With all due respect to our great American playwright, Eugene O'Neill, this election judge had both a great and a terrible experience when he boarded a train that would take Barack Obama to the Oval Office!
Rising before the birds, while the light was not yet visible in the east, I found myself bleary-eyed from lack of sleep - but certainly in high spirits.
For, certainly, I was looking forward to the day and what came to be its wonderfully historical results!
By nature, my natural disposition each day is one of good cheer, helpfulness, and confidence.
Perhaps it was exactly those characteristics that drew ominous fire during the course of the day and by its end!
At the inception of the day, arriving in plenty of time, with just the goodies I'd promised to bring, we began our set-up efficiently.
But as the time to open the polling site's doors approached, my Republican judge counterpart, Marty Roque, had not appeared with the ballot materials, or the necessary keys for the computerized machine.
He had, we were told, gone fishing, and Sheriffs were dispatched to his house to see if he were there or not. In truth, we were all more than a little worried that something bad had befallen him. I still haven't heard just what had happened to Marty.
Pueblo's County Clerk, Gilbert Ortiz, along with two Officers, arrived forty minutes after the scheduled opening time, with all that we required to get the show on the raod.
He also imparted some last minute instructions:
- We were to instruct each and every voter to assiduously stay within the lines on the manual ballots, when connecting the arrows, also reminding us that the topmast portion of ballot should be detached and kept separate from the ballot itself.
- We were also told to tell all voters erasures would likely result in the rejection of the ballot by the machine into which it was fed.
Indeed, these things all surely proved to be true.
Far more ballots than might be had to be marked "spoiled" in red ink, and another ballot issued, with notations for the reason.
Beyond this, many of my team counterparts cared not a whit for the practice of detaching the top strip of the form from its main part - despite what Mr. Ortiz had said. They felt it made their job just a little more cumbersome.
Poll watchers from both parties were, of course , in attendance. They wanted, as was their right, to know who had voted - and not how - which would violate our oaths as election officials - and I complied as well as possible, no matter which party - G.O.P. or Democrat - they represented.
Since two precincts voted at our site - the Pueblo West Memorial Recreation Center - I soon came to discover that precinct 102 didn't much care to offer such cooperation. When I was asked by party poll watchers what to do, I simply told them: "Look over their shoulder! They can't rightfully prevent you from doing that!"
Since my Republican counterpart had not shown up, I was placed in the position of pulling double duty. I provided forms left and right as they were needed.
Our Precinct 129, it turned out, had about five voters in the letters "A" to "M" than it did "N" to "Z." So the preponderance of voters went to my right rather than m,y left - for which reason I apportioned the ballot forms accordingly.
It's my hope I'll get to tell Mr. Ortiz that a whole lot of trouble might have been saved in the future if statistical recognition of this fact resulted in a better division of voters alphabetically!
But, throughout the day, I continued to do two men's jobs without complaint.
Perhaps, in fact, it was just that - my cheerful disposition, and willingness to help - that rankled other members of the team. For them it was all 'old hat.' I was a trespasser on their home territory, and worse than that, an assertive 'alpha' male among a team composed entirely of mostly elderly women, except for one other guy - whom I considered might be a little hen-pecked and perhaps lacking in a full set of vertebrae!
For my part it felt as though everything was going well enough. That's not to say that at some crowded moments we didn't have our share of disgruntled voters. More than one confronted me, and I replied that the lines were moving as fast as we could keep them going.
What more could I do?
Once I knew with certainty that I'd provided ample forms in advance to my right and left, I went on to sharpen pencils, when I could as well have said: "Hey, that's not my job!"
I took yet another precaution, picking up any and all pencils that had erasers attached to them.
And then, not even stopping to eat, I took a break.
But just what was it about my disappearances that smacked of any disregard or incompetence?
Nothing, insofar as I could tell!
When a person to my right disappeared without any forewarning, I stepped in to record the arriving voters, and hand out the ballots. I greeted them, as Mr. Ortiz had repeatedly said to all of us in training, not somberly, but with a smile!
So it was that voters continued to come and go.
I was called upon twice to phone the County Courthouse to help straighten out matters if a voter who said they were registered was not found upon our list, despite their insistence that they had been voting at this site several times before.
In another case, I went out to discover that a male voter had dropped his Colorado drivers license.
I promptly came back in and searched the telephone book in order to luckily find that gentleman, so he could - with great relief - retrieve it.
I know just how disconcerting such a loss of personal identification can be. I'd once lost my driver's license for three months, and didn't discover, at a local dollar store, that they'd had it all the while, and hadn't recognized me because of age and grooming - despite nearly a dozen appearances by me at their store!
And, lastly, a confused lady voter, who was perhaps a little literately challenged, asked me to explain the meaning of ballot propositions - which, I must here assert should be written in 'plain talk' rather than 'legalese.'
I'd not been prepared for this, but the supervisor soon provided the right form. So I proceeded to explain the meaning of each proposition in terms this voter could understand, and what her response would mean, whether she voted "yea" or "nay."
So, what, I ask you, the reader, could possibly be found faulty in my conduct?
Apparently, however, the rest of the team, except for the all-important supervisor, felt otherwise.
The got together during my absence, and all signed a form to lodge a grievance against me.
My response to that is a spirited, and typically southwestern "Bring it on, José!"
If that's the case, they most assuredly haven't heard the last from me - or the team supervisor, with whom I talked later at the Pueblo Union Depot election watch party.
But let's get back to the real issues, shall we?
NO voter should be denied his or her rights.
NO person casting a ballot should be met with anything less than superlative, friendly cooperation and assistance!
And, in the end, my friends, NO so-called election "judge" should have done more, or less than all that did I, in that trusted position!
So, for me it was a truly long day's journey from early morn to till the night of election's ending.
