‘Retirement’ and ‘job’, isn’t that an oxymoron? I spent half of my adult life at home and then became a ‘displaced homemaker.’ I like to call it ‘misplaced.’ I had my first desk job at the age of sixty-five. Was I retired? Do I qualify as a retired working professional since I got such a late start? Sitting for eight hours was a new experience and I was quick to learn that lunchtime was a good time to do small errands. I needed to replace my driver’s license, but was that a small errand? How do I describe my visit to the DMV? It reminds me of something my late aunt once told me. She said that when she watered the lawn with a rotating sprinkler, the neighbors would sell tickets. I could have made a fortune at the DMV. I raced downtown, thinking- new license? Easy breezy. Employment had given me a new ‘can do’ attitude.
At first, everything went remarkably well, a convenient parking spot, a short line, I answered a few questions. They didn't ask for proof of ID or address, the questions that I was prepared to answer with documents, passport, mail, everything to prove my ability to be a responsible citizen and driver. I was prepared, prepared, prepared.
All was going well until I was asked, “Do you wear glasses for driving?” I became immediately nervous. I felt myself becoming transparent. Stammering “Don't you want to see my photo ID? Here, look, I have a tax document with my address.” Again, but with more emphasis, “Do you wear glasses for driving?” “Well, yes but, well no, the lens keeps falling out.” The clerks whisper and give each other ‘a look.’
I was beckoned over to the eye test machine. The chart had three columns and seven lines. “Read line five.” I proudly read across the first two columns. Oddly, the third column had no letters, it was just white paper. Strange. “Come over here please.” I now had the complete attention of everyone in the room. That was not too amazing because it is a small town. Five people were in rapt attention to this drama. I went to the second machine. It was the same scenario, I read across two columns and the third column had no letters. I glanced at a clock and saw that I had exactly twenty-five minutes left to finish this project, drive back to the office and be sitting at my desk calm, relaxed and smiling. Maybe doing this during my lunch break was not such a good idea.
I was told, "Go to your car and get your glasses.” Reduced to child- like obedience I went to my car, got my glasses, and popped in the left lens. I wanted my license now and I didn’t want another eye appointment, new glasses, the whole package that seemed to be looming in my immediate future. With the entire room in rapt attention, I covered my right eye as directed, then I dropped my purse. “Wait a minute, there is a reason for this. It's my mono-vision problem!” I quickly covered my left eye; the lens fell onto the floor and instantly the letters appeared in the blank column. With triumph in my voice, I read N S X T H! Applause broke out behind me. Smiles from the folks behind the counter. Yes! I did it! I can get my license! I had ten minutes to get back to work, and no time to explain mono-vision.
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