March 28, 2006

After breaking fire codes with close to 70 other cramped Murfreesboro residents at the dilapidated offices of the DMV, I now have my TN drivers license. I didn't trust that my voter registration form would make it to the Registrar's office before the March 31 deadline, so I took it with me.

"Can I help you?" I looked around the office right off the town square and couldn't see anyone. "Can I help you?" An elderly woman pecking away on a keyboard and squinting through the bottom of her glasses at the screen seemed occupied. I wasn't sure whether the faint voice was hers or someone in the back on the phone. When I didn't answer again, she turned slowly, looked over her glasses and repeated herself.

I apologized and handed her the form I was given at the DMV and explained how I thought I should hand deliver it to make it before the upcoming deadline. She barely glanced at my driver's license and then told me how wonderful the ladies at the DMV are. I couldn't help but to think she had to be kidding, and then realized she was right. The entire office was exclusively women. All seven of them, seeming to pause before calling the next person as though they weren't about to go any faster than the slowest worker. In fact, nearly the entire time I was being helped, the lady running the terminal to my right stared at her blank Windows desktop opening and closing the same program, pretending to be busy for at least a full two minutes before calling the next person.

It wasn't until that moment that it dawned on me. I haven't seen a single government office yet with a single man working there. Even my bank was 100% female. So was the temp agency. Weird.

She gladly took the form and told me I will receive my registration in the mail before the May 2 primaries.

I love maps. They were all over the walls. As the lady working in the registrar's office was cutting the top portion of my form off on which I had scribbled the phone numbers for the hard to reach, hard to find, nearly non-existent local Democratic party (try to find any information online), I asked her if she had precinct maps.

"Oh, we're no longer in the map business," she said tersely. "We used to, but we don't give people those maps anymore." When I asked her how a voter would go about educating themselves on the district and precinct boundaries, she quickly jumped in and told me my card would tell me where to vote.

"I'm sure it will, but will it tell me what area my precinct encompasses in order to organize politically?" Perplexed, she looked at me and then told me where the maps were.

"OK, listen, what you need to do is go outside, around the corner to the planning commission office. But I'm warning you right now, it's going to cost you a lot of money." I paused expecting her to tell me, but had to ask.

"You're looking at at least $35, and that's just for one map."