Nicole Brodeur | Losing faith, one car tab at a time

For weeks now, Jim Powell has felt like a wanted man.

On Aug. 26, he sent a check to the state Department of Licensing (DOL), renewing his vehicle registration, which expires tomorrow.

Powell, who lives in Magnolia, spent most of September waiting for his new tabs. And as the deadline got closer, he started anxiously considering his options:

He could go in person to a DOL agency, renew his tabs there, and hope the state doesn't cash the check he mailed last month.

He could keep driving and hope that, once the deadline passes, he doesn't get stopped by police.

And if he did get stopped? He could take a day off to go to the King County Courthouse to explain his plight, probably pay a fee, get his tabs, and then wait to be refunded by the state for the first check he sent.

Then Powell came up with a third option: "Scream and shout and rant and rave."

Which is where I came in, and why you're reading this — a single taxpayer's tale that I suspect legions of you could have told.

"Why can't a county plan for this and do better than a four-week turnaround?" Powell asked me. "That's absurd!" (You can renew your vehicle license tabs through the county.)

I admit, one guy's tabs aren't as pressing as health-care reform or government bailouts. And Powell finally got his tabs in Saturday's mail — eight days before the deadline.

But his frustration speaks to a bigger issue that affects us all.

By very slooooooooowly processing Powell's registration, the state has created one more taxpayer who has lost his faith in government.

The experience has made Powell, 58, newly suspicious. He's acutely disdainful of government inefficiency, and the fact that he almost had to pay twice to do the right thing. In other words, he's had it with you people.

"I asked one county worker if I would get my first check back, and she said she didn't know," Powell said. "But, hello! Do you trust that would happen? I don't.

"The whole thing is incredibly unnerving, when this should be like clockwork."

I called DOL spokesman Brad Benfield to try to restore Powell's faith — and mine.

Benfield acknowledged that the state has been sending renewal paperwork out "a little later than usual," and then handed me the governmental equivalent of a note from his mother, explaining his tardiness.

In the 2007 legislative session, cities and counties were allowed to add a local vehicle- license fee of no more than $20 (the maximum without voter approval) to pay for local road projects.

"We've had to slow down and make sure all of that is working properly," Benfield said.

The state also has implemented a new donation system for its parks — an automatic, $5 payment, unless vehicle owners check a box declining to make the donation.

Finally, there's a hiccup in the printing of the renewal forms. For a long time, it's been done by a vendor in Utah, but it's just changed over to the state Department of Printing.

Great, I told Benfield. But why didn't you tell us, instead of letting people like Powell wonder and worry?

And what would have happened if Powell ended up paying the state twice?

"It wouldn't be a huge problem," Benfield said. Powell "would just have to fill out a form and send it in, and then we would send him another check."

How long would he have to wait for that?

"Hard to say."

Nicole Brodeur's column appears Tuesday and Friday. Reach her at 206-464-2334 or nbrodeur@seattletimes.com.

Petty was right about the waiting.