Our “What Aggravates Me” Saturday Feature from Comedian, John Knight

If you read my last column you’re aware that I had a birthday the past week. It turns out it was also the year that my driver’s license expires and I waited until the last day possible. I entered the Penn Dot Driver’s License Center around noon on Tuesday. You know Penn Dot, the hard working road crews that can haul ass and turn a proposed six month project into a year and a half.

As I entered I grabbed my number A237 and looked for a chair. None were open and my hopes of getting in and out were dashed when I heard the announcement.

“Now serving A210.”

That meant there were still 27 people ahead of me. A seat opened up and I grabbed it. I was going to be here a while. I looked around and saw the looks of dread and despair on the other faces. What had I gotten myself into?

There were three people working the photo center, two elderly women and a handicapped black man in a wheelchair.

“Now serving A211.”

Twenty six more ahead of me now. I looked up at the clock, it was now ten after twelve.

“I should be out of here by one.”

I thought to myself. My wife keeps telling me to think more positive and I’m giving it my best shot.

I notice the older woman on the left is calling names. She’s taking people with appointments which only leaves two employees to serve the rest of us.

“Okay, maybe one fifteen.”

I begin to think my wife is full of crap and it’s better to expect the worst. You have less disappointment that way.

“Now serving A212.”

I realize that since I’d been sitting there, the only line moving was the handicapped guy. The two older ladies were carrying on a conversation. I guess they figure they have to be there for eight hours, why shouldn’t the rest of us.

As I glance up I see an old woman using a walker approaching the service counter. Another woman, I’m guessing is her daughter is helping her. There are a few questions to answer before they take your picture. I can see the elderly woman is confused by all of this. They get through the questions and then explain she will need to sign her name. Everything takes forever with this lady. She doesn’t seem to know what’s going on. They had to tell her three times she was finished and could leave and it didn’t get through. Her daughter finally helped her away as I grew more agitated.

Now, before anybody starts telling me I’m a bad person and should have more compassion for the elderly, remember where I am. This woman just signed on for four more years of operating a motor vehicle! See how compassionate you are when she plows into your new car because she didn’t realize she was driving.

“Now serving A217.”

It’s now almost one and all hope is gone.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. An old man, who probably once voted for Lincoln, walking toward the counter. The only way he could have walked any slower was to go backward. He also had somebody along to help.

“Would you like to be an organ donor?”

Are you kidding me? The shelf life on this guy’s organs passed their expiration date a long time ago! Who would want them?

“Hey we have a liver available that might have five minutes left on it.”

I begin to think that even if I ever do get out of here, with my luck this guy will be driving the car in front of me.

I don’t want to go into all the details of shift changes, breaks, equipment failures and other frustrations I faced that day. It was ten after two when it finally happened.

“Now serving A237.”

My afternoon of agony was finally coming to an end. As I sat ready to be photographed the woman actually said,

“You can smile.”

“Any feeling of joy I may have had when I entered, left me a long time ago.”

“Ok, look at the blue light.”

Now I don’t know what hell is actually like. What I do know is that upon entering you will have to take a number.


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