Between a Mistake and a Hard Place

When I moved to Florida, I was elated to learn that my little DMV office was clean and organized and I wasn't expected to wait for 4 hours to speak to someone. This was the way of things in 3 other states where I had lived, so it was my expectation when I walked into the office to solve a problem. It seemed there was a mistake made by someone at the Tallahassee office, and I was certain it would be a simple fix. Walking in that steamy afternoon, I was met with 2 elderly security guards who verified I was a resident of the county and that I had my mask. Once seated I could overhear them chatting about the rocky start of the delayed baseball season with doubts on whether it would be successful.

When my number was finally called, I found the correct desk and noted the sign discouraging me from leaning on the counter in an effort to follow social distancing guidelines. Right off the bat, I was forced to take a defensive posture and it set the tone for the rest of the interaction. I stated my problem very clearly. The wrong date was requested of my insurance company to verify that we had liability coverage. It was a simple matter, the date requested was not the date of the accident, they had asked for the date they were calling. So instead of proving that we had insurance on the day that my daughter rear ended another car, the insurance company denied that we had coverage. On July 17, the car had already been totaled and replaced with another car.

The veteran DMV employee, Sandy, assured me that the insurance company had to have made the mistake. Or, maybe we didn't actually have the insurance coverage. She had been working there for decades and seen how the insurance agencies deny any wrongdoing and actually make stuff up, she told me. I just needed to get a letter, on letterhead, from the company that stated the information being requested; the coverage on May 29th, the date of the accident. So much for my easy errand and my impression of the Florida DMV.

Just as a light misty rain began to fall, I headed out to my car to make the phone call to my insurance agent. The storm clouds rolled in slowly and the rain drops got bigger and angrier while I waited on the phone for the agent to tackle this problem. An entire hour had passed before she finally conceded that their policy would not allow them to write a letter, on letterhead, and fax it to my local DMV. They could fax a document that had most of the information that was being requested, but it could not be a letter, on letterhead. What? Really? By now the pounding of the raindrops was starting to sound louder and pulse with my blood pressure. She faxed the document she was allowed to send and I went back into the DMV.

No. That document will not suffice. You must have the letter, on letterhead.

Back to the car. Another agent. Another futile conversation. Neither side will bend. I end up with the promise to get "something" sent directly to Tallahassee and I should "check in" with my local DMV in a few days. Meanwhile my daughter has her license suspended. I take a deep breath and run to my car with no umbrella. I might as well be soaked from the storm, because this mess has my spirit drowning.