My Beef With Jesse

So today was the day of errands. I had a lot on my “to do” list.

To Do

• 10 am Personal trainer
• 12 pm Midas for oil change
• 1:30 pm VW dealer for a brake light recall
• 2:30 pm Groceries, and other miscellaneous errands
• 4 pm Fun and relaxation

What turned out as a straight-forward take-advantage-of-some-free-time efforts turned into a big ball of stressiness in the corner. Personal trainer went fine. I got a great deal of tips and refreshed my workout to better target my “concern” areas. Ran home, showered and made it to Midas on time.

The oil change and 30,000-mile checkup went fine too. Pretty quick service, good prices. All-around good time at my favorite Midas location. These helpful Midas people even courtesly informed me that my license plate registration had expired. Oh no! I’ll go fix that right away.

So I rushed home in my hope that maybe I misplaced the registration slip and sticker that is mailed to you by the Illinois state Secretary Jesse White. I looked through all my files (and anyone who knows me can verify that I’m very organized so misplacement is unlikely, although sometimes does occur). I check my recent files and my stored files in a big silver four-drawer file cabinet in the garage. To no avail, nothing! What’s going on Jesse? Where’s my sticker and slip? So I hopped on Jesse’s website to find a number. I call the convenient 800 number and ask, “Yo, I never got my slip. What’s up?”

Well, here’s where I start getting incredibily pissed off. (Enter headache from stage left.) I was informed that I just need to go to a state office conveniently located throughout the Chicagoland area to get my sticker. However, there will be a $20 delinquent fee. What? But I never got the slip, I reply. It only serves as a reminder, ma’am. It is still your responsibility to comply with state laws. But I’ve received the sticker in the mail since I’ve started driving. Well, ma’am, I’ve never received my sticker in the mail. Well, I don’t know what to tell you, but I’ve always received mine and so has everyone else. But nevermind, tell me where the local office is.

I make it over to the office after my dealership appointment (I did get a free carwash so woohoo for that!). I run in there, because now with the stress of driving around for an hour on expired plates through over-enthusiastic-police-saturated areas hasn’t eased my anxiety, and I walk up to the counter. I tell my story, and to no avail the guy doesn’t care either. He tells me though, You’ve got to watch out for Cambridge. We’ve been hearing a lot of problems with that street. Aha! So you have a problem? Then he tells me we only accept cash or check. STATE OF ILLINOIS: WELCOME TO THE 21ST CENTURY. GET A CREDIT CARD MACHINE. Of course, I don’t have my checkbook with me or $100 in my wallet, so I pay a late fee at a local bank just to get this entire mess over with. The bill is paid, sticker slapped on my plate and I speed off like a bat out of hell.

I get home, recount this awful tale to my mom who replies, I just got my sticker in the mail last week.

Oh brother!

New “to do” list:

To Do

• Email Jesse White