You can’t fight City Hall.

As we hit the one-week mark until “Operation: move all of our crap,” I was tasked with going to Boston City Hall to obtain a moving permit. No, they do not charge you to move in and out of Boston…wait a minute, yes they do! This permit is for the moving company we hired to block a portion of our street in order to park their truck.

Arriving at 9am this morning and heading up to room 721 I was greeted by, you guessed it, no one. There were several people in the office that appeared to work there, but after many years working for the city, they have learned the fine art of never making eye contact with anyone from the outside world. Finally, at 9:20 a guy shows up (we will call him "Sunshine") with his city-issued Dunkin Donuts coffee and his pissy attitude and grunts, “Who’s first?”

Here is the deal. You go see Sunshine. You must show him that your moving company is bonded with the city. Then you need to give him a check for $8 for two signs. No cash. No credit cards. A check. For $8.

Sunshine does something with his computer and sends you to another office down the hall to get the permit. Mind you, I do not have the signs yet; I have to come back for them. I go to the other office and they want $20 for the permit. They take cash, cards, checks, Best Buy Bucks, whatever. I get some paperwork from these people and then go back to the original starting point. I take a seat.

Sunshine sees me and says (no lie) “You’re back already?”

When I was kid my brother and me used to read MAD magazine. They had this feature that was called “Stupid Answers to Stupid Questions.” My mind raced.

I chickened out. “Ya,” I said, “you told me to come back and get the signs.” Is it just me or do city and state workers always make you feel as though you are 10 years old?

In true bureaucratic fashion, the printer that made the signs was not working, so Sunshine wrote them out by hand. I grabbed them and beat it out of there. On the way out I also twisted my ankle pretty badly. Good times.