In an effort to avoid my mother's wrath, I did my civic duty and not only voted but helped in the polling place - I was very sophisticated and did something that involved pushing two buttons and tearing off a ballot number, smiling, and handing said number to the voter. Hijinks ensued, and I'm not even sure how, but I will try to enumerate the ways in which it did so.
1) People are very easily confused by pieces of paper.
Once I handed off the strip of paper with the number (hereafter referred to as the strip, for reasons unknown) people almost always stared at me in a confused fashion. I tried to tell them things I thought they might like to know or would not figure out on their own, such as the fact that the school election isn't covered under a straight-party ticket or, you know, where the booths were. Most people followed this with a blank stare and a "...where do I go?"
Um. Ma'am. There are booths there to your left. There are people voting at them. Maybe that should be a hint.
(In my head I alternated between that response and "actually, you're going to need to take this strip and head on up to Conroe with it. They'll take care of you from there. OOPS, it's 6:55. Oh well!")
Also confusing were the numbers on the strip. The ballot number is four digits long. People inevitably thought that was the booth number. How many booths do you think we have? And as an addendum to that, did you not notice the numbers on the booth? There are eight. There are not 4308. The wall does not extend, that wall is not mirrored and there are no magic portals. We are in a rec center and there are people playing volleyball outside.
2) There are only four types of businessmen.
We arrived at the polling place at 6 AM. The line outside consisted mostly of businessmen on their way to work, and within that first hour of voting I kept having the same men appear over and over.
The first is the large, red-faced Stereotypical Businessman with the overstretched polo/button-down and a large hairstyle. These men always have red hands, usually covered in band-aids (paper cuts? fights with chainsaws? who knows), scars and pockmarks. Everything about them can be described as "meaty." (Oh god, some twelve-year-old boy is going to read that and laugh for years.) They're typically lovely people, just a little loud sometimes. These men clearly golf on the weekend and are married to the ladies who play tennis at the country club.
The second is the tall, skinny, uncomfortable Should-Have-Been-In-Geek-Squad Businessman in clothes too big for him. His hands are smooth, his shoes are shiny and he mumbles uncontrollably. His shirts are usually striped, and his pants are always too short. His company nametag is always on a lanyard.
The third is the most common here - the Woodlands Businessman. They're a little too happy to see you. They're usually tall, their shoes are European in style and sleek and black, their suits are tailored and they're brash and obnoxious. They will not turn off any electronic device in their possession even if it's a misdemeanor not to do so. They always have a cup of Starbucks and a big, flashy watch. Bluetooth headsets are passe amongst them, so instead they just talk more loudly into their phones.
The last is the uncomfortably overweight, permanently rumpled Washed-Up Businessman. His Bluetooth is always present, his shirt is always stained and his hair is always dull. He smells vaguely of smoke and if a beard is present it's the unpleasant kind that looks as though a hedgehog is trying to emerge through his chin. He's genuinely happy to see you, though, and will gladly lean down and in to hear you better (and not at all subtly look at your chest).
None of these types take direction at all.
As an aside, there was one man who looked like an expensively dressed hobo that came in to vote wearing an iPod. Which he wore the whole time.
...the hell.
3) People are astonishingly easily distracted.
We had our breakfast and lunch catered in. I cannot tell you how many people wandered over to the table (halfway hidden behind the empty voting machine caddy) and stared wistfully at the food before selecting a grape and eating it, then walking away. Sometimes these people did not actually vote.
Later in the afternoon when I was considering joining the bellydancing class next door out of sheer boredom, I resorted to reading a book. If you know me, you will not be surprised to hear that this book was Killer Angels. And I swear to god I got into six seperate discussions of the Civil War (War of Northern Aggression) and how much Reconstruction sucked for the South.
...Yeah, but take the damn strip and vote, man.
4) Working for the government is a nightmare.
In order to sign in, the voter had to have at least their voter registration card or their driver's license, and sometimes they had both. They then signed the book, and the election worker gave them an official slip of paper on which was written the precinct number. This slip was then walked over three feet to me, where I immediately recycled it. I then gave them the ballot number. They then walked to the booth and voted, usually while trying to put everything away. Add a few infants hanging off their legs and maybe a cup of coffee and you've got the average voter.
Other idea: swipe your driver's license at the booth. Vote. Leave.
WOAH I AM SUCH A REVOLUTIONARY.
Also apparently some people didn't know what a voter registration card was and somehow thought I needed to keep theirs. Permanently.
5) If you got up at 4:30, by the end of the day everything either sucks or is the most hilarious thing in the history of mankind.
My mom was telling stories of my dad's taxidermy days. These stories involved a bloated frog leaking cotton eternally playing a tiny drum, a bird with a broken neck that was stuffed that way (my dad tried to fix it by putting the bird on a branch that slanted) and a raccoon that shed fur and was posed in a permanent state of surprise. My dad apparently hid behind the chairs occasionally when my parents first married and leapt out at the dogs wielding the raccoon and shouting. My mom has never been the same.
You have no idea how funny this is to me right now, and especially how funny it was right before closing. The fencing people actually asked us to close the door because we were laughing so hard.
In closing:
everyone should always early vote.
