First World Problems

“First World problem is an informal term for the issues in First World nations that are complained about in response to the perceived absence of more pressing concerns.^[1] It has been called a subset of the fallacy of relative privation and is also used to acknowledge gratefulness for not having worse problems, such as those in the Second or Third Worlds.^[2] It has been used to minimize complaints about trivial issues and shame the complainer, to generate humour at the expense of first world culture,^[3] and as good-humored self-deprecation.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/First_World_problem

Yesterday, I realized that the end of the month is approaching and the Colorado registration on one of my two cars was expiring.

I was really on top of it when I got the small, thin cardboard notification in the mail a few weeks back, as my eyes noticed the small addendum on the notification that the car had aged out and needed to have an emissions test before it could be registered. Everything gets old before you know it. Cars are no exception.

So, when I got that notice, afraid that this new extra requirement would be time consuming, and not wanting to get screwed by a last minute delay, I hopped into my Toyota (yes, the one from The Claire Saga) and headed off to Ft Collins to one of many distant Air Quality Testing Facilities. It was a rather painless procedure – 1/2 hour at most. LIke a car wash, you sit in a waiting room while the car makes it down a long corridor. The car passed the inspection. The saccharinely friendly workers then gave me a nice print out and told me that they were having computer system issues and it would take a few days for the inspection results to get from the inspection station into the county system, so I went home and figured I could take care of it the following week. So, I took the cardboard notice and the inspection print out and tossed it on my desk. And forgot about it.

Now remember, as a lawyer and a writer, you would think I know how to read. Alas, only when I’m being paid for it.

Well, I spotted the cardboard notice and inspection print out on my desk yesterday morning and realized I hadn’t followed-up as planned to get the car registered and so, in a panic I hopped into the Toyota and raced to the County DMV. There, I printed myself a kiosk waiting number – like at a busy bakery in the old days – and sat in the nice air conditioned waiting hall for my number to be called. The experience is very much like watching paint dry.

Now there must have been solar storms because my phone was acting funky. I wasn’t getting calls and I couldn’t access the internet. So, I spent my time people watching and listening in on snippets from some of the random conversations between citizens and government employees happening within ear shot.

This is one more chance for me to opine that the Colorado government employees are far nicer than the ones back east – because I would have hung myself if I were forced to listen to any more innocent and polite blather that I was hearing around me. I missed listening to the confrontational exchanges that occured in New York, often ending with an exchange of expletives, threats and hand gestures between the bullet proof glass. And the NYS DMV workers – out of pure venomous spite – would have hit the trap door button on most of these sweet and nice Colorado citizens, who would have then plummeted into the subterranean caverns of New York, to be gobbled up by all of the giant alligators and crocs New Yorkers have historically released into the sewer system of that great city (after returning from visiting their grandparents in Florida).

After a while, I was distracted by a friendly CO DMV supervisor making rounds and apologizing to the few people sitting there, in surprisingly comfortable chairs, for having to wait.

Can you imagine?!

When the woman got as far as my seat, she asked to see my papers, which I proudly handed her with a defiant stare. She flipped through them carefully, studying them with an experienced eye, and then said, with a friendly lilt in her voice, “Good, you seem to have all the right papers . . . unfortunately they are for two different cars.”

I looked at this strange woman like she had just told me she was pregnant with my illegitimate child. Impossible!!!!! (Well, maybe not impossible – https://www.webmd.com/healthy-aging/too-late-to-have-baby-60-year-old-man)

“You have your inspection and proof of insurance for your Toyota, but the registration notice [that tiny cardboard postcard] is for your Acura.” And she had the audacity to pleasantly smile at me.

Zounds! Why have the gods failed me in my maleness which renders me unable to ever read directions on anything that applies to me?

Sheepishly, I took back my papers from this very pleasant woman and slinked out of the CO DMV.

I wanted to go home and hide in my subterranean office. But I still had my wife’s Acura to deal with.

So, I sucked it up and drove back to Casa Claire, switched cars, drove the second McCaffrey car up to Ft. Collins for yet another inspection [which is where I snapped the above photo when Johnny Carey suggested in a text that I was faking a reason not to accept his phone call – I would have been far more creative if I was faking a reason, especially for Johnny] drove from there back to the CO DMV with the new print out in hand, along with that car’s proof of insurance, and the same cardboard postcard that clearly stated it was for the Acura, got another kiosk bakery number, and then sat with my hat pulled down and my sunglasses on, so I would not be recognized by any of the government workers. My phone was still acting funky, which made the relatively brief but extremely silent wait agonizing.

Anyway, after my kiosk number was called, and a brief and pleasant exchange with one of the smiling clerks, where the worst of it was the extra $6.00 surcharge for paying for the registration by debit card (a complete scam), I had the new registration sticker, which I placed on the Acura license plate as soon as I got back to Casa Claire.

October will find me repeating the process for the Toyota.

I know, I know. First world problems.

Well, the good news is that the nice people at the CO DMV told me I can still use the accidental inspection I got for the Toyota when I repeat the process in October.

Hopefully, I will actually read the next notice, which should be arriving in the mail any day now.

Well, look at that, it’s Tuesday. Monday is again behind us.

You fine, five readers get that coffee in you and go out there into the real world and be productive. And nice.

Make sure you read what is placed before you. All of it. No scan reading.

I’m going to head out and cuddle some kitties. Then make my rounds. No reading until I get back behind my lawyer desk.

And no matter what else we get up to, let us make today a great one.