Karen Elstrom goes to the DMV

Link to article: Karen Elstrom goes to the DMV.

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text=Everyone is looking at her now, in her three piece suit and expensive brown cardigan, roaring up here in a car more expensive than every other car here combined.
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Karen Elstrom goes to the --DMV-- MTO
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= …ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ
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Karen Elstrom speeds down the highway in her sleek black Tesla. She //definitely// bought this car before Musk went full mask off fascist. She //definitely did not// commit to a several thousand dollar purchase without even doing a cursory Google search of the company owner's political views! That would be absurd!

She made an appointment with the most middle of nowhere DMV a girl could find. Lowers the risk of being recognized to practically zero. I mean, who on earth would have the same idea to go to the same DMV on the same day as her?

The DMV is packed. Like //packed// for a DMV. She assumed a middle of nowhere DMV would be less packed than this. This definitely has to be more people than the population of this town. Good thing she had an appointment. She waltzes past the crowd towards the glass door between her and a renewed driver's license.

A man's hand shoots out to stop her, hovering suspiciously over her chest. "You've gotta take a number."

"But I've got an-" she bites her tongue. Everyone is looking at her now, in her three piece suit and expensive brown cardigan, roaring up here in a car more expensive than every other car here combined. //She will not be a bitch today. She will not be a bitch today.//

The number she receives is 47, which tells her very little about her position in line. She scans the waiting room, and spots one open seat. It's right next to a graying man who-

//Wait.//

That's Dr. Wettle!

She sits, and it takes him all of a minute and a half to notice her. "Woah! Hi, Karen!"

"Hi, Will." There are definitely worse people to be stuck in a DMV with. Wettle, who does not read any of the site memos, is one of the few people who doesn't immediately hold a grudge against her for doing her job. "What're you in for?"

"Getting my driver's license renewed. You?"

"Same." He pats the clipboard in his lap. It's one of those plastic clipboards that has a compartment inside. The clip part is missing; it's held closed by a rubber band. "I've got every possible paper they could ever ask for. Nothing's gonna sneak up on this guy!"

She double checks her manilla folder of paperwork, everything down to her birth certificate to her car insurance. The one thing she //did// forget is her phone, which is still in her car. She'd go get it, but she's already settled and she'd hate to have to stand if someone steals her seat.

"I'm hoping to get this picture fixed." Wettle shows his driver's license. He sneezed mid photo and they did not let him retake it.

//"Number thirteen?"// Calls a woman over the speaker.

Everyone shuffles to check their numbers, including Elstrom just out of habit. Still 47.

"Oh shit." Wettle pats himself down. Elstrom points to his front pocket, where lucky number thirteen is poking out. "Thanks!" He stands and immediately trips over some old woman's cane. His clipboard goes flying, flimsy rubber brand breaking, papers scattering everywhere.

"You watch it!" She barks, bringing the cane down to strike him in the shoulder.

"Sorry! Sorry!" He cries. In a rare act of collective human kindness, everyone picks up one of Wettle's papers and hands it back to him. He makes it through the glass door with seemingly everything together.

"Um?" A stranger holds up Wettle's driver's license. All eyes look to the door, waiting for the moment Wettle steps out, head hung low in shame, to pluck his ID out of their hands.

Thirteen, then fourteen, then into the twenties, and thirties, the forties... Then, an hour and a half of sitting there, an hour and a half after her appointment date, forty-seven is called.

The waiting room hasn't gotten any more empty. Still, Elstrom marches into the DMV office. She sits, one leg crossed over the over.

"What can I help you with?"

"I had an appointment to get my driver's license renewed."

"An appointment? For when?"

"For ten am."

"And when did you get here?"

"Well, nine-fifty. There was a line."

"You should've said something. We would've had you in at your appointment time!"

"Oh..." Elstrom makes a sour face, but quickly masks it.

She slides all of her documentation through the glass sperator. She looks off into the middle distance, always showing off her great side profile.

"Ma'am, your insurance is out of date."

"What!?"

The DMV woman slides the paper back towards her, tapping the expiration date with her pen. This time the sour look doesn't leave Elstrom's face.

"Let me check my car." She knows she has an updated version on her phone.

"Quickly, please." Says the DMV woman, not even looking up, as if Elstrom were some common bug.

Elstrom takes the walk of shame through the waiting room, back to her car, and returns with the last document. Finally, she walks out a free woman! Brand new driver's license in hand.

//Goodbye middle of fuck all! See you when this one expires!//

There's a familiar run down car in the parking lot. A familiar run down man helplessly turning his key with no luck. Elstrom can practically hear him whining in frustration. With a sigh, she walks over to him to knock on the window. He jumps, and quickly shoves a wad of napkins in his face to wipe his tears.

"Hiiiiii Karen!" Wettle says.

"You alright out here?"

He fiddles with his fingers. "My battery died and I've just been stuck here. I think all the tow truck companies have blocked me, heh..."

"Do you have a jumper cable?"

He sniffles and nods. "In the back."

"I'll give you a jump."

They go through the works of hooking one battery up to another. Wettle turns the key and his engine purrs to life.

"I can't thank you enough!" He says, wiping his face on his sleeve. "The day's barely gotten going and I'm already having a rough one. Hehe..."

"Hey," she says, gently. "Get it together."

She watches him drive until he's well and out of sight before getting back into her car and getting on her way home. She puts on a pair of fashionable sunglasses and dials [https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/whatever-s-left-of-me-to-get Aubrey Al-Khafaji].

//"Hello! Did my Kitty survive the Department of Motor Vehicles?"//

"We call it the Ministry of Transportation here, but yes, I've survived!"

//"That doesn't roll off that tongue."//

"Does the //Department of Motor Vehicles//?"

//"Hmm. Point. Any plans for the rest of the day?"//

"Probably stop at the mall. Try on some new clothes." She passes. "Such a teenager thing to say. I'm also going to get a bottle of wine and drink it in my underwear while watching dating shows."

//"I'd love nothing more than a front row seat to that."//

"Smooth talk me enough and maybe you'll get one!"

Police sirens sound off. Elstrom looks in her rear view mirror and sees a police truck right behind her. She pulls over, the truck pulls over behind her and comes to a stop.

"Uh oh."

//"Getting pulled over?"//

"Yes."

//"You weren't speeding, were you, Kitty?"//

"Only to keep up with the traffic." The officer gets out of his car. "Hold on, he's coming up to me."

She lowers Al-Khafaji's volume and runs her fingers through her hair. When the officer reaches her, she's got a smoldering look on her face. It wouldn't be the first time she'd gotten pulled over just to get hit on. She rolls down her window, lets her sunglasses fall to the bridge of her nose, and flutters her eyelashes.

"Can I help you, officer?" She coos.

"You're missing an inspection sticker." He points to the corner where the sticker should be.

She gawks in a painfully unsexy way. "This is a new car."

"Sadly, not a legal one." He hands her a ticket and a sticky note. "You can get it inspected here."

"Alright..." She stares at the ticket with dismay. It's not the price, but the principal of the matter!

"Get that sticker, and drive safely."

She rolls up her window and sits there. She turns up Al-Khafaji.

//"Kitty... Don't tell me you have been driving an un-inspected car."//

"It's a new car! Why would it need an inspection?"

//"Kitty..."//

"You're supposed to be on my side in these things!"

//"I am a health inspector. I am on the side of regular inspections!"//

Elstrom makes a flabbergasted horse-esque noise. "Aubreyyyyyyy."

//"Kitty!"//

Elstrom punches in the address in her GPS and turns around. Soon, she's in another waiting room, at least this time without a number or a coworker to keep her company.

"Where did //Kitty// come from," she asks as she waits. "I don't mind it, I just wonder."

//"I must confess... It is because of this song I have had stuck in my head."//

"Which song?"

//"The one that goes something something short skirt long jacket."//

"You know, I actually met the lead singer of CAKE back in the 80s and he wrote that song about me."

//"Is that true?"//

"No."

Al-Khafaji laughs.

Another hour off her life, Elstrom gets back into her car and puts her foot to the floor. "Mall trip for real this time!"

//"Yes!"//

Police sirens sound off again. Elstrom swears she sees the officer scowling in the rear view mirror.

"God damnit!" She mutes Al-Khafaji and lowers the window. "Yes, officer?"

"You know you were going ninety-eight in a sixty-five."

"No, I did not, officer."

"Ha. Ha." He says, dryly. "Speeding ticket." He hands over the ticket. Elstrom rolls up the window and watches him walk back to his car.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!"

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Karen Elstrom goes to the DMV

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