Civil Servants in the Afterlife

We all remember Beetlejuice, right? For some reason, I particularly remember the line about how suicide victims are made to be civil servants in the afterlife, because being a civil servant is such a special and unique treat in hell.

Today I think I saw the first level for those still living. My honey and I are the proud owners of a 1994 Geo Prizm (yes, they still exist), a 1998 Ford Explorer, and a 1974, 12-foot AMF Puffer sailboat (a gift from a family friend) and a 2003 trailer to pull that sailboat around. Yesterday, I went to AAA (did you know that if you are a AAA member, you can by-pass the peanut line at the DMV to get your tags and driver's license? Yes, you can!) to pay property tax and get tags for the Explorer, the boat trailer and the boat. Of course, the only "bill of sale" I had for the boat was an undated Post-It saying we'd pinched the boat for $10 and the price of hauling it away, but I was in a deep state of melancholy yesterday and thus out of my right mind. After waiting 45 minutes with an impatient little angel, the nice man at AAA told me I had to register the boat and the truck with the county or some such rot. Our conversation went like this:

Him: "You have to register the boat and the truck with the Jackson County tax roll before I can help you."
Me: "Where do I go for that?"
Him: "Somewhere downtown."
Me: "What do I need to take?"
Him: "I don't know."
Me: "Who can I call? Do you know the name of the department?"
Him: "I don't know."
Me: "Thanks for your help."
Him: "Next."

So today I went downtown to deal with it. The woman assigned to help me told me the state of Missouri doesn't have "sailboat" in it's categories. This was our conversation:

Her: "Is it a bass boat?"
Me: "No. It's an AMF Puffer. It's a sailboat."
Her: "Does it have a motor?"
Me: "No, it's a sailboat."
Her: "So Rachelle, are you riding with us to Ameristar or not? Do you have a VIN number?"
Me: "No, I just have the Post-It. I think VIN numbers are post-1974."
Her: "What? No, Rachelle, we are not coming back here once we go to the buffet. I don't know if you can register this boat today or not. I don't have sailboat."
Me in my head: Listen, you chipped-nailpolish, crooked-lipliner civil servant from the inferno, get your head out of your ass and help me before the little angel spits up all over this godfosaken hellhole!
Me for real: "Can you just check for "sailboat" again?

So after an hour and a half, I returned to AAA, where the little angel did in fact spew her venom all over the waiting room floor. I got the same clerk, who did not see the humor in the situation. This was our conversation:

Him: "Well, the fine for waiting this long to register your trailor went up from $100 to $200 last year, so your total bill is $350."
Me: "What do you know?"
Little Angel: "HA!"

God bless the frickin' DMV.