A Polling Place Story

Tuesday, November 6th, 2018. Placerville, CA. Polling place #320:

I walk in the conference room where polling is taking place for the mid-terms. Directly in front of me is a long table with a woman sitting behind it helping a man in a wheelchair. Another table is situated to the left of her, angling at about 45° with two more woman sitting attentively. A sign reading "A" is hanging off the front of it. Yet another table, to the left of the "A" table, is to its left again. Two more people are at that one, a woman on the left and a young man to her left. This woman greets me ...

"Hello! Can I help you?" she asks me.

"Hello yourself! Yes ... I'm here to vote" I tell her.

"I notice you have a mail-in ballot" she observes.

"I do! I have a question about that afterward. Now, I see an 'A' and a 'B' table but I don't see any 'N' table for me so ... where do I go?" I ask. Out of the corner of my eye I notice the woman at Table "A" shaking her head back and forth at my conversation in an "Oh, brother ... one of them" sort of ways. I turn to look at her and she quickly looks down at her charts, half concealing a sneer.

"Start at that first table when you walked in. That lady will get you on your way" the woman at Table "B" informs me cheerfully.

"Thank you" I respond and wait for the woman working with the handicapped gentleman finish.

In moments, she gets me checked in and directs me to Table "B." I walk past Table "A" and the sneering woman and look at her once again, but she still has her head down and won't look at me to save her life. I guess I'm just too much of a ball of fire for her to pay me any mind. Again I approach Table "B" and speak with the personable woman who first greeted me. She repeats my name - as she heard it when I checked in - finds my name, flips her chart around and asks me to sign beside my name. She hands me my ballot.

"Here you go. Behind you is seating so you can vote. Now ... you had a question about the mail-in ballot you brought with you?"

"Thank you ... and yes, I do. Can I drop this off here?"

"Yes. It's signed by the addressee, dated and you've signed it as well?"

"Yes ma'am to all three" I inform her.

"That box, right over there beside the ballot box ... that's where you deposit it" I'm told.

"Terrific!" I walk over, drop the mail-in ballot in its box and go vote.

I'm done in 30 seconds, get up from my seat and hold up my ballot. "This receptacle here?" I ask before depositing my completed ballot.

"Wow!" Table "B" woman exclaims "That was fast!"

"I don't fool around" I tell her. "This isn't my first rodeo, you know ..." She smiles at me. I snag my complimentary "I Voted!" sticker and waved as I strolled my way to the exit: "Have a good rest of a voting afternoon!"

As I walk out, I turn directly at The Sneering Woman at Table "A" one last time, ready to flash her a "I don't know what your problem is, lady, but you volunteered to perform with this circus and the adoring public who come knocking at its door so you better suck it up and work it until the very end" look but, once more, she's looking at her charts, doing everything in her power to avoid me. I almost stopped to ask her an annoying question or two but my mere presence appeared to have already accomplished that. I didn't need to do anything further.

I had to wonder, though: Why the hell was the woman working a polling station knowing she's going to get all kinds of personalities walking through the door if she's not ready to take on all comers? It's not as if I was a pain in the ass or anything. The last few years I've volunteered myself to work the elections and I well knew I needed to pull up my suspenders, make certain my underwear were straight and secure and put on a happy face.


I'll never know the answer to what her problem was. And I'm okay with that ...

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP )

Translation: Ir Voto

Tomorrow I work the polls for the California Statewide Direct Primary Election.

And I don't mind admitting: I'm a little bit frightened about it.

Don't get me wrong: It's not the election itself I'm frightened about. Nor being face to face with any voters who come in. The long hours? Pish, posh ... not a worry. Possible boredom? Nah ... I'll have pad and paper at the ready during any lulls. I'm good.

It's some of the people I may be working with I'm sketchy about. Let me give you a few for instances ...

During training, I had some questions of the speaker conducting the class. I raised my hand and asked my questions as they came up, one of which was:

"In the event of a person registered to vote doesn't have their California driver's license for identification or doesn't have one at all or doesn't know their social security number, are they allowed to vote provisionally?"

Simple enough, right? But ... not 10 minutes later, another question arose from a lady sitting a few seats to my left:

"What happens if someone doesn't have their license or their social security card to show you?"

Really? Was this woman paying attention during training? Was she there to actually learn anything with the goal of working on election day? Or was she there simply for the freshly-made blueberry donuts and a second cup of Joe? I stared at her for sometime in disbelief.

More interesting still came the aftermath of discussion about those who didn't speak English or who may be more comfortable voting in Spanish. I was surprised to hear the response after the training speaker announced those folks would indeed be allowed to vote in Spanish, that it need not be in English.

Hearing this, there was a hushed but audible hiss in the room from various folks. Wow. I was genuinely taken aback by such an outburst, quiet though it was. Just as surprising were the low murmurs I heard complaining "If they're voting they need to do it in English!" and other similar comments.

These were some of the people overseeing the polls? I would be working alongside many who could potentially be called upon to assist voters in need, even if it was assistance on a non-English request? Would they react similarly if a voter was handicapped? Something else?

Voters have rights about this sort of stuff, don't they?  Rights about a safe haven to vote, free from intimidation and influence and all that jazz. Right?

You bet your bippy they do.

Sure enough, not only is there a Voter Bill Of Rights readily available but doubly so on California Secretary of State Debra Bowen's website:

• Item #1: "You have the right to cast a ballot if you are a valid registered voter. A valid registered voter means a United States citizen who is a resident in this state, who is at least 18 years of age and not in prison or on parole for conviction of a felony, and who is registered to vote at his or her current residence address."
• Item #8: "You have the right to election materials in another language, if there are sufficient residents in your precinct to warrant production."

Rights such as these (and others) seemed common sense to me, especially if folks visiting the polls are registered voters. 

So ... could there be drama at the old polling place Tuesday? There very well could be.

And not only am I curious to see what goings on could raise their ugly heads, I'm just a wee bit frightened of what my reaction might be toward any of those motorhead workers ...

.......... Ruprecht ( STOP with your prejudiced belly-achin' already ... ) 622