I went to the local Queensland Transport office to lodge an Application ('please Sir, State of Queensland, please!') for a replacement Driver License. I was appropriately armed with various documents that somehow prove that I am who I am. Two documents from the A-list and one from the B-list or one document from the A-list and two from the B-list. No, I don't have anything with my signature on it except my library card – oh, you don't accept that. No, I don't have a bankcard – I lost it with the rest of my wallet. Yes, that's where my DL was.
Twenty questions follows: address, previous address, address before that. Infringements. Make, model and registration number of current vehicle. Previous licenses issued in other States, if any.
The public servant reaches the end of the interrogation, turns to the computer and types in the secret code that unlocks the access to NSA global database. NSA are in cahoots with SMERSH, KAOS, CIA , Lloyds of London, the Fed and SPER. SPER have suspended my licence. ( That would explain the unsolicited letters from a nameless entity identified only by the GPO Box number. I Returned them To Sender – for all I know they could have been summonses or something equally ugly.) ( I don't like summonses.) I am unable to proceed further in the matter and walk home.
Later that day I call SPER and threaten the friendly operator with Dark Deeds if he does not immediately, Right Now, suspend the suspension of my license so that I can go Queensland Transport and get a replacement license. He fearfully complies. Ha. Never underestimate the power of the Individual against the Machine. (It's the System you have to watch out for.) (Please don't ask me how I Know.)
The next day I am at Queensland Transport office again. After thirty minutes of avoiding the stupid daytime TV shows that have been muted so as not irritate grumpy old men like me I win the alphanumeric bingo (yes, I actually yelled 'Bingo!' The Sheeple pretended that they heard nothing. That's how I knew they were Sheeple.) and approach counter Three, now Serving Gee Four One Three. I am now well rehearsed in the twenty questions and pass with flying colours. The public servant eyes me suspiciously until I explain to her that I had already passed the test the previous day. Everything is proceeding well until she says that I have to pay. Why didn't the previous day's public servant in any manner allude to this pecuniary requirement? I don't have any real money (silver or gold) on me, will you accept government-issued coupons (you know, so-called 'paper money')? No? Never mind, doesn't seem that I have enough anyway. After a short panic attack that lasted about two deep breaths I remember that I have my wife's VISA card and she has inexplicably trusted me with her PIN. ( I do have some faith in the Generousity of My Fellow Humans.) ( Or maybe it has something to do with me taking her to see 'The Phantom of the Opera' few weeks ago.) I swipe the card in the Financial Transaction Tracking Device and enter my PIN. The public servant takes the card, looks at it and asks to see the statement from the electricity company again. My wife's name is the same on the VISA card and the statement. The public servant is happy to take electronic blips in lieu of Real Money (silver or gold, d'oh).
I finally get to sign my signature on the form from which the said signature will be copied onto my license in digital form. I disdain the common ball point pen offered and produce my fountain pen. The nib catches on the paper and consequently my signature doesn't look like my signature. The public servant indicates that I should move to the end of the counter, where several new licensees are waiting to get their photos taken. I join the queue. Only after a few photographees it is the turn of TMIFOMITQ (The Man In Front Of Me In The Queue). The operator takes his picture, looks at the paperwork. 'Shit, wrong person. Sorry, I didn't mean to say that.' Maybe they are human , after all. Second time around she has the form correctly matched with TMIFOMITQ.
Then it is my turn. I sit down. Please look up. Without adjusting my spine I roll my eyes up. I am going for the Hannibal Lectern look. The operator asks me to lift my head up. I mentally unscrew the two bolts in my neck, grab my ears and extend my arms straight up. In reality I oblige the operator. One two three flash. Please sit down I will call you when It Is Done. What is It and what is being Done to It and if you don't mind I will stand. I wait for TMIFOMITQ to get his license and approach the operator who diligently makes sure that the photo and the face match. I don't trust her and check it myself. It is my license with a Pictorial Two-Dimensional Representation of My Likeness and I shove it into my waistpouch. Thank you Very Much.
Since I didn't have a unsuspended or any other type of license I had left the car home. I walk home. The signature actually doesn't look too bad. If I ever have to explain the discrepancy between my usual signature and the one on the license I'll say it's merely a case of His Nibs.
