Byline: Frank Lepore

COLUMN: FRANKLY SPEAKING

I really wasn't looking forward to it. It was time to visit a branch of the Registry of Motor Vehicles to renew my automobile license. I received the notice about six weeks prior to my birthday ... plenty of time to mull over a time

Actually, I procrastinated for a couple of weeks. I wasn't exactly fearful of not passing the eye examination. Still, I recognized that the aging factor could have a negative effect on my eyesight. If I failed, whom could I get to drive me to my doctors' appointments?

However, one Monday morning I made a quick decision to get the blasted matter completed. I had been warned about long waiting times at the Registry office in Worcester, so settled for the Registry office at another nearby location. It was certainly a wise decision.

This Registry was certainly an orderly and efficient office - as were all its employees. The courteous receptionist issued to me a number 124 ticket and the flashing light indicated number 118 was currently being processed. I knew my number would be called soon ... and it was a few minutes later.

During the short wait, I was somewhat intrigued by the action around me in the waiting room. It seemed as if everyone was using cell phones. I really couldn't overhear the conversations, but most of the talking was in happy tones. I guess the users were quite happy that they had at least made it to the Registry.

Quite frankly, I do not own a cell phone - I am in the minority. I do understand the usage for emergency matters, but recently it seems as if nearly everyone owns one. I just can't understand how the world revolved when cell phones were just a twinkle in the eyes of telephone companies. I just can't wait until ear specialists come out with a pronouncement that constant usage will cause early deafness.

In a very short time, I was called to a counter for my testing. However, I was much more intrigued with the action at the adjacent counter than concerned with my upcoming test ... it really all took my mind from my possible impending doom - failure to pass the test.

The neighboring "client" was a very long-haired and rather unkempt-appearing young man. He was deeply into an argument with a very patient and courteous clerk.

In the entire process, there was a $40 renewal fee, as had been explained in the application material. Apparently, this applicant was somewhat short on funds and had not read the instructions carefully. Still, he was very confident as he spoke to the clerk.

"I don't have to pay the $40 renewal fee," he told the clerk in a confident tone, "I'm on welfare so I am not required to pay the fee."

"But it's a regulation," explained the patient clerk. "Being on welfare does not excuse you from the fee."

"Check your regulations again," insisted the applicant. "I know the fee can be waived."

"I'm sorry sir," replied the clerk, "I cannot excuse you."

This reply really irritated the applicant. He took out his cell phone with a flourish. (I don't know if the cell phone was welfare issued.)

"I'm calling my congressman. You'll be without a job soon." (I give the applicant credit. I think he had recently passed his citizenship test.)

The clerk, to my secret admiration, held his ground and the applicant stalked off, ostensibly to visit his congressman in person.

With this pleasant interlude over, my own clerk called me to face the music. I was wearing a Red Sox T-shirt, hoping the clerk was a member of Red Sox Nation. He wasted no time and didn't even notice my cool Red Sox shirt ... probably a Yankee fan.

"Read the chart, please."

When reading such charts, I have been accustomed to the easy lines first with resulting more difficult lines. This chart was apparently in reverse. I had some difficulty reading the first line. My heart sank (more than usual), and I could envision begging my friends and relatives for rides to necessary places.

But the second time was a breeze, as was the color chart. The clerk smiled and even congratulated me. I don't know how they keep their even temper. He then asked me to sit for my picture.

I think the Registry's cameras are rigged. I know I'm no Cary Grant, but the picture the camera produced made me look like a prison regular. Even the clerk was somewhat shocked.

"Sir, we can have another photo taken if you wish."

I did not wish. I just wanted to get out of there. I had learned from the applicant seeking a freebie that I could always call my congressman if I was not later satisfied.

Frank Lepore is a freelance columnist who was born in Clinton and lives in Sterling.