On the way to the Division of Motor Vehicles, I was talking to Kristen on the phone, and she asked, “What are you wearing?”
“Wearing?” Asking what clothes I have on is like asking a police officer what he or she wears to work. I have a uniform. Black Carhartt pants and a T-shirt. If I have a job interview or need to dress up, then I get a lint remover and roll the cat hair off of my pants.
“The usual,” I said. “Why?”
“The photo for your driver license,” she said. “Don’t you even care?”
Of course I care. For instance, when I drive, I use a hands-free ear bud for my cell phone, so I was able to take a sip of coffee, then look at my reflection in the rearview mirror. I care about safety. I didn’t, however, care for my reflection.
After filling out the paperwork at the DMV, and while waiting for my name to be called, I stepped into the bathroom to gussy up for the photo. With my hair, there isn’t a lot of gussy to up. It’s getting to the point where it seems like there is more hair caught in my bathtub drain than on my head.
Sure, everyone at some point “goes to the bathroom.” It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, but I didn’t want the entire DMV to think, “That guy just pooed.” So I diffused the situation by saying, “No. No. I was just looking in the mirror fixing my hair.”
It’s not like the DMV is a holding area for the Mensa club of Salt Lake City or is even a place where pretty people congregate. No. This is seemingly a collection of ugly, stupid people. It’s almost like the beautiful never need to get a driver license. And yet, the entire waiting room of the DMV found common ground in thinking that I looked funny. It was like being laughed at by the cast of Dumb and Dumber.
My driver license photo wasn’t worth 1,000 words. It was only worth one: “haircut.”
When you walk into the Dollar Shop, don’t look for a receptionist, because there isn’t one. There are two rows of barbershop chairs (some dating back to the early ’60s). You also don’t take a number. You take a seat on a wooden bench or plastic chair in front of the person whom you want to give your $5 to. Then, they take the money and a little off the sides and the top.
After I got my haircut, I called Kristen and said, “I may be wearing the usual, but I feel like a hundred bucks.” Minus $95.