MAKING IT COUNT

“They” say that to keep your brain in tip top shape you need to keep challenging it with new stuff.  I consider this good advice and am the kind of person who reads thought provoking books, pays attention to world affairs, and loves to go places and do things.  By these ‘keep it active’ standards of healthy brains mine should be in top notch shape, but lately I’m not so sure.

I forget why I walked into a room.  I get lost in the middle of a sentence.  I can’t find my car in a parking lot.  I can’t keep my kids’ names straight.

Okay.  Okay.  I’ve had trouble with all of these things for decades, but now that I’m in my early sixties they are a bit more worrying.  I’ve always said that all I need is a few more gigabytes of memory installed and I’ll be fine, but the joke is not ringing as funny as it used to.

At any rate, when I was asked if I would like to be a Deputy Returning Officer for the election, I said yes.  I would be learning new things, serving my community, and experiencing the electoral process from the other side of the table.  Not only would I receive a pay check for the day, but think of all the exercise my poor, flabby brain cells were going to get out of it!  I signed up with a bunch of other local folks for this new adventure.

 We began with training a few days before the big day.  I use the term ‘training’ loosely here because the instructor who showed up presented us with everything we would need on Election Day but did a very poor job of telling us what we were going to do with it.  Thank goodness the workbooks we were given did detail the duties very well, but if her job was to instill confidence in the trainees she missed the mark.  I’ve attended countless training sessions over my work life; the last thing attendees are asked to do is fill out a feedback sheet on the trainer and material.  This was one time I really had an opinion to state and there was no opportunity to give one.

Regardless, Monday October 21 dawned and we made our way to our polling stations.  Actually, we were there well before the dawn happened.  In order for the polls to open at 7:30 we had to be setting up by 6:30, and in order for that to happen I had to be up at 5:30.  My poor, flabby brain cells were already in a state of shock.

The many many forms and lists and information and materials we needed were stored in the ballot box so that had to be unsealed, emptied, double checked, and resealed.  Our table was arranged as per the guide’s instructions, the signage was set up, the voter’s screen positioned, and finally our CPS was called over to inspect that we had done it right.  At 7:30 the doors opened and we were in business.

Each polling station was staffed with a DRO and a polling clerk.  There were times when two people didn’t seem like enough, but there were also stretches of time when we only had a half dozen voters per hour.  It didn’t take long to get into the rhythym of duties, but just when we thought we had it under control some offbeat circumstance would pop up and we would have to fill out a correction form to change an address or a registration for someone who didn’t appear on the voter’s list. 

It wasn’t hard work.  But it was long work.

On the whole it was a good day.  We had organized a pot luck lunch approach to feeding ourselves – there was soup and buns, taco salad, carrot sticks, and muffins and cookies plus a big pot of coffee to keep us going.  I was surprised by when the busiest times were – 9:00 to 11:00 being the craziest, and then the noon hour being almost empty.  The afternoon lagged long and gave us lots of time to bond with our co-workers before it picked up again with the crowd who had chosen to vote after work.  The last couple hours before the polls closed were the longest – slow traffic and now exhausted, poor, flabby brain cells to work with.

Still, the approaching magic hour of closing and counting was a little intimidating.  We had mastered the voting part – each voter had taken care of their end of it.  Now it was up to us to make sure that those votes were counted and recorded correctly.  I told my poor, flabby brain cells that we were in the home stretch, and promised them I wouldn’t do anything strenuous to them for at least a week.  (I lied, of course, it’s only been two days and here I am at my computer, writing.)

One step at a time we balanced the number of voters with the number of ballots used, and when we were sure there was nothing missing we set up for the count.  That went very well too so we recorded our results and gave them to the CPS who phoned them in to Elections Canada. 

My brain cells were all limping for the EXIT door by this time but the night wasn’t over yet.  The backup paperwork had to be filled in and filed, then sorted and sealed, initialed and consolidated with the other polls to be returned to Elections Canada the next day.  Elvis left the building at 10:00.

I had put in a 15 ½ day for the election and yet had to ask my husband how it had turned out when I got home.  The results weren’t what I would have chosen but I was too tired to care.  I took my poor, flabby brain cells to bed.

They had their revenge though; it took them at least another hour to settle down so I could go to sleep.  And they’ve been whinging and moaning about their sore, aching muscles ever since.

Obviously I need to push them harder.  No wonder I can’t keep my kids’ names straight.