Once upon a paperwork-laden time, I traded a dream of palm trees and pixie dust for a cubicle and a conveyor belt. I was this close to heading off to the Disney College Program—bags nearly packed, dreams bubbling like Main Street soda pop—when my ex-husband nudged me toward a job in a government office. “It’s more money,” he said. “We can get a house,” he said. And just like that, I shelved my Dole Whip fantasy and joined state government.

Little did I know I was about to thrive in the most unexpected of places: Renewal by Mail (RBM)—a hidden gem inside the Secretary of State. Think Hogwarts, but instead of wands, we had remittance processors. 🧙‍♀️

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Level One: ✉️ Envelope Gremlin

I started as a student worker, feeding renewal letters into a machine while jamming out to everything from The Pretty Reckless to Twenty One Pilots. It was mindless but oddly peaceful—like adult nap time with a purpose.

Then I got The Tap™ from our boss:
“Wanna help with insurance?”

Spoiler: I did want to help. I was a go-getter. I learned how to verify sketchy insurance cards—aka sniff out fraud like a human lie detector in Chuck Taylors. That gig earned me a golden ticket to assist the Insurance Fraud Prevention Unit (IFP), and suddenly I was being borrowed like the last working pen in the office. I racked up so much OT, I could’ve bought the office a vending machine. But, instead, I banked the time for my annual autumn trips. 🍂

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Level Two: 🎟️ The DMV RPG Continues

Once full-time, I hit the RBM buffet and tried every flavor:

• Manual Processing: High-volume bulk and priority renewals. Sometimes pulled into the plate room, slapping stickers on metal like a postal DJ.
• Phone Center: Torture. Pure. Torture. People waited HOURS just to scream at me because my colleague transferred them. Still, I became that girl—the one who solved the problem, made it make sense, and got them off the line with their sanity mostly intact.
• BOS Transactions (IT): When automation failed, I jumped in and made the system tap out.
• Remittance Processor: Fed thousands of pieces of mail through a machine faster than a kid through Halloween candy.
• Typist: My favorite post—aka the secret lead role with zero title or pay. I handled the trickiest stuff, on Access databases and DOS-based relics to the disaster known as BAM. I fielded emails, took on complex cases, and got to tour the prison plate shop (yes, that’s a thing).

And then came the final boss: CARS. 🚗💥

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Level Three: 💻 CARS Chaos & DMV Sorcery

When our office was asked who wanted to be the CARS expert user, my ex-husband’s cousin passed and recommended me for the role.

In the beginning, we were all assigned “How To” topics as a warm-up for the CARS project—mini-presentations meant to ease us in. While most people went the predictable route, I couldn’t not make it a performance. My topic? How to Open a Bag of Chips. And naturally, I opened with full Snape energy, sweeping to the front of the class and announcing:

“I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even…teach you how to open a bag of chips!”

Because if I’m going to teach you about chips, I’m going to do it in character. 🖤

🎭 Dramatic entrances are my brand.

After that, I didn’t just use CARS—I built the training in their sandbox environment. I designed a course, taught it, and led my coworkers into battle during one of the most chaotic system launches in State history.

The launch? Pure mayhem. Think: tech issues, panicked coworkers, help desk tickets flying like confetti at a wedding, and me, dead center, turning glitches into gold. I was the glitch witch. The systems siren. The DMV Hermione.

Every time my name popped up on my buddy’s screen across departments, I could practically hear him sigh: “What now?” But we worked magic together. Problems got solved. Fast. 🎩✨

The Final Act: 🪄 Know Your Worth

After mastering every role, running classrooms, and surviving CARSpocalypse, I asked for a well-earned promotion to an 8 (Senior Worker). They said no. Told me to drop it. So I did—drop them, that is.

I learned plate room just to be thorough, but I knew my story there was ending. I applied to other jobs and closed the chapter with middle fingers in spirit.

🎤 Looking Back

This position gave me experience, growth, and a hell of a glow-up—professionally and personally.

I didn’t get the fairytale ending, but I built something better:
my own queendom—one mail bin at a time. 👑📬💪