Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

I expected to find converting from an out-of-province license to an Ontario driver's license an absolute joy. I'm from here. My birth certificate says so. Sort of.

"Who is this?"

"That's me. I'm me. It's me."

"The name doesn't match your, " squints skeptically, "Al-ber-ta...driver's license."

"Well, no, it wouldn't. I'm married now."

"I see. Well, I'm going to need to see your marriage certificate."

I see you, madam. I've met you in every province, although I'll admit this is a new angle.

"Okay. I'll have to go and get it, I know I have it at home."

"No, you'll need your marriage certificate. You'll have to apply for it."

"No, I'll need to get it. It's at home."

"No, I'm not talking about the scroll your minister gave you that you keep in a frame on the wall. I mean the actual legal document. You'll need to apply for that before you can drive in Ontario."

Oh, sweetie.

"Yes. I understand you are not talking about the marriage license my justice of the peace had us sign. I have the legal certificate at home in a file. With my passport, actually."

"Oh, you have your passport? That's what you should have brought."

"Can I bring that instead?"

"No, ma'am. I can't officially un-see the birth certificate, I'm afraid. So if you'll just apply for the marriage license with the province in which you were married and bring it back..."

The charming philosophical implications aside of a civil employee declaring they cannot officially un-see something, that little nugget of Vogonity seems particularly unhelpful.

"I applied for it in Ontario, in 2006, when I changed my driver's license and passport to reflect my married name."

We share a long stare, calculating stare.

"Oh."

Fingers tapping the keyboard.

"Hmmm."

Further, extended tapping.

"I see. Well. Welcome back to Ontario."
"Thanks. Honestly, it feels like I never left."