The Polls Are Now Closed!

One of the beauties of being a poll manager is that you get to be the one that is called upon to solve all the problems, and you get to talk to all the people that want to explain their votes to someone they don't know. Also you get paid a lot of money. (If you're the kind of person that thinks $150 is a lot of money.)

Here are a few tidbits accumulated during sixteen hours on my feet yesterday. Some of the comments could be considered electioneering, which is illegal, but whatever. I guess people don't really care about that.

"I would never vote for a woman for president. You may feel differently, but I never would. Never. Women are too emotional. They can't run this country. This country needs a man in charge."

So . . . did you vote for Hillary, or not?

"Oooohhhh, I would have been in trouble if I didn't come down here and vote for Mitt Romney today. He's my cousin!"

"Help me out, here. I've never used a computer before. I'm like a first grader."

Actually, ma'am, there are very few first graders who aren't completely comfortable with a computer. And this is a touch screen. It's not really what most people think of when they think "computer."

"Where's the tool to punch in my votes?"

It's a touch screen. There's no tool.

"What is this? I don't see one person on here I'd want to vote for."

You and me both, sister.

"Hey, I like this new computer voting. Isn't it amazing what they can do? This is great!"

That's exactly, word for word, what you said the last time you voted, sir. And the time before that.

"I know you haven't had any other Democrats here today, but I'm here now." And to me she whispered, "I'm glad there are the two of us, at least."

And my personal favorite:

Poll worker: I'm sorry ma'am. This is a closed election. As a Constitution Party member, you won't be able to vote today.

Voter: WHAT?!?! But I'm here to vote for Ron Paul!!

Poll worker motions to me to come over and solve this. Briefly explains situation to me.

Me: Are you registered to vote, ma'am?

Voter: Yes, I am. I'm here to vote for Ron Paul.

Me: Are you a registered Republican?

Voter: I was, but I changed because of what George W. Bush is doing to this country.

Me: So you're registered with the Constitution Party?

Voter: Yes, but I'm a huge Ron Paul supporter. I've worked really hard for his campaign.

Were you the one who placed an illegal sign on the grounds of the school this morning?

Me: I understand, but Constitution Party members are not able to vote today, since it's a closed election.

Voter: Well then, how am I supposed to vote for Ron Paul?

Yikes! I have to shut this woman up!

Me: You won't be able to vote for that candidate today. I'm sorry.

Voter: Well. I hope you ladies know what George Bush is doing to this country. Do you know? He supports a movement to merge this country with Mexico! A North American Alliance! That's treason!!

Me: Well, we're not really able to discuss that here, actually.

Voter: Well. I hope you are telling people about it. I hope you know about it. The things he's doing . . . THAT's why I want to vote for Ron Paul.

Me: Okay, well, I'm sorry--again--that you won't be able to vote today. Thanks for coming.

Some people were angry because they had to wait in line for half an hour to vote. I found it interesting that they could really get worked up about taking thirty minutes out of their time to exercise their rights at the polls. People in other locations had to wait two hours! Good thing those people weren't born in Africa. I guess Americans are just busier people.

Others were angry because it was a closed election, and they didn't get a chance to try and cut out the other party's favorite candidate. I'm pretty sure that's why it was a closed election. Republicans can only vote Republican, etc. Although the Dems were generous enough to let all the unaffiliated voters vote on their ticket, which basically doesn't mean anything in this state anyway.

The only voter I really missed seeing was the tatooed guy in the sleeveless sweatshirt who told me last year that he wanted to dress Osama Bin Laden up in a really nice suit. I can't remember why, but the name of Bill Clinton came up, as well as the term "firing squad." I think he may have even had Osama firing at Clinton.

Funniest voter award goes to my friend Gary, who, on his way over to the machine, whispered to me, "How do you spell 'Perot'?" I guess he changed his mind, because we didn't end up with any write-in candidates. Too bad, really.

Fourteen

Fourteen is the number of hours I spent working at the polls yesterday. In honor of that very long day, I am going to tell you fourteen things that happened.

1. ADHD guy from the Primary Election did not show up to help at the polls. This may have had something to do with the fact that when I found out he was scheduled to work with me again, I called the county and told them I would slit my wrists if he showed up at my polling place.

2. One voter showed up at 6:45 a.m. to vote. The polls do not open until 7:00. I'm pretty sure this is a law or something. She was pretty upset that we wouldn't allow her to vote until 7:00. The conversation went something like this:

Disgruntled voter: What!?! You're not going to let me vote?

Me: Well, the polls won't be open until 7:00. As soon as we open you will be able to vote.

Disgruntled voter: Well, I have to be somewhere at 7:00. So you can let me vote now, or I just won't vote, that's all.

Me: Hmm. Well that changes things a bit. Since you're in a hurry, and since I'm reasonably sure you're going to be voting straight party Republican, what the heck? Go right ahead.

Actually I didn't say that. And I didn't let her vote, either. I told her no again, and she sat there and waited for the polls to open.

3. The machines didn't work for the first half hour of the election. This made the woman mentioned above a little unhappy.

4. Because I am a genius, I jerry-rigged the voting machines. It's a long story. But I got them to work, and we didn't have to turn away any voters, like the polling location up the street did--about 200 of them. Oh, the mortification! I would have died.

5. The county wasn't too impressed with my jerry-rigging skills. I don't think they're used to dealing with smart people. The phone conversation went a little like this:

County official: Hello? Is this daltongirl? We have fixed the problem and can give you instructions on how to get your machines to work so you can get people voting.

Me (brightly): Oh, we're already letting them vote. I figured out how to make the machines work.

County official: . . .

Me (less brightly): uh . . . but if you have a new way you'd like me to use, I'd be happy to switch to that.

County official: . . .

Me (panicking): I actually asked for permission before I did this, and the person there at your office said it was okay.

County official: . . .

Me (meekly): Hello?

County official (sounding very, very tired): Just go ahead and keep doing it the way you're doing it. You're sure you're bringing up the right ballot?

Me: Oh, absolutely!

County official: Okay. Goodbye.

Me: BOO-yah!

6. I got to vote about twenty times. Here's how this works:

Become a poll manager. When old people show up and can't read the screen, they tell you to vote for them. They say, "I want to vote straight party Republican." You say, "Okay," and start pushing whatever buttons you want. Then you tell them they voted for Orrin Hatch, and they walk away happy. You walk away happy knowing they did nothing of the sort. (evil laugh--Mwahahahaha!)

In reality, this voting for others is not a very fun thing. It is a stressful thing. You may be surprised to find out that it is absolutely legal to help a voter cast their vote. Unless you are a candidate, employer, or union official. The reasons for this seem obvious. Anyway, since I was none of those, I got to help the old people. It was uncomfortable, especially when they said things like, "I don't know any of these people, and I don't know what's going on. Just vote me straight Republican!" or, "I don't have any kids in school. I want to vote 'no' on the school district bond." It was also uncomfortable because, although I was completely honest and did everything they told me to, they had no way of knowing that, because they couldn't see the screen. I hope that doesn't come back to haunt me.

7. Even though helping people vote is legal, I may have accidentally done a couple of illegal things. Like when people said they didn't understand an initiative or issue, and I paraphrased it for them. Come to find out, that isn't actually allowed. I think I did a pretty good job of keeping my descriptions unbiased, though, because almost nobody voted the way I secretly wanted them to. I know this because even though the voting machine people claim their machines are completely private, I could read peoples votes from about twelve feet away. I tried to avert my eyes, but you're not going to be able to avoid it all the time.

8. A guy found out I was a Democrat and told me to keep it under wraps. He seemed to think there were people out there who might try to hurt me.

9. Daltonboy brought me dinner. Sweet, sweet man.

10. Thirty-five percent of registered voters showed up.

11. Seventy-five percent of the voters who show up are ignorant, crazy, or both. One guy spent a very long time telling me about how he wanted to put Sadaam Hussein in a nice suit, line up all the Democrats, and tell Sadaam to "go for it." Not sure what that meant exactly, but he was darn serious. I smiled and kept my opinions to myself.

12. One of my neighbors came in to the school to pick up her kids. She may have been high on pot. Unfortunately, I'm not kidding. She asked, "How long is this going on?"

"Until 8:00," I said.

"Tonight?!" she said, incredulous.

"Yes."

"And what about tomorrow?"

"Uh, what about it?"

"Will you be here?"

"Uh . . . no. Just today."

"You're KIDDING! This is the only day I can vote?"

Well, unless you took advantage of the opportunity to vote early over the past month, yes. Today is the only day. The last day.

"Right."

She stormed out, ticked. I shook my head in the manner of one who has just been struck by a blunt object.

13. A former neighbor came to vote, bringing her little boys. The kids were excited to see me. I used to give them popsicles. I asked them how they like their new house.

"We had to move, because [other neighbor] was bad."

"Oh," I said, trying to sound interested, but not too interested.

"Okay, boys, let's go," their mom said, pulling on them.

"Yeah. He touched the girls on their private parts."

"Oh. Hmmm. Yes, that is bad," I said.

"Okay, boys, let's go," their mom said, giving me a frantic look and dragging them away before they could do any more damage.

I shook my head in the manner of one who has just been struck by a blunt object. Other neighbor and his son have the same first name. I am hoping that the bad person was indeed the four-year-old son, and not his father (who, incidentally, is the pot-smoking husband of the woman in the preceding story). That would definitely be bad.

14. About halfway through the day, a nice-looking guy in a suit came in and started talking to the assistant poll manager. From where I was, he sounded like he was with the company that manufactured the voting machines. He also looked vaguely familiar. I figured I'd seen him at one of the trainings I'd attended. I decided to get another opinion about my jerry-rigging job, and crossed the hall to talk with him. I said hi, and started in on my question: techno jumble, mumble, bumble, blah, blah, blah, so we're just wondering whether or not what we're doing is okay.

Guy: Uh, I'm not with the county election office. [shakes my hand] Chris Jones, Channel 4 News.

Me: Oh! I knew you looked familiar. So is what we're doing okay, or not?

Chris Jones (laughs): Sure, go ahead.

Me: Cool. Thanks.

And that's how I got to be on the news. I guess I was just funny enough that Chris decided to take a chance on me. Sadly, he said he was reporting from the neighboring town, instead of where he really was. Also, he forgot to actually interview me. But from what I hear, I was definitely there in the background. Somewhere.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye!

I'm back. Back to stay. Forever. I am never leaving my house again. Fortunately, most of you won't notice, since the only time we are in contact is via computer anyway.

I will share some of the details of my PTA trip later. Right now, it's time to talk about the Primary Election that was held yesterday, and at which I worked for fifteen straight hours. As it was a closed Republican election, I was not eligible to vote. I absolutely agree with that practice, by the way, but did not need to be told by one voter that it would be a good idea if they never let Democrats vote at all. I smiled and told her to have a nice day. My Republican coworkers (who were aware of my affiliation and gasped slightly when she said it) stiffly did the same.

My favorite part was where I (as poll manager) had to go out to the street and yell, at the top of my lungs, "Hear ye, hear ye! The polls are now open!"

What the heck is that all about, anyway?

Not many people voted. That meant that the poll workers, including myself, could take long naps. Unfortunately, the elementary school where we were working was short on beds. So I fashioned my own little bed out of a bench and a stack of magazines for a pillow. So very comfortable and relaxing.

The people I worked with were very nice and mostly fun. There was one man with the four of us women, who told me the story of his ADHD daughter. After spending several hours with him, I said, "She comes by it honestly, doesn't she?" He laughed and agreed wholeheartedly. This man was also possibly the second most talented person on the planet (Lola takes first place) at coming up with hypothetical catastrophies and trying to work out solutions for them.

"What if there's a tornado? How do we secure the equipment?"

or

"If a freak ball of fire suddenly comes rolling down the hall and melts our computer access cards, what should we do?"

Except for the time that he was conducting personal business on his cell phone, this man ate the entire time we were sitting there. It amazed me that he did not weigh 500 pounds.

And then, after daltonboy came to bring me dinner, ADHD man told us that, like people who have been married forever and have come to resemble one another, our eyes sparkled in a similar way. And that was so sweet that I had no choice but to love him.

The county results? Seventeen percent turnout. A Certain Congressman is still in the race. The crackpot crook who was running as his opponent received 44 percent of the votes. Read into that what you will.

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, adieu

Last time I left town I could tell people were panicking, worried, freaking out, because I left no word of where I was going or when I'd be back. (This is a rule we insist our kids respect--you'd think I would have been considerate enough to keep it myself). This having been said, I think you should know that I'll be leaving tomorrow morning and will be back next Monday night. I will be here if you need me. I probably won't have a chance to blog until at least Wednesday, because I'll be a Poll Manager for Tuesday's primary election. If nothing else, this opportunity should provide me with some blog fodder if the other does not (unlikely).

Before I go, here's a story for you. Yesterday in Primary I had to take three classes, since none of them had teachers that felt like showing up that day. I arrived at church thinking it was a day off of sorts--I had nothing to do except monitor potty breaks and collect the rolls--how very wrong I was. I had even dressed for the occassion--since the air conditioning keeps the building at subzero temperatures and I would just be sitting around, I wore a suit, nylons, and closed-toe shoes. Again, let me stress how wrong I was.

There were eleven children between the ages of four and eight, and I (not being an actual teacher) had no lesson prepared. At least four of the children present a regular behavior problem. In a semi-panic on the way to the classroom, I asked another member of the presidency to find one of the parents for me. I could just see myself breaking into a profuse sweat as the children climbed all over me, and I had no one to save me. My nice jacket would be ruined. I didn't even have a watch and had no idea when I would be set free. Maybe no one would even come to tell me. I could be there all day. So a friend of mine showed up a few minutes later with her two-year-old and one-year-old in tow. "Are you sure you want me?" she asked, as she eyed the room full of monkeys (including her daughter) skeptically.

"Yes!" I practically shrieked, as I dragged her into the room and held the door shut behind her. "Don't leave me!!" So she stayed, and ended up being an invaluable resource for retrieving paper and crayons when we ran out of lesson material ("We had this lesson last week!"), and also for watching the kids color while I ran to see if we had less than thirty minutes to go before it was time to leave. Because if you only have twenty-five minutes left, you can easily use that amount of time to do clean-up and bathroom/water fountain breaks.

Anyway, I survived, so did my friend, so did all the kids, and everything worked out. I think I was only responsible for two after-church beatings by parents, so it was a good day. The story I wanted to tell was this: One of (I say "one of," because there are several) the super-hyper-mega ADHD genius kids in the class was creating an especially raucous disturbance, wrestling with his cousin and yelling out hilarious comments. At one point, his cousin started rifling through the trash can, and they'd pull stuff out and play with it. Imagine my delight when SHM-ADHD-GK hands me a piece of paper and yells, "Hey! This says 'reverence.' Maybe you should put that up on the board so it will remind people to be quiet."

"What a great idea," I said, pinning the torn and wrinkled paper to the board.

And then he proceeded to spend the remainder of the class time yelling at other kids to read the note.

Sometimes the most obvious things go right over people's heads.

Have a lovely, lovely week.