So I’m logged in to the customer service telephone line, and this woman comes on the phone who is very nearly hysterical because Jefferson County cannot locate her divorce record from her second marriage, and she’s been married two times since then, and maybe she’s a bigamist because she doesn’t know if she is really divorced or not. I politely tell her I have nothing whatsoever to do with her goddamn divorce record, but will be happy to try to guide her in the correct direction for assistance. Does she know what date she was divorced? Oh no, she DOESN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT YEAR SHE GOT DIVORCED. Because her marriage was so sacred, apparently, that she never bothered to see if she actually got legally out of it.
“Was there a lawyer involved?” I asked her, because this event apparently occurred sometime in the 70s or 80s and people still used lawyers to handle their divorces back then, instead of just filling out the form themselves online like they do now, because marriage is so sacred to straight people that they demand the convenience of filling out a form online to end it.
Yes, she tells me, she had a lawyer, and she gives me the full name and address of the lawyer and the law firm, even though I didn’t ask for the name and address and I don’t care.
“Have you called the lawyer’s office? They could verify for you the exact date the divorce was filed, tell you what county it was actually filed in, and even tell you the exact date of the divorce” says I.
She tells me she already called them but they’re all out to lunch right now. “Then perhaps you should GET THE F**K OFF MY TELEPHONE AND WAIT A F**KING HALF HOUR AND CALL THEM BACK INSTEAD OF SHRIEKING AT ME, ESPECIALLY SINCE I TOLD YOU 15 MINUTES AGO MY AGENCY HAS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR GODDAMN DIVORCE!”
This bitch though marriage was so sacred that she did it four times, and now apparently has to prove her successive attempts at holy matrimony for someone official, but feels perfectly fine voting that “marriage = one man + one woman” and F**K YOU. And, she feels perfectly comfortable calling a state agency that has nothing to do with her miserable f**king marriages and divorces and squalling at me, because maybe she thinks her tax dollars pay my salary and therefore entitle her to treat me like shit, but in fact my agency Generates funds for the state and pays for programs and services so that her fairly low tax rate stays low, so I feel entitled to call her a BITCH, but of course, Human Resources had me upstairs in yet another meeting within 20 minutes and I’m pretty sure they must be monitoring my calls.