Now Serving 204

The DMV, Friendly Wagers, and Letting Go

“Now Serving Number 173.”

Harold said dammit, more of a sneeze through his teeth than a word.

He couldn’t tell if the female voice was a recording of a human voice or a computer, but either way the faux pleasantness of the voice irked him. The voice sounded like someone was getting called into a massage and not paying a few hundred to renew their license tabs on a Mercury with bum ball joints.

Of course, if the number texted to him by the DMV had been number 173, or even 174 or 175, he would have been a lot less irked. But it was not. It was 204.

It had been easily three minutes since the last computer (or recorded? That was gonna bug him) voice had called 172.

Harold did the math.

He had plenty of time to grab a beer down the street, maybe a burger.

Zipping his coat, he headed for the exit, thinking he had seen a promising joint to the west.

More people were filing into the DMV. He wanted to tell them not to bother.

On a corkboard near the door were posters for disability assistance and for bundling your car and boat insurance.

Who in this neighborhood can afford a boat?