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What if I need to get to Tijuana DVLA?

Dear DVLA,

Everything has a time frame.

If you Google getting from one place to another, Google gives you an approximate time frame. For instance, Google tells me that it will take approximately 11 hours and 10 minutes on a non stop flight to get to Tijuana, Mexico. It also tells me I’m going to need to fly there from a London airport and since you guys aren’t playing ball with me, Google says it’s going to take me 10 hours and 7 minutes to walk to London City Airport from my house.  Google obviously isn’t taking into account that I could potentially pass out en route. I hope it’s factored a Starbucks somewhere on my walk to prevent any medical disasters.

So tell me what if I need to get to Tijuana? What the hell am I supposed to do then? 

See DVLA, if you just gave me my freaking license back I could be sitting in Tijuana with a bottle of tequila in 12 hours and 3 minutes. In 12 hours and 20 minutes I could be passed out on the floor  of a dodgy pub wearing a sombrero and flip flops,  after having devoured the worm with party goers laughing and dancing around me. If we do this shit your way, it’s going to take me 21 hours and 17 minutes to even get to Tijuana, in which the only place I am going to pass out is right outside the plane stepping off the damn thing from sheer exhaustion NOT wearing a sombrero and flip flops.

Which to you sounds more economical DVLA? None of this seems remotely humane.

I’ve been waiting for four months for you to process my application. At first you said, hey give us six weeks to get back to you because honestly the coffee here is absolute crap and we can’t work any faster on the cheap £1.99 jar of instant stuff. I understood. I thought, you know what, that’s fair. After more than six weeks later you guys said, well we’ve finally got Ted in the other department to type up a letter to your neurologist and he’s actually posted it. We’re sorry it’s taken so long, but Ted’s wife left him over Christmas and he’s been crying all over your previous letters and we thought it was unprofessional to send those out. It’s going to take another six weeks to see if we get a reply. I thought, ok so the DVLA obviously doesn’t give out personal leave time very well, but you’re probably under staffed and Ted is clearly dedicated to his job and it’s all he has left. I just hoped that my neurologist was having a better time in his love life and could get his secretary to type up a letter in less than six weeks.

So when today, my update consisted of well yes, we got a letter from your super efficient neurologist WEEKS ago and now we’re going to pass this onto our medical team. They will evaluate the letter, decide whether or not your Neurologist is paying his secretary enough money based on whether she can type and spell properly, get a handwriting analysis  investigator to analyse his signature and figure out if he’s telling us the truth or not about your medical condition and sit and have open therapy sessions with one another because all of this could potentially drag up some deep seeded emotional issues, especially with Ted because his wife WAS lying to him for 14 years. Then we’ll calm him down and get him to write you ANOTHER letter whenever all that is finished to let you know what our decision is about your license. I was pretty much devastated. Especially when I nicely asked you on the phone how long all of this was going to take, expecting a standard six weeks time frame and you jerk wads said Uh, there is no actual time frame on this part of the process. Do you know how heartbroken Ted is? It could take months of personal therapy and since he is our priority and our coffee is STILL the cheapest £1.99 crap, and we need to do a background check on your Neurologist to make sure he’s not wanted for fraud in any other countries, this could take….. you know what we don’t even know how long this could take.

You guys could have at least lied to me and said it would take possibly six to eight weeks and not just leave me hanging like this. 

I know I’ve been off the road for like four years. I get that. I know you’re swamped with sob stories about people who have to endure public transport and I’m also aware that walking is incredibly good for my health and will keep me from all sorts of other medical problems. I know, I’m a grown woman who knows all about calorie intake and output, I get that.

But seriously, when Ted’s marital breakdown is affecting my ability to just drive down to buy cat litter in bulk, or just be able to nip down to the store on a rainy day without hesitation, or get down to Tijuana to save a friend from a Mexican drug lord named Paco and wind up passed on on the floor of a dodgy pub wearing a sombrero and flip flops, well…..

I have a problem.  

Either give Ted some proper personal leave to sort his life out and get a temp in, who at least will work faster than Ted is right now provided she wasn’t single over Valentine’s Day this year- or just say truce and issue me with my license so I can get on with my life on the road. This isn’t a difficult choice you guys, it’s not like Paco is in your office yelling at you in Spanish in a poncho being scary, waving your cheap jar of instant coffee around like a hostage. He’s in Tijuana, in flip flops, probably with a whole case of Tequila maybe even eating a burrito.

Which is where I need to be you heartless bastards. 

 

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