Yesterday, I had to go down to the MTO office (“DMV” for our American friends) to renew my driver’s licence and get the 2011 plate sticker for the Quotemobile. It was a pretty ordinary lineup for the middle of the day, with perhaps a dozen people ahead of me. When I got to the wicket, however, the clerk looked to be all of maybe 14. Absolutely the youngest person I’ve ever encountered in a place like that who wasn’t holding hands with mommy or daddy.
He was definitely in the right place: he’d already mastered the bureaucratic mumble, the never-make-eye-contact-with-the-client, and the dull, listless attitude. Other than his age, he looked like he’d been doing the job for decades . . . and hated it.
I felt quite sorry for him.
