The Human Cost of Bureaucracy
The first evening of July, I arrived at my vehicle to find the latest blow dealt by D.C.’s bureaucracy: a $100 parking ticket. And before I knew it, I had another. Not only was the duplication an obvious error, but I had received no notice of the law I had violated. The tickets invited a challenge.
Although the term “bureaucracy” may seem unfair to civil servants who diligently work relatively menial jobs day after day in order to carry out the will of the people, the D.C. Department of Motor Vehicles perfectly matches the connotations of the word “bureaucracy.” My experience with the Virginia and D.C. DMVs on multiple occasions has been that Virginia DMV workers are polite, even pleasant, but most D.C. workers are stoic at best. At least dealing with the DMV is relatively straightforward, compared to the perils of navigating the D.C. Department of Consumer & Regulatory Affairs.
Salvador Dali despised bureaucrats, partly because he had issues with his father, a prominent bureaucrat. Dali’s painting The Average Bureaucrat (1930) depicts a depressed man against a starkly barren landscape, a faceless automaton apparently engaged in an exceedingly mundane activity that eventually causes him to stop interacting with the world and his fellow human beings. The Average Bureaucrat would blend in well with the D.C. DMV work force.
My latest dance with the bureaucracy began around 7 p.m. on July 1 when I parked my car under the bridge near the fish market in Southwest D.C. I was attending a happy hour hosted by my friend at a local restaurant. Before leaving my car, I checked for any indication that parking was not permitted. There was no such indication, no sign, no yellow curb. I parked behind another car on Water Street S.W., where parking is generally permitted.
Upon returning to my vehicle, I had a $100 ticket glaring at me. The offense: parking under a bridge. Approximately twenty cars had lined up behind mine, and the math was easy enough: the City would be collecting a tidy $2,000 on that street that evening.
Two officers were writing tickets, so I indignantly pulled my ticket off my car and began a discussion with one over the fairness of the ticket. He nearly admitted that the ticket was unfair because there was no indication that one should not park on the particular portion of the street. But I could not be angry with the officers, they were simply performing their duties— performing them so well that, during my 30-minute discussion with the officer, the other officer wrote another ticket for my vehicle because I had taken the first ticket off the car. By the time I discovered the new ticket, the officers were gone. Now I had a pair of $100 tickets.
A word of advice: one should always deal with D.C.’s bureaucracy as soon as possible. Procrastination only delays the pain and increases the potential for additional damage.
By late July, I mistakenly thought that I had received the ticket on July 5 and had until August 5 to challenge it. This is because the bureaucrats’ ticket blanks did not permit the usage “July 1, 2005” preferred by most people but rather “01 July 05.” On August 2nd, I examined the ticket more closely and suddenly realized that I had a big problem: The 30 days for challenging the ticket had passed. My right to challenge the ticket was in doubt and, because I had not paid the ticket, the amounts of the tickets would double to $400. That is one heck of a parking tab for a happy hour.
Fifteen minutes later, I hopped in a cab and headed to 65 K Street, N.E. Perhaps I am jaded by my past DMV experiences, but the hour and forty-five minutes that it took to tour the ticket challenge process seemed to pass quickly, helped along by a newspaper. The gentleman who heard my complaint was articulate, firm but reasonable, and followed the law. I was permitted to challenge the tickets despite the fact that more than 30 days had passed. The duplicative ticket was quickly disposed. But the underlying offense stood.
The hearing adjudicator, who never once displayed a hint of emotion and seemingly talked to no one in particular, told me that for a few parking offenses, such as parking on a sidewalk, no notice of the law was necessary. Yes, only an drunken idiot would think that parking on the sidewalk is permitted. But 20 other people who parked behind me likely had been fooled by this strict liability statute. Nevertheless, the adjudicator not only waived the doubling of the fine, he cut the original one in half—perhaps by accident. I didn’t question the decision.
On my way out, I paid my ticket, which required taking another number, another seat, reading a few more newspaper articles. I also took the opportunity to pay a $50 automated speeding violation (for driving 38 MPH in a 25, 3 MPH above the fine threshold), so this was an “efficient” trip to the DMV. It’s important to pay tickets in person or on-line if one has the opportunity. The last time I visited 65 K Street NE to adjudicate a ticket, it was because the District claimed to have never received my $200 check for a snow zone violation (a very sneaky law for new residents) and had doubled the fine.
When my number was called and I walked up to interact with the woman located behind the thick glass to pay my ticket, she never once acknowledged my existence, despite my attempts to engage her on a human level. I am sure she had not smiled in months while on the job. I was just another piece of paperwork to be processed. She was The Average Bureaucrat.
Although the term “bureaucracy” may seem unfair to civil servants who diligently work relatively menial jobs day after day in order to carry out the will of the people, the D.C. Department of Motor Vehicles perfectly matches the connotations of the word “bureaucracy.” My experience with the Virginia and D.C. DMVs on multiple occasions has been that Virginia DMV workers are polite, even pleasant, but most D.C. workers are stoic at best. At least dealing with the DMV is relatively straightforward, compared to the perils of navigating the D.C. Department of Consumer & Regulatory Affairs.
Salvador Dali despised bureaucrats, partly because he had issues with his father, a prominent bureaucrat. Dali’s painting The Average Bureaucrat (1930) depicts a depressed man against a starkly barren landscape, a faceless automaton apparently engaged in an exceedingly mundane activity that eventually causes him to stop interacting with the world and his fellow human beings. The Average Bureaucrat would blend in well with the D.C. DMV work force.
My latest dance with the bureaucracy began around 7 p.m. on July 1 when I parked my car under the bridge near the fish market in Southwest D.C. I was attending a happy hour hosted by my friend at a local restaurant. Before leaving my car, I checked for any indication that parking was not permitted. There was no such indication, no sign, no yellow curb. I parked behind another car on Water Street S.W., where parking is generally permitted.
Upon returning to my vehicle, I had a $100 ticket glaring at me. The offense: parking under a bridge. Approximately twenty cars had lined up behind mine, and the math was easy enough: the City would be collecting a tidy $2,000 on that street that evening.
Two officers were writing tickets, so I indignantly pulled my ticket off my car and began a discussion with one over the fairness of the ticket. He nearly admitted that the ticket was unfair because there was no indication that one should not park on the particular portion of the street. But I could not be angry with the officers, they were simply performing their duties— performing them so well that, during my 30-minute discussion with the officer, the other officer wrote another ticket for my vehicle because I had taken the first ticket off the car. By the time I discovered the new ticket, the officers were gone. Now I had a pair of $100 tickets.
A word of advice: one should always deal with D.C.’s bureaucracy as soon as possible. Procrastination only delays the pain and increases the potential for additional damage.
By late July, I mistakenly thought that I had received the ticket on July 5 and had until August 5 to challenge it. This is because the bureaucrats’ ticket blanks did not permit the usage “July 1, 2005” preferred by most people but rather “01 July 05.” On August 2nd, I examined the ticket more closely and suddenly realized that I had a big problem: The 30 days for challenging the ticket had passed. My right to challenge the ticket was in doubt and, because I had not paid the ticket, the amounts of the tickets would double to $400. That is one heck of a parking tab for a happy hour.
Fifteen minutes later, I hopped in a cab and headed to 65 K Street, N.E. Perhaps I am jaded by my past DMV experiences, but the hour and forty-five minutes that it took to tour the ticket challenge process seemed to pass quickly, helped along by a newspaper. The gentleman who heard my complaint was articulate, firm but reasonable, and followed the law. I was permitted to challenge the tickets despite the fact that more than 30 days had passed. The duplicative ticket was quickly disposed. But the underlying offense stood.
The hearing adjudicator, who never once displayed a hint of emotion and seemingly talked to no one in particular, told me that for a few parking offenses, such as parking on a sidewalk, no notice of the law was necessary. Yes, only an drunken idiot would think that parking on the sidewalk is permitted. But 20 other people who parked behind me likely had been fooled by this strict liability statute. Nevertheless, the adjudicator not only waived the doubling of the fine, he cut the original one in half—perhaps by accident. I didn’t question the decision.
On my way out, I paid my ticket, which required taking another number, another seat, reading a few more newspaper articles. I also took the opportunity to pay a $50 automated speeding violation (for driving 38 MPH in a 25, 3 MPH above the fine threshold), so this was an “efficient” trip to the DMV. It’s important to pay tickets in person or on-line if one has the opportunity. The last time I visited 65 K Street NE to adjudicate a ticket, it was because the District claimed to have never received my $200 check for a snow zone violation (a very sneaky law for new residents) and had doubled the fine.
When my number was called and I walked up to interact with the woman located behind the thick glass to pay my ticket, she never once acknowledged my existence, despite my attempts to engage her on a human level. I am sure she had not smiled in months while on the job. I was just another piece of paperwork to be processed. She was The Average Bureaucrat.
posted by The Libertarian Republican at 3:38 AM
1 Comments:
*A word of advice: one should always deal with D.C.’s bureaucracy as soon as possible. Procrastination only delays the pain and increases the potential for additional damage.*
Ironic, isn't it? Especially since acting quickly usually only means it will be sitting on some bureaucrat's desk for a longer period of time before anything is ever done about it(assuming anything IS actually done).
Congratulate yourself! You just "saved" $750.00! Go splurge on a couple of jaywalking tickets. I hear they are very popular in DC these days. ;)
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