Typical Day
It's 7:50AM, and Freddie has made it in to work a little early. Having gotten up a little before 7:00AM, it's easy for him to get to work on time. He used to take public transportation, but now that he has a steady job at the Department of Motor Vehicles, he's able to park his pride and joy—a 2002 Honda Civic hatchback—in the parking lot. Getting to work a little early is important to him; it allows him to get into his zone before the daily frenzy starts.
As the minute hand counts down on the circular clock above the door, he organizes both his workspace and his thoughts. With seconds to go, Freddie throws his game face on and prepares for today's onslaught of joy and wonder.
The doors open at 8:00AM. By 8:05AM, the lobby is teeming with people of all shapes, colors, creeds, and levels of personal hygiene. Freddie's queue of customers stretches all the way to the doors.
Around 9:45AM, a large man becomes red in the face as he tells a mother to quiet her screaming child. Freddie doesn't really notice: he's too busy helping the pretty girl having trouble filling out her 1070 form. Unless an actual fight breaks out, he doesn't care. He has a job to do.
At 10:45AM, Freddie takes a break to hit the bathroom. He doesn’t need to go or anything; he just needs to get away for a minute. He holds the bathroom door for Harold, another clerk, walking out as he's walking in—the clerks all do the bathroom break trick at some point during the day. Those moments of stillness in the restroom are the most peaceful of Freddie's day so far. By 10:50AM, the peace is over and he returns to the front, re-energized for combat.
At 12:30PM, Freddie clocks out for his lunch break. Booking it past the employee cafeteria, he meets up with his co-workers, Carol and Ted, and they head out the back. They walk down the block to their typical hideout, a sandwich shop on the corner of a quiet intersection. Freddie grabs his usual tuna on rye, apple, and iced tea. Carol gets the her Wednesday reuben. Ted switches it up and gets the soup and salad combo. What a rebel.
Clocking back in at 1:00PM, Freddie's supervisor asks him to take a shift in the call center. Time away from the desk? Freddie finds his headset and puts on a helpful voice faster than a reckless driver running a red. "Thanks for calling the Department of Motor Vehicles, this is Freddie, how can I assist you today?"
He spends the next few hours answering questions, transferring calls to other departments, and confirming or denying records, files, and information in the database. One elderly gentleman who has yet to receive his replacement ID spends from 2:46PM to 2:52PM calling Freddie every four-letter word in the book. Two of them are new to Freddie, so he jots them down to Google later on.
This, of course, is Freddie's coping mechanism. If he let every jerk get to him, he'd have left the Department on day two, and wouldn't have the steady income he has going now. But not every interaction is bad. The very next caller is a panicking mother who's afraid she won't be able to pick her daughter up at school next week. Freddie asks her a few questions and, moments later, he has her renewed license in the mail and has received a heartfelt thank you. Well done, Freddie. Well done.
Finally, the clock strikes 4:00PM. Freddie punches out, says goodbye to the eleven co-workers within goodbye-saying distance, and exits stage right. He gets into his car, puts on his shades, and drives out of the parking lot with the radio turned all the way up.
Over the next seven hours, Freddie sits at home with his girlfriend, enjoys a home-cooked meal for the two of them, and spends a total of zero minutes thinking about cars, 1070 forms, or licensing exams.
That's how he likes it, and part of why he sticks with this job. Sure, he'd like to get a higher-up job in a quieter business within the next ten years—but for now, Freddie's content to stay with the DMV. There's nothing he likes more than not having to take his work home with him.