Odd Jobs: Crew works behind-the-scenes to provide flawless day at polls
I’m proud of many things in my life, one of which I share with my high school government teacher, Mrs. Newhart. I’ve never missed voting in an election since turning 18. We didn’t always see eye-to-eye, especially about the C-plus grade I garnered in class, but she did impress upon me civic duty.
Well, less than 50 percent of our population votes, even in a hotly contested, multi-issue election. That’s a pretty poor percentage. You can’t get people to vote by telling them to, or bribing them to (that’s illegal), or racing them to the polls (speed limits). So let’s try something that always worked for my mother: guilt.
Right now in the Boone County Clerk’s office, there are deputies working so that if every single one of the 80,000-plus registered voters in the county should wake up on Nov. 7, wanting to impress his or her high school government teacher by voting, a ballot will be waiting. I know because this time my job was helping them prepare.
A normal day at the County Clerk’s office, 801 E. Walnut, Room 236, starts at 8 a.m. and runs until 5 p.m. In the weeks surrounding an election, though, there is no such thing as a normal day for these hourly employees. When I arrive at 8 a.m., Nancy Ray and Tammy Turner are already answering voters’ questions over the phone.
Turner is the deputy in charge of absentee ballots. She registers all requests and makes sure the appropriate ballot gets to each voter. Many ballots are delivered to people who are homebound, residing in nursing homes, living abroad, away at college or on active duty in the military. Each request is logged in the computer, and corresponding paperwork is generated.
Boys and girls, paperwork is the word of the day. It doesn’t just arrive by mail; it arrives by fax, courier, truckload and old-fashioned foot traffic. I have never in my lifetime seen so much documentation of documentation.
In addition to their assigned responsibilities, the deputies take care of walk-ins who will not be able to vote on Election Day. Kathy Cross’s primary duty is to arrange for 600 judges to work the polls. Each polling place must have an even split between the top two prevailing political parties. Each judge must then be trained in policy and how to work the two types of voting machines, the M100 and I-Vote.
Leslie Canole maps out streets, making sure each person is assigned to a particular polling place. Kenneth Canole logs defective machines, filling out paperwork to have them replaced. He shows me the procedure for providing a ballot to a walk-in voter.
One of the lock boxes holding ballots cast in the office today is full. I follow Kenneth Canole to the storage room to get another. Each end of the lid must be threaded with a serialized zip-tie lock, which is documented on a sheet corresponding to the box number. The document sheet is then slid into the box itself. I’m having trouble threading the zip-tie until he shows me I’m feeding it backwards.
Next, I drive to the building housing the machines. Gary Roberts and John Bethel are receiving shipments of ballots. We unload them onto a pallet jack. As we’re maneuvering the heavy load across the smooth concrete floor, my dress shoes slip, seeking traction. We open boxes and count the ballots inside, verifying the number shipped. Roberts pulls test ballots at random from each group. These will be run through the machines to test whether the ballots are being read correctly. They are then re-sealed with shrink wrap and marked with a sticker for the corresponding poll.
I’ll admit I kind of enjoy the shrink-wrapping section of my day. Especially because I’m freezing and the shrink-wrap gun is the sole source of heat in the warehouse. After the ballots are checked and shrink-wrapped, they are sealed in a county bag marked with the polling station identification.
As I’m returning to the clerk’s office, my nose is red and my hands slightly numb. Turner and I sort, seal and address the absentee requests for the day. Seven more ballots go out. “It varies from day to day,” she says. “Some days I have seven requests; some days I could have 70.”
At 4:15 p.m., a voter arrives. It may be the coffee, or the blood flow returning to my extremities, but I am downright gleeful. The voter seems a little taken aback by my exuberance. Under Turner’s watchful eye, I check his ID against the system, verify his address, procure his ballot, have him sign and check his absentee reason, instruct him on sealing the ballot and direct him to a voting area.
When he returns, I drop his ballot into the lock box and thank him for his patience. Even though the day is over and the doors are locked, many of the deputies are still working when I leave. It’s not a job I would want to do every day, but those who do it have my gratitude.