Patti (whipartist) wrote,
Patti
whipartist

On Vox: Victory! And this time I mean it

Much like President Flightsuit and his premature "Mission Accomplished!" stunt on a carrier, I declared victory over the DPTin early November.  I was wrong.

What happened is this:  about a year and a half ago one of my motorcycles was stolen while on loan to a coworker.  It was recovered about five weeks later.  The fucktards who stole it managed to drop the bike on both sides, bust the gas tank, break a bunch of plastic, kill the battery, and thrash the electrical system.  After forking out several hundred dollars to my absolutely wonderful mechanics, I had a working motorcycle again.  (Fucking fuckwit scumbag lowlife bike thieves.)

When I tried to pay the registration this year, I discovered that there were three outstanding parking tickets on the bike.  It cost me an extra $390 to get the tags.  Sure enough, when I looked up the tickets I discovered that all three happened during the time that the bike was in  the possession of the abovementioned assclowns.  After a few calls to the DPT, a call to the SFPD, and a fair bit of gratuitous paperwork, I got a letter from the DPT stating that yes indeed the tickets were not my responsibility, and that they'd been dismissed.  All I had to do was sign the letter and return it to them and they'd send me a refund.

I am naive, and I declared victory.  I dutifully signed the letter, made a copy of it to be safe, and sent it off to the DPT.  I then waited for my check.  And waited.  And waited.

Two and a half months later, no check. I reread the letter, and they said they'd get it to me within 45 days.  Beauracracy... check.  I called, did the phone system runaround for a while, and eventually got to the sole dude in the DPT who is responsible for this kind of thing.  He swore he never got the letter, but if I'd fax a copy to him he'd get right on it.  And he'd call me back as soon as the fax got there.

I had the paperwork sitting in my desk drawer, so I faxed it right over.  No call.  The next day, no call.  I called back, and after another phone-system runaround got the same dude.  He never got the fax, please send it again.  I did, and didn't hear anything from him.

This evening when I got home from work there was an envelope in my mailbox.  Inside was a check for $390 from the city of San Francisco.  Lemme tell you... I've gotten checks that are orders of magnitude larger than this one, but never in my life have I seen one so beautiful.  I fought the despised DPT, and won.  Take that, you merciless self-important Cushman jockeys.  This time the war was mine.

(Now if only the guy who borrowed the bike and got it stolen would reimburse me for some of the big chunk o'change I spent getting it running again...)

Originally posted on patti.vox.com

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