Identity

Today I faced a trial I've been dreading for at least the past week: getting my UWF parking pass and ID card. Mind you, at Bucknell this was an extremely painless process. One might even say it was pleasant. However, I suspected that at a school three times the size of Bucknell, there would be lines and issues. My suspicion was vindicated when on Friday of last week I inquired about the process and was subsequently redirected to the appropriate office where there was quite the line of students. I opted to wait until Monday (today).

For various reasons, none of which really worth mentioning, I did not sleep last night, or I slept very little. My alarm went off at six a.m. signaling me to shower, drink coffee, and face UWF bureaucracy. I wanted to be there prior to the offices opening at eight a.m. so as to avoid a line. Of course I did not manage to avoid the line to get my parking pass, but it was minimal. I had no problems getting the pass. The next stop is the ID center. I walk in and the lady expects a receipt showing that I paid the $10 ID fee to the parking pass lady. I show her the receipt from the parking pass lady and she says it will not do. I respond by informing her that I'm faculty and, therefore, do not need to pay for my ID. Here is where the story gets interesting. She asks me how she's supposed to know I'm faculty and if she's expected to simply take my word for it. After all, she points out, I'm wearing a backpack. She tells me to get a note from my supervisor attesting to my status. I tell her that I will not do that and that she can take as proof that I'm faculty the fact that I'm holding the faculty parking pass I just purchased without incident. Again she is incredulous. I instruct her to run my ID number (printed on my parking pass receipt). This request is met with a deep sigh (mind you, no one else was in this office, so it wasn't like she was dealing with a horde of ID-hungry students). Coldly, she tells me to look at the camera, 1-2-3, and my picture is taken for the ID. Transaction over. On one hand, I was irritated with this woman who doubted that I was faculty, in the face of credible evidence, simply because I was wearing a backpack, and I was shocked by her cold demeanor; on the other hand, however, I was happy to have a business transaction with someone who treated me like shit, didn't call me 'hon', and didn't inquire about my life story ("what brangs ya' down here?, etc."). It was like a little taste of the northeast way down here in the deep south.

I'm looking forward to my appointment at the DMV a week from today.