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Monday, April 03, 2006 

A day at the County Court house

I had to go get my tag renewed today.
So off I go to the DMV. Alabama is the poster child for inefficiency. The woman who waited on me took a 4-minute break between each customer. She would adjust her bra, check her makeup, yawn, make a phone call on her mobile phone then impatiently wave the next person forward. There were 29 people in line so the 4-minute break (I timed her) meant 116 minutes wasted in the time I was there. She spent 36 minutes on one man who wrote his check incorrectly. Instead of having him write another check she had him make changes to it, initial it then have her supervisor initial it. She said, “I am so glad you did not have to waste a check, those things cost money.

Ok that’s one story but this is the real story of the day.

I go next door to the sheriff’s office. As I walk in there is an odd looking gentleman holding the door for me. He was wearing a filthy brown skirt that reached well past his knees, no shoes, a shirt that once had been white and had his, could have been blond, hair in dreg locks.
I said “thanks”
He said, “How’s it hanging slick, got any TP”?
I thought this an odd greeting, smiled not knowing what he was talking about and preceded on to the counter.
I was getting a concealed weapons permit and was waiting in line.
Suddenly an odor assaulted my sinuses. It reminded me of a tipped over port-a-Jon on the forth of July at a seafood festival.
Being the polite couth fellow that I am I said. Dang did the sewer explode?
I turn my head around and the fellow who held the door for me is squatting in the floor and has relieved his bowels on the floor. He looks up at me and said, “Hey slick can you get me some toilet paper”?
I said, “I don’t think I can.”

About this time a deputy came around cursing and said “Damn it Jamie you crapped in the F***ing floor again. Then he grabbed him by the arm and drug him out of sight.

We all stood there gagging and choking and a old janitor who must have been in his late 70s came around and said S**T Jamie done pooped in the floor again, and I gots to clean it up. He reached into a bag and threw some kind of powered sanitizer on the turd in the floor, which looked like as if was left by a 400-pound gorilla. Then he wandered off in search of more appropriate cleaning tools.

As I drove away two things bothered me about this incident

1. Who was Jamie and how did everyone there know him by first name.
2. It also struck me as odd that the man said S**T then referred to Jamie’s work as poop but I did not question him.

How could I make this up.