”  Novel idea!

The man returned to his desk and a stack of papers that were at least 10 inches high.

“These are all forms from last week.  We are so backed up with work...” he said to me with his voice trailing off.

Perhaps, I thought, had you spent any of the time spent working instead of searching for someone who had been on break for the last hour the stack of forms would be considerably smaller.

The man had a very short attention span because (And again, I am not making this up!) he did whatever he was supposed to do on one form and was up again to do some more walking around.  Somebody buy this man a Fitbit®!

He left and the woman who had apparently gone to Roanoke office to make the copies reappeared. 

While talking to herself she highlighted a certain line on each application, copied each licence plate number by hand onto yet another form, and s-l-o-w-l-y but very neatly stapled them together. 
She then sent me to the cashier with the admonition. “Next year remember to make your own copies.”

Two observations:

First, when I entereded through the exit door it was 2017. I could order anything I wanted over the internet but I had to see at least a-half-a-dozen people to renew my licence plates.  Certainly this all could be done by computer but where would state employees get their exercise?

Second, people actually write about complaints about these employees on Yelp.  Do they really think that is going to change anything?  The Secretary of State’s office has been like that forever. The only thing that changes is the portraits of the office holder that are hung almost everywhere you look.  It makes the place look like the Kremlin!

You can Yelp all you want but with government employees there is no incentives to give great service.  Who wants the job?

I can say without fear of contradiction that no six year old in the history of time has ever awakened in the morning and said, “You know what I want to do with my life? I want to work for the Secretary of State’s office in the drivers licence division!”

Then the child runs down to tell his or her parents of their life’s calling and the parents cry their eyes out.