A little bit of their fault + a little bit of mine = me screwed up the hoo-hah

I got a moving violation (aka ticket) in May 2007. I completed online traffic school in September to take the point off my record. Last time I took online traffic school, the school sent my certification of completion to the court. This time they did not and I was supposed to do that. MY FAULT. I didn't realize my error until The Man put me on his insurance and wanted to know why I had a point on my record which made insuring me super expensive. A month before we got married, I called the DMV to find out if I had a point on my record. "Oh yes," the woman told me. "Let me show you which form you need to print off our website and submit with your certification of completion."
Sweet, right?
Yah. Not so effin' sweet.
I called the DMV yesterday because I never received any confirmation they received my certificate of completion and The Man wanted to give my now clean record to the insurance so they could change how much he pays. The person from the DMV told me that I wasn't supposed to send it to the DMV but to the court. I told him that one of his colleagues (because OF COURSE I didn't get the name) instructed me to fill out a specific document and mail it to Sacramento back in March.
"Yahhhhh, you weren't supposed to do that."
He told me to call the court because I should have mailed the certificate to them and they were the only ones that would be able to fix this. Then he gave me a phone number to call the court.
It didn't work.
Fan-flippin-tastic.
I call the number that the outgoing message said to call.
That didn't work.
Finally I google-ed (bless the Google) the City of Fremont Court and called. And spoke to a meeeaaan lady. She curtly said that the DMV has a policy that allows only six months to correct an error. According to their records, I had six months from October 2007. Keep in mind that had I sent the form to the court and not the DMV in March, I would have made that deadline. But I didn't. Because someone at the DMV had told me different.
Of course, the court lady could give two $hits about my predicament. She said there was nothing they could do and that I need to call the DMV.
"But I just called the DMV and they told me to call you!"
She replied (bitchily ... if that was a word) that it's the DMV's policy so I would have to take it up with them.
I called back the DMV and got someone with a thick accent. Now, I pride myself in being an open minded individual who embraces all cultures and am very understanding that with each culture there are different communication styles - I could write an entry all about that, it's really quite fascinating but off topic so back to the story - however, this man was a shouter. Which, like I just wrote, kind of goes with some communication styles of other ethnicities but this was not a time where I embraced such diversity.
It just riled me up more.
I explained the same story for the third time. He was good in the way that he shortened but repeated to me what I had said to make sure he understood. Then he told me that there was nothing the DMV could do and that it was up to the court to let re-open my case. He told me I should request to speak to a judge.
"I should what? How would I even get to see a judge?"
He said that I should tell the court my situation and ask the judge to make an exception. Because there was nothing he could do.
"Do you understand?" he asked.
I told him yes.
And then he hung up. No good luck, no good bye, no nothing. He just hung up.
Sweet Mary.
I called the court for the second time and told my story for the FOURTH time. Of course, I have to also add the information of all the conversations I had throughout the day. She told me that they no longer had my records and there wasn't a way for a judge to see me. And, as kindly as possible, she told me that I was screwed.
She actually wasn't mean and I really appreciated it. But she told me that there was nothing that the court could do and if the DMV wasn't willing to do anything, I would have this on my record until October 2010.
So that was that.
Two hours and four pain-in-my-ass calls later, there was nothing more to be done.
And now I totally get why people hate government offices like the DMV.

Note: This is from a child of a US Postal Worker. I don't necessarily hate the people but I sure hate the system.