Last week, my 15-year-old daughter graduated from civics lessons to reality.
While the lofty words of James Madison and Alexander Hamilton may still echo in her head, with her first visit to an Illinois Secretary of State’s driver’s service facility she learned how government works — or doesn’t.
When I picked Gracie up after school, she came armed with her paperwork signed by her driver’s education teacher, which clears the way for her to get her learner’s permit.  
“My teacher says I only have to do a vision test – so this shouldn’t take long,” she said.
I smirked.
When we arrived at the Springfield facility on Dirksen Parkway at 2:45 p.m., there was a line stretching out the door. I had warned my daughter to bring a book and to expect a wait.
Instead, we were met by a Secretary of State police officer who told us we couldn’t stand in line. I asked why and he said it was too close to closing time.
I was flummoxed. We arrived two hours and forty-five minutes before closing.
“Next time, you need to get here earlier,” he said as he motioned us away. I responded, “This is really poor customer service.” The SOS cop shrugged and said, “It’s not my fault.”
Hellishly long waits are what Illinoisans have come to expect when it comes time to renew a driver’s license.
This isn’t the case everywhere. According to the New York Times, 39 state departments of motor vehicles are now open only for folks who have appointments.

But you guessed it, Illinois is one of the 11 states that doesn’t take appointments.
Henry Haupt, a spokesman for the Secretary of State, said officials within his office also are contemplating a switch to reservations only.  
“Right now, if someone shows up at one of our facilities, they usually can get what they need done the same day. If we switch to a reservation system, people will have to wait to have their needs met.”
Haupt assures me my daughter’s experience of being turned away hours from closing time is an anomaly.
“For whatever reason, that was an unusually busy day. We don’t want to have a situation where someone waits in line for hours and then is turned away,” he said. “After all, our employees have to get home to their families too.”
The day after being turned away, I picked my daughter up at school again. I called the Klein Street facility in Springfield to see how long their line was. The phone rang more than 20 times and no one answered.
I called Taylorville and asked how long the wait was and an employee responded, “How should I know?” I asked, “Well, is the line going outside? Her response: “It’s always going outside.”
I then called Jacksonville and was told, “Come on over, we have only a few people in line.”
The already black sky thundered.
“Daddy, it’s going to rain,” my daughter said with a bit of trepidation.
“That’s good, Dear. Nobody wants to wait in the rain and the line will be shorter.”
Sure enough, Klein Street’s queue had withered down to a few folks anxiously eyeing the sky.  And she got her permit within 45 minutes.
Did we feel like valued customers while we waited? Not really. It’s a tough job.
While in college, I spent a summer working at Galesburg’s driver’s facility. After nearly 40 years in the workforce, I can tell you those three months as a secretary of state clerk were rough.
I got hollered at by customers on a near daily basis. I operated the camera. And believe me, no one likes their driver’s license photo. I can’t imagine working there year after year.
Still there is a difference between customer service in government and business. One competes for you. The other exists for you.
For example, this past week, I stopped by Cafe Moxo in Springfield to get some takeout. An employee asked if I was still planning on coming in on Thursday mornings with some friends. I told him we were.
He said that’s good because they are erecting a large tent with heaters in front of the restaurant. He said they are discontinuing their “everything biscuits,” which I always have for breakfast. But he added that they would bake one just for me if my friends and I promised to come.
I left the restaurant thinking, “Why can’t government operate more like this?”

Scott Reeder is a veteran statehouse journalist and a freelance reporter. ScottReeder1965@gmail.com.