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Mondays are not my favorite days. Last week was no exception.

The rain was enough of a downer, but on top of that, a have-to trip to the driver testing center was necessary. When I say “have-to” trip, it really was. Monday was my birthday and my license expired that day.

I had received the renewal form in plenty of time to have already done my duty as a citizen of the state of Tennessee. What I didn't notice was that I couldn't renew online as I had the last time. No, I had to have a new photo and a new license, which meant a trip to the center.

With thoughts of all the horror stories I've heard about license renewals dancing in my head, I walked into the center prepared to either be ignored, rudely dismissed or made to wait for hours. When I saw a room completely full of others on the same mission — sitting, waiting, hoping for freedom to come quickly — I just knew this was going to be a Monday to beat all Mondays.

The first person I encountered was very gracious. She asked me what I needed, I told her, and she immediately said, “Linda, are you comfortable with computers?” I said, a little warily, “I may as well be,” and she explained that I could save a lot of time by entering my information into the computer at the kiosk set up in one corner of the room. “Otherwise it will be over an hour,” she said.

“I'll take the computer,” I replied, eyeing the full house already waiting.

She warned me to take my time answering the questions and not to be impatient with the slow computer. After answering some general questions I would be asked to use a credit card to pay for my renewal before going to another station to have my smiling face captured on the new license.

How hard could that be?

I hope nobody else was waiting on the computer. It was as slow as smoke off cold cow manure. As I was warned, the poor thing did wheeze and churn a bit whenever I clicked “Next,” but what really took so long was that at various points along the way, the computer simply stopped. I mean, stopped dead, as in kicking me completely out and then telling me there was an error and to inform someone immediately if I continued to have problems.

Oh, no, this is not happening, I groaned to myself. Being the stubborn sort, I was determined I'd get that sucker to work, if I had to sit there until every other person had been served and the doors locked for the day.

Round 1 went to the computer. I made it as far as the address screen before getting kicked out. Round 2: Computer apparently did not like my name. Round 3: What do you mean, my information doesn't match any known driver in Tennessee? Round 4: Now, we're making progress — until computer tells me it can't complete my change of address. Duh, we aren't changing our address.

Round 5: I'm looking around, hoping nobody else is waiting on this piece of satanic crap, entering my information yet again. What's that? I'm actually at the payment screen? Hallelujah, praise the Lord! Free at last!

I exited the kiosk and dutifully took a seat with the rest of the folks. It would be only a few minutes before I was called to the photo station to grimace at the camera. The lady here was gracious as well. “Is my hair sticking up?” I asked, having been in fairly high winds walking to the door and then pulling my hair out in the computer kiosk. “No, you look fine,” she assured me.

Snap.

A few more minutes to process the information and print the license, and I was asked to check it for accuracy. “The info is OK, but I look drunk,” I pointed out. “Well, consider where you are,” the lady said. We both grinned, and I left after thanking her for her help.

The whole process was relatively painless, which I announced when I got to the office. I even showed the gang my new mug before I settled down to work.

I turned my computer on, logged on and started checking e-mail — and immediately got kicked out of the system. ...

Linda Albert is Women's Times editor and a staff writer for The Daily Times. Her column runs every Sunday in the Women's Times section. You may contact her at 981-1168 or linda.albert@thedailytimes.com, or follow her on Twitter: www.twitter.com/lalbert_editor.