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Shenanigans at the Bank or I Fucking Hate the State of Arizona

September 28, 2007 2:02 PM

ven though I graduated several months ago, I have yet to actually get licensed to practice law. The reason for this is that I put off the character and fitness application until pretty much the last day and, since then, Wisconsin has sent me on a scavenger hunt for various documents that would make even that guy from The Da Vinci Code dizzy. Still, after narrowly avoiding committing a felony, I'm finally at the point where I only need to collect one more document before I've given them everything they want. I only need to get a copy of my driving record from Arizona. That shouldn't be a problem, right? Wrong.

First, Arizona apparently requires that drivers records be requested at a DMV in person. That's a problem, obviously, because I live in Wisconsin. So, fine, Lauren, being the awesome friend that she is, agreed to go to the DMV and get the thing for me. I just had to fill out some forms giving her the authority to do so. As an aside, I should not that I asked the woman from the Arizona DMV if, when they gave Lauren my records, they would be able to put them in a sealed envelope so that the Wisconsin Board of Bar Examiners would know that I hadn't tampered with the records. The woman told me that no, they would not do that. Jesus.

Anyway, there were three forms I needed to fill out, so I printed them and filled them out. One of them seemed to make a distinction between the person who's records were being requested (that's me) and the person who was actually doing the requesting (that would be Lauren). That form used the term "requester" to mean the latter. When another form used the same word, I thought it meant the same thing, so I didn't fill that part out or get it notarized. As it turns out, Arizona likes to play fast and loose with definitions, so when it said "requester" on the second form, it actually meant me. So, when Lauren went to the DMV to get my fucking record, they couldn't give it to her. Fine. Fuck them. So, now I've gotta print out that form again. Which I did. And I have to get it notarized. Fine.

There's a bank right on the corner by my apartment, so I figured I could just have it done there. I'm not a customer of that bank, but I figured that they'd do it for me anyway. Here's the conversation I had with the woman who did the notarizing.

Me: Hi, I was wondering if you'd be able to notarize this for me?
Her: Sure, are you a customer here?
Me: Yes. [I'm not. But I figured that they'd just take my word for it and not charge me for notarizing this thing]
Her: Do you know your account number?
Me: No.
Her: Ok, do you have your card?
Me: No.
Her: Ok, can I have your name, please?
Me: Sure. [Fuck. Why the hell did I just lie? Goddamnit, how do I get myself out of this?]
Her: Your first name?
Me: Right. Tapia. [I figured that the only way to get out of this is to commit to it.]
Her: And your first name?
Me: Ismael.
Her: Hmm... And you're sure you're a customer here?
Me: Umm, yeah. [Watch and learn, watch and learn.] Wait, what bank is this?
Her: Park Bank.
Me: Oh, really? Wow, I thought it was a U.S. Bank. Wow, yeah, no, I guess I'm not a customer here, sorry. [This was about one of the dumbest moments of my life. She knew I was lying, I knew she knew I was lying, it was just terrible. It was like that time with the hotel pool in San Diego.]
Her: Ok. There's a fifty cent notary fee.
Me: Right. Ok.
Her: What do you need notarized?
Me: This. [I hand her the form]
Her: Ok. And do you have some ID?
Me: Yeah. [I hand her my Arizona drivers license--I've never gotten a Wisconsin one.]
Her: Hmm... do you have anything that says you live in Wisconsin?
Me: I have my UW student ID. [I hand her my student ID, which doesn't have my address or anything on it.]
Her: Ok. And what is this form?
Me: It's a form for the Arizona DMV. It's kind of a long story.
Her: Ok. [Studies the form intently.] What's the MVD?
Me: That's the DMV in Arizona--the Motor Vehicle Division rather than Department of Motor Vehicles.
Her: Right. I've never seen a form like this--is there more to it?
Me: Yeah. But, see, I had to mail it to someone. And this is the only thing that was wrong with what I mailed her, so I just printed off this part of the form. So it doesn't make any sense on its own, but, yeah, this is what I need.
Her: Hmmm... alright. Well, go ahead and sign it.
[I sign it.]
Her:Can you make your signature so that it looks like the one on your drivers license?
Me: Did I not do that?
Her: No. [She looks really confused. I compare them. They look the exact fucking same--I have no idea what she wants. She compares the signatures again and comares the pictures on my IDs to me.]
Her: Ok, I guess it's you. Now, can I get your address, please?
Me: Sure. [I give her my address. I live on the same road as the bank, just down a few blocks. She knows that now. She looks at me. I know that she's thinking that I knew along what bank I was in. Goddamnit.]
So, as if Arizona hadn't already made me jump through enough hoops, I get the one notary public in the universe who takes her job seriously. Goddamnit.


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