Most of Our Worries Never Happen

photo from http://www.ehow.com

I hate taking a day off on regular days. I’m afraid that when I get back to work somebody may be sitting in my cube. In these days of company downsizing you really have to watch your seat. But today I had to do it. I had to go to the DMV (Department of Motor Vehicles) to renew my driver’s license.

First you do after arriving at the DMV is get a number and wait for your number to be called. When your turn comes, your number is announced and gets displayed on a TV screen. Each number starts with a letter (A, B, C, D, E, F, G, or H) followed by a 3-digit number. Why it’s called a number, even though it starts with a letter, is anybody’s guess. I got number G054. The lady told me to wait for my turn. I asked, where? Anywhere that pleases you, she answered.

I found a seat beside an elderly lady accompanied by her daughter and her baby. They were speaking in Spanish. They brought with them a big bag containing baby’s stuff and what looked like lunch. What in the hell, I thought to myself, they treat getting a license like a picnic. They appeared so relaxed and happy. to the contrary, I appeared so worried and paranoid.

Questions kept dancing through my mind. Will I pass the written test? I didn’t study much. Will i pass the vision test? My pair of glasses is two years old. Will i get a better picture on my license this time? I never had a good one before. It often looks like a mugshot from the FBI. Will the office believe I’m really sick today? I wasn’t really convincing over the phone. What if I get into an accident? The office would then find out I had been lying. Oh no, will they fire me and then outsource my job to India? The powers-that-be must thinking of that for sometime now.

The longer I waited for my turn, the more I got paranoid. The seconds turned into minutes and the minutes turned into hours and still I found myself waiting. The folks besides me were smart enough to bring their lunch. Somebody must have tipped them in Spanish that the waiting would be long.

While waiting for my number to show up on the TV screen, I felt nature calling. I needed to go to the restroom. However, after waiting for so long, I didn’t want to miss my turn, so I tried to hold on for dear life. The time came that I felt like a tired boxer at the end of a round, with his mouth attempting a fake whistle, trying to relax, and breathing deeply. In other words, the point of no return had been reach. I said to myself, to hell with it. I ran to the restroom and got the much-needed relief. Fortunately, I didn’t miss my turn.

What’s the moral of the story? Most of our worries actually never happen. In spite of my worries, I didn’t miss my turn, I passed both the written and vision tests, and I arrived safely home. Soon I’d get my new driver’s license in the mail. I found the four hours I spent at the DMV well worth it.