WORK. THAT. POLL.

So, guys, democracy is still standing, and I’m happy to say that we are not the only nerds supporting it shoulder to shoulder.

Here’s how it went

This weekend I completed online election training, one of those stultifying two-hour slideshows that requires a mouse click every twenty seconds. (I did it while applying iron-on vinyl to t-shirts for my handbell choir, which is performing in a festival this Saturday. MY TEENAGE SELF WOULD POSITIVELY DIE.)

Then, on what the county festively calls Election Eve, I packed my backpack (books, water, protein bars), prepared my outfit (mom jeans, light sweater, blazer for professionalism), and set my alarm clock for the last possible moment. By 5:50am on Election Day, I was walking, coffee in hand, to the elementary school at the top of the hill, where a little troupe of adults was gathered in the dark.

They were my partners:

• D, the Election Judge, a no-nonsense woman who’s lived in the neighborhood her whole life and has run this precinct for twenty years (per regulations, she sat alone at a table next to the ballot scanner, so we didn't get to talk much);
• A, a buoyant and brilliant 31-year-old programmer; and
• B, an also-brilliant 35-year-old HR director who reminded me of my friend Rosie’s husband.

We were a capable and extremely fun team!

The hour before the polls opened at 7 was all quiet bustle. In the school's gymnatorium (big Abbott Elementary vibes), we set up tables and privacy screens and the ballot scanner. I taped about six hundred notices to the walls, next to third-graders’ Interesting Facts posters about famous athletes. (FACT: Simone Biles is afraid of bees!) In a moment I’ve been preparing for my whole life, I was invited to tab the poll binder. I did a bang-up job.

And then, at 7:00, the polls opened, and…it remained extremely quiet. For thirteen hours. During those thirteen hours, we fielded 72 voters (not for nothing, the exact number predicted by D), or less than 20% of those registered in the precinct. (!!!)

We read our books; some of us took smoke breaks; we learned plagiarized facts about athletes (Barry Sanders: “one of the game’s most electrifying runners”); we drank two Starbucks runs' worth of coffee and ate pizza.

We talked about

• our nieces and nephews
• why robots can’t fold laundry
• Saskatchewan
• sparkly dresses for weddings
• sparkly dresses for Election Day
• democracy (DID I TAKE NOTES ON OUR CONVERSATIONS ABOUT CALLING REPS OH YOU BET I DID).

Each time a voter arrived, A and B and I stood up in unison and (maybe too enthusiastically, but very efficiently) welcomed and processed them.

Our moment of highest drama was when someone had to vote via provisional ballot, for a boring reason, and HOLY HELL THE PAPERWORK. I will simply report that no election official in their right mind would commit fraud via provisional ballot, because that fraud would require the reading and rereading of 106 bullet points, a flurry of envelopes, and at least twelve recounts.

At 7:00 pm, with the air of a four-star general or the longtime manager of a Papa John’s, D assigned the rest of us closing tasks to be undertaken at precisely 8:00. (Had anyone been in line at 8, we would have served them joyfully; however, the very idea of a “line” was nothing more than a pipe dream.) Once the clock hit 8, we MOVED. The Provisional Ballot’s nonsense notwithstanding, we finished closing at what D termed “eight thirty-fucking-three.” She drove the ballots to a collection point, and the rest of us trickled off home. THE END.

Takeaways

• Voting is effective, especially in these quiet primary elections where crucial local choices are made by a small number of people. If you vote and remind your friends to vote in every election, you can become a critical mass without too much effort.
• Democratic practices are banal and careful. We hand-wrote lists in duplicate and triplicate. We counted and counted and recounted. At the end of the night, we taped to the door of the gym a receipt to prove the ballot scanner’s functionality: there it was, waving merrily in the breeze for anyone—or no one—to inspect.
• Elections need more PAGEANTRY. More FUN. According to historian David Moss, American elections during the nineteenth century had an “almost carnival atmosphere,” which is, I'm sorry to say, not achieved by the “I Voted” sticker. A, B, and I are considering dressing in semi-formal attire for the November election, to add a sense of occasion. Maybe asking not, “would you like a sticker?” but, “would you like a sash?” or “would you like a tiara?” Election Day should be a national holiday. It should be celebratory and festive. I’m not sure how to make this happen.

Things to know

• Take a book. If you’re neurotic, take two books of varying speeds. My coworkers were reading Anna Karenina and House of Leaves, because God thoughtfully put me on the nerd team—but sudoku would also be fine. Don’t take a laptop. Our boss noted—sensibly!—that voters feel queasy if they see poll workers using computers. Even if you’re playing Wordle, it looks like you might be Fixing The Election.
• If you’re not working at your own polling place, request an absentee ballot. Hollen texted to ask whether, like communion servers, we administered each other the vote at the end of the day WHICH IS SO BEAUTIFUL but also: no. I ended up walking home to vote during my one-hour afternoon break, and my coworker drove home to do the same. NBD—but next time I’ll vote absentee.
• I made ONE HUNDRED FIFTY DOLLARS (plus another twenty for completing the training)—basically minimum wage, with overtime.

The upshot

If I can manage it, I'll do it again, and I recommend it to y'all! It’s a looong day, but it was fun and not difficult; voters were very kind; and, you know, democracy!

HOW CAN WE ADD PAGEANTRY AND FUN? xoxo