How Waiting Makes Change Possible
Finding patience in an impatient world: Five hour line for a Real ID? Just text us…
You want voters to fire a very nice U.S. senator they’ve known for 40 years and replace her with you? You need to focus on fixable suffering — pain all voters feel and show how you can fix it.
Focus on our lousy worst-in-the-nation roads, we advised.
“No, that’s a state issue,’’ the millionaire said. We showed him 80 percent of road money comes from federal grants senators influence and we already had the nation’s highest state gas taxes (taxes voters have repeatedly and decisively shown they are unwilling to raise).
The candidate said he’d hired “political experts.’’ He spent his $5 million on a conventional campaign and lost.
Ironically, a gubernatorial candidate in the other party ran on “Fix the damn roads’’ and led her entire ticket to a sweeping victory (only to hit a massive roadblock when she wanted to raise our record gas taxes still more).
That scene flashed back to me as I spent more than five hours waiting in a hard plastic chair just to replace a beloved (but worn out) personalized license plate (you can’t do that online) and apply for a Real ID. I went in patiently prepared for a two hour wait (I’d heard numerous horror stories).
But no one expects to wait in any line but for five hours. The main lesson:
“Fixable’’ suffering can inspire transformative change.
When things are simply bad, you often “let it slide’’ and hum that same old song:
“That’s just the way it is. Some things will never change…’’
All across my state people talk about the insane lines at the Michigan Secretary of State’s office (most states call the same agency the DMV).
I avoided the pain for months, putting it off.
“Just make an appointment online! We have this fun text system and beautiful kiosks,’’ the politicians chanted. Never anything about actually fixing the lines, just talk of new and improved ways to use technology to avoid the lines (and people).
“We won’t hire more people!’’ they keep saying. “ Just call our friendly website or visit our kiosks at Kroger instead! We’d rather have you punch buttons (and never see us) than actually talk to us…”
But sometimes you want to talk to a real person…
I chose a very flexible day, brought work with me and sat down prepared. When the poor old lady (who probably still uses AOL) moaned about being there more than two hours, I shrugged it off. I thought it wouldn’t be that bad. And besides, I had my trusty iDevices with me. I was fine.
When a disease seems easy to fix, most act. Others watch and wait...
“Contemporary medicine’s ability to ‘fix’ certain types of suffering has produced a gradual shift in care- givers’ attention toward those types of suffering that are most fixable,’’ Indiana University Professor Richard Gunderman, MD, concluded. “That physicians give up on suffering when they can do nothing about the underlying condition is one of the contemporary criticisms of medicine.’’
I checked in at 11:36 a.m. to “beat the lunch time rush’’ and got a text telling me there were 88 people ahead of me in line.
Eighty-eight? In my little town?
Really?
A couple hours later, the line was down to 45 people. Then 43. Well, OK.
By 3:45 p.m., there were 18 people ahead of me in line. I figured I had time to run home and grab my glasses (in case I needed them for the vision test). I asked one of the nice workers, who agreed I had time.
At 4 p.m., while I was in my car, the text arrived telling me “Our SOS location closes in 1 hour. you must be physically present in the office BEFORE closing time for service with your required documentation.’’
Minutes later, with the weekend coming, a text arrived saying I was (somehow) at the front of the line. I tried to text back and started getting automated messages telling me to make an appointment on their website.
The mean cold cruel texts followed:
“Sorry, we didn’t understand your reply. If you want to join the line, just reply with the letter ‘J.’’’
J? I went along with their game and texted back “J’’
The impersonal machine of government shot back:
“Sorry, you are not allowed to join this line via SMS.’’
A frantic nonsensical back and forth of me and the heartless machine followed as I drove faster to get back to the government office. This super expensive government-financed technology wasn’t helping at all. It was telling me to schedule a new appointment on their wonderful website.
But I had faith in the human beings I saw trying to get that line moving. I drove back and went right to the front of the line. Thankfully, no one told me I was too late, that I’d missed my chance or any other “sorry, I can’t help’’ response.
I got to the front of the line and the delightful Connie helped me get everything I needed.
Well, mostly: when I asked whether I was right to get a Real ID or whether I was better off with an Enhanced ID she said that was another form and she didn’t seem to want me to take up that extra time.
I got to leave around 4:40 p.m., a little more than five hours after arriving.
Waiting Creates a Window
Two state officials came into the crowd and moved people. Like traffic cops doing all they could to get everyone going.
Both genuinely cared about their customers and worked to speed things up, maintaining a helpful atmosphere. They made me feel like I was treated respectfully by every single person I spoke with — that makes a huge difference.
But long term, the bigger problem of long lines creates an opportunity: either the current administration will fix the bottle necks or the bottle necks will inspire voters to find someone who can.
Fixable problems teach us how to change.
For 22 years, Michigan had the same secretary of state with offices all over the state and little wait time. It worked. Today we have fewer “regional’’ offices with longer waits and far more options. The stories about long waits go on and on. Lots of talk about avoiding people but few about fixing the lines.
If they can’t bring back more offices and staff, I wondered, why not partner with a coffee chain, sell beverages and get some better wi fi and seating? Make the pain a little more bearable?
Just ask Bill Clinton. Car tags transformed his career. Neither impeachment nor investigations nor scandals inflicted the cost that raising car registration fees did.
Clinton’s greatest electoral defeat came in 1980, when Arkansas voters removed him for… Some scandal? No, for raising car registration fees.
At age 34, Clinton became “the youngest former governor.’’ Humbled, he became apologetic, won his job back in 1982 and served another decade and finally, eight years as president — plus another two decades of activitity from his wife Hillary, (but that’s another story).