Tru Storie #4,795,223: Voting Errors.
I voted. My vote was anti-climactic, because I actually look over and decide the ballot hours before I go. I had a cheat sheet with all the names and proposal answers written on a lil' 3x5 card, folded and tucked in my shirt pocket. My mom pushed me to be a Cub Scout.
Unlike most people, I actually vote every year. So, unlike everyone who was like "shit I don't even know if this is the right place," I didn't have any worries. They shouldn't have had any, either, but there were plenty of confused looks and questions, despite the huge fucking sign set up by the precinct, the one right in front of them, complete with a street map and a list in big font of all streets in the precinct. Bah, fuck 'em. Yeah I know, fuck me too, I take my useless vote with a cup of srs bsnss.
There were a lot of people. A lot, like I'd never seen so many people at the precinct. Ever. News reports weren't kidding about the voter turnout. It was as if everyone was promised free tacos, and they were all coming to get their free taco coupon. Then they found out that wait times were over an hour. Then they got impatient with the line. Then voting became "I just wanna get this over with," like they were going to give birth, as they played with their cell phones, chatted up the family, friends, and neighbors, lamenting their rights.
Some fancy-shmancy well-to-do business mother ahead of me got sent two registrations in the mail, and she told the voting rep that she thought she already had some lackey do whatever about it with the city clerk. The rep called the city clerk about it. Apparently, Ms. Fancy's lackey didn't do whatever enough. City clerk told the representative to tell Ms. Fancy to get fucked ... again. For her, there would be no "I Voted" sticker.
She was having a shit fit, sitting at a round table in the middle of the big church gymnasium, with the voting rep, yelling on the cell phone, as I strolled past her in line with my finished ballot. "She's such a little bitch," Ms. Fancy said, as she hung up on the lackey. Judging from the conversation, I think that the lackey was one of Ms. Fancy's daughters ... the nut doesn't fall far from the tree?
Ms. Fancy said some more hateful things about the lackey to the voting rep, who sat there with her like a fresh doctor who really hadn't told anyone that their loved one was dead yet. The rep comforted her, and she said to Ms. Fancy, " Don't worry, we'll get your vote to count."
Sucks to be that lady. Meh, she was probably gonna vote for McCain, anyway.
