I’ve Done My Part
My wife, the lovely and civic minded, Dawn, and I did what they call “Early Voting,” which is like going out to dinner and eating in the kitchen before the restaurant is really open.
Given the state of local politics here in Terre Haute (That’s French for, “Call the prison and see what’s for lunch.”) there is no assurance that the winning candidate won’t be in jail on Election Day. I think that the ballot should list Names, Party Affiliation, and the number of indictments each person is under. It’s just a suggestion.
The Polling Place was staffed with a battalion of the most senior of citizens I’ve met since I was at the Social Security Office on “Free Denture Day.” Is there a rule that Poll Workers must be Ancient, Blind, and Deaf as a post?
When we got there I had to show one sweet lady my ID (Good idea), but she couldn’t read my Driver’s License.
“What does this say? Your name is what? 46?”
I told her my name, twice. She didn’t catch it the first time.
“46?” she asked me again.
“What do you mean ‘46’?” I had to ask her.
“1946 – you were born in 1946?”
“Yes, but what’s that got to do with anything?” Did she think I looked too young to vote?
After convincing her that I was at least 18 years old I got in line to wait for a free voting station. Things were moving slow. I’m not a fast walker myself, but compared to the Poll Workers I am Usain Bolt, the Olympic Sprinter. Any slower and they could all pass as statues.
When I finally got my paws on the actual voting gizmo (Touch Screen Video Monitor) things went downhill. They are using the latest technology, if you are in 1985. A Touch Screen that doesn’t work if you actually touch it. My escort to the machine handed me an orange crayon (She called it a “Stylus.”) to use instead of my finger. I tried using my finger anyway to select the idiot of my choice, but when I did it went berserk. I’d touch the button by Candidate #1 but it registered my vote by highlighting candidate #2.
Great. Just great. I had this problem last time I voted too.
It took me a few minutes to wade through the various offices up for grabs. Most of that time was involved in undoing the erroneous votes that the machine picked for me, ignoring what I was actually doing. My orange “Stylus” was getting a workout.
At the end the gizmo printed out the list of my votes. I double-checked to be sure that it wasn’t playing fast and loose with my selections.
I turned down the offer of the little sticker that said, “I Voted Today.” I already knew that I had voted and it was nobody else’s business. When some people see that sticker they feel that it gives them the right to start asking me who I voted for.
It’s not really secret anyway. That printout of my votes goes into an envelope sealed with a sticker that the first blind/deaf lady gave me when I first checked in. That sticker had my name on it.
So much for that whole “Secret” concept.
That bothers me.