I was at the RTA (Road Traffic Authority) the other day.  I always hate going to the RTA.  There’s just something about bureaucracy that gets under my skin.  I can’t complain about the length of time it took me to get a licence.  It was actually quite efficient.  I will complain about the outcome, however.

Knowing that you never have enough documents to meet their requirements I came as prepared as I could to get my state drivers licence.  Yet it turned out to be not enough.  The problem happened to be with the rental agreement that was proving my residential address.  The lease used ‘Dan Godde’ instead of my full name, and so was therefore invalid.  I resisted the (strong) temptation to enter a rant about the likelihood of my place of residence being occupied by another ‘Dan Godde’ who just happened to have an incredibly similar name to me, who I was trying to pass myself off as.  Instead she spied my registration receipt.

I had brought my registration receipt in to see if I could get the address updated on my rego, since I no longer lived there.  When she said, ‘You’re saved’, I just couldn’t bring myself to point out that the address was no longer valid.  Though I had entered a different address on my application form and provided her with a rental agreement to a different house, she went ahead and issued me a licence with the old address on it.  Apparently that was the only option that validly fell within her strict processes, processes so strict and careful that they prevented the possibility of fraud or mistakes.

So now I have a licence with an address on it that I don’t live at.  Another triumph of process over outcome.  The irony now is that I can change my address online for both my rego and licence and provide no proof whatsoever.  I love bureaucracy.