I've lived in the state of Maryland my whole life. I've always found it amusing how they say 'Virginia is for Lovers' while Maryland is 'for Crabs.' Think about that for a moment. Variously known as 'the Old-Line' state, and 'America in Miniature' we have it all.
Beautiful scenery (bullshit), unspoiled beaches (bullshit unless you drive a lowered import and are 17, horny and drunk and enjoy having 58,000 people packed into your immediate vicinity.) These, along with a rich history are things people cite as reasons to come see our fine state.
I've got another. Come visit our Motor Vehicle Administration. Why? Well, it's a fine opportunity to see what customer service, friendliness, prompt response times and attention to detail are all about. Of course, I'm full of shit, just like the aforementioned MVA.
Due to circumstances beyond my control, I went from ambivalence about today's visit there to anger, to frothing at the mouth raging hatred, all in about ten minutes. I walked in on good terms with them. Within ten minutes, I owed them 1,410 dollars. Ten minutes after that, I attempt to make arrangements to pay off this bullshit amount, and am greeted with a nuclear fucking bomb of joy. The MVA's collections department (which contains the most unfriendly fat-ass bitch of an employee who is not really an employee) was a royal treat. I walk up to the window with the wife and kids in tow, and realize that I had forgotten my wallet, so I had no ID. Kelly walks up to take care of the matter, and the fat bitch in the office, henceforth to be called the UFB (Unhelpful Fat Bitch) began to speak to Kelly very, VERY softly while seated in her chair some 8 feet from the Dutch door.
She begins with 'I am not the MVA.' That's a direct quote. She punches several things into a computer and then drops a fucking nuke on us. 'Ma'am, I see here that you currently owe XYZ amount to the University of Maryland. That amount needs to be paid..' as she rambles on, my brain starts to reel. The only thing I can think of is 'What the mother of all things fuck does this have to do with why we're here?' So, she then proceeds to inform us that this department is some sort of state-contracted collections agency. One with incorrect information on their computer, as my wife had signed up for, but dropped the classes in question when she became pregnant with our daughter. She talked in an extremely disinterested and quiet tone, and Kelly asked her several times to either speak louder or repeat herself as we couldn't hear her. Basically due to her lack of volume and the fact she was...8 feet away looking away. I was getting extremely pissed off at this point. I came to take care of one thing, and everything was going completely wrong right in front of my face.
She then demanded a sum of money which reeked of extortion to start this 'payment plan' to repay a debt owed over a bullshit charge which I don't even recognize as legitimate. I simply don't carry that much in cash, nor do I let it sit in my bank account on a regular basis.
The UFB then tells us that both of our cars tags are now suspended and the po-po will pull us over, take our tags, impound our car, demand full payment of the BS fees, and probably steal our children while sodomzing us and whistling fucking Dixie.
My jaw hit the floor as I fought off the urge to reach over the counter and throttle UFB for everything I'm worth. I wanted nothing more than to see her eyeballs rocket out of her head and slide down the opposing wall while I squeezed her like a fucking toy.
This is pretty much par for the course when dealing with the MVA. I've found that almost everyone there leaves with the distinct feeling that the visit would have gone better if there was a body count in their wake.
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