deliver us from the bureaucracy

I went to the local DMV (in Oklahoma it's called a tag agent) to renew the tags on my truck. While I was there I checked my driver's license and discovered it was expired. I was five days past the grace period. When I told the agent she informed me that I would have to show a certified copy of my birth certificate in order to renew. This is a small town. She knows me by sight. Yet, I couldn't renew without proving my identity. That afternoon I returned with my birth certificate. No good. It has to be a certified copy. I explained that what I had was the original, not a copy. What I held in my hand got me enrolled in school, entered into military service, hired by every employer I had ever worked for, secured my civil service retirement, and got my social security checks started, and now it's no good for renewing my driver's license? That's right.

The next day I left early and made the 1-1/2 hour drive to Tulsa to get a certified copy. Although I was unable to renew my license with the original birth certificate, I easily obtained a certified copy of my birth certificate with my expired driver's license. The copy has a lot of features that the original was missing, such as numbers, bar codes and a watermark, things that are very important to a bureaucracy.

That afternoon I was back in the agent's office ready to renew. I sat in front of this computerized technical wonder that would electronically take my picture, signature, and finger prints, and then produce a new license. We started the process and then we had this conversation:

She said, "Uh, oh".
"What?", I replied.
"The computer compares the just taken photo with the one from your old license and it's saying 'identification failed' ". She turned her screen around so I could see it and both photos were identical. I hadn't changed in four years. I hadn't even lost any more hair. So she started the process over and had the same results. She called someone in Oklahoma City who could pull up the photos on her computer and authorize the resetting of the local computer in order to proceed with the issuing of the license. After conversing with the woman on the phone for a moment she turned to me and said,
"She said you have a nice beard".
"Tell her I said thank you", I replied.
"She said all the good ones live too far away or are taken," she informed me. My face began to feel warm. The other customers in the office laughed. Well, to make a long story short, I got my license.

I told my 21 year old grand daughter, Tara, the story about what the woman in Oklahoma City said. She said,"When grandma hears that there's going to be a smack down in Oklahoma City." But when Dorothy got home from work and I told her the same story, she just smiled, patted me on the back, and walked away.