I just left the DMV in midtown Manhattan. Let’s place my current emotional state somewhere in the sixth circle of Hell (Heresy), smack dab between Anger and Violence.

In truth, it wasn’t as dreadful as you might imagine. With facilitators armed with tablets to constantly update customers on their expected wait times and plenty of city bureaucrats to process paperwork, I was in and out in around 45 minutes. But during my time there, I must have signed my name 15 times, each scrawl looking a little less legible and feeling less like a stamp of authenticity and more like an excessive burden with little meaning in a digital world.

So I ask: is the signature dead? What relevance does your John Hancock have in today’s wired society? 

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