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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/738088-The-Mystery-Voter
Rated: 18+ · Book · Writing · #1677545
"Putting on the Game Face"
#738088 added October 29, 2011 at 7:13am
Restrictions: None
The Mystery Voter
The Mystery Voter

I must have hit a vein with the Human Interest Stories. I have another one from the Town Hall that I thought was pretty cool.

I told you about “Carol” yesterday and how she is a stickler. “The Devil’s in the Details,” must be her mantra. She keeps an eye on me because she thinks I’m a flake but I keep them entertained and none of these ladies, who are more qualified to be “Chief Inspector,” want the job. What this means is that I get the final say on questions of who gets to vote or not, when we get into a gray area.

Now my view on questionable voters is try and find a way to allow them to vote. I mean our township is not Chicago or Milwaukee. The people tend to be pretty honest and upstanding. Its one thing if a busload of strangers were ever to show up, falsely claiming to be residents but one person walking throught the door... get real. Still, Carol is a stickler for the fine print.

One of these rules is that if a person walks in claiming to be a resident of the township, that nobody can vouch for, they have to bring proof of residency. It can be a photo ID or a bill with their name on it but some proof that they actually reside in the jurisdiction. So we had this young woman walk in and want to vote.

“Do you live in Lincoln Township?” I asked. “Yes,” she replied and pointed out on the township map the vicinity of where she was residing. “Do you have ID?” I asked next, “or some other form of documentation?

“I have my driver’s license, ” she replied…

Now things get real boring at times in the town hall and the poll workers, especially Carol were hanging on every word. to see how I handled the situation.

“…however it shows the address of where I lived before I moved here.”

Now this woman looked honest and not like someone trying to beat the system, so I went ahead and registered her at the new voter table. She proceeded to vote and left.

As soon as she departed Carol spoke up. “You should not have allowed her to vote!”

“Why not?” I answered

“Because you had no way of knowing if she was telling the truth. The law is very specific… no proof no vote.”

“We’re here to facilitate the voting process, not stymie it.” I replied defensively. “She had a valid drivers license. It has a unique serial number. If she tries voting somewhere else, the computer will catch her and she’ll face criminal prosecution.“

“You screwed up,” came Carol’s retort, “…admit it. You let her vote because she was pretty and flashed her eyes at you.”

“Did not,” I answered turning red.

“No fool like an old fool…“ she went on, shaking her head.

“I’ll tell you what,” I offered… “I’ll write the incident up in the log and we’ll ask Martha, (the town clerk) when she comes back this this evening, which of us is correct.”

So I wrote the incident up.

Now our Town Clerk (Martha) knows everybody in the Town, the County and half the people in the State. That, plus every nuance of voting laws, regulations, and procedures. So when she showed up Carol was quick to explain what I had done. I’ll admit she did a fair job with the facts and when the explanation was over, Martha looked askance in my direction. “Is what she says true?”

I hung my head and nodded yes. I knew exactly at that moment how Joe must have felt. (Yesterday’s blog)

“Well let me just say that your decision was incorrect,” she said in a loud and officious voice. Carol’s eyes gleamed.

“Now I’m going to have to go to the County and explain how we messed up. This error reflects on all of us and I just hate it when we make a mistake and I have to ‘fess up to Millie Hamilton. (County Clerk) Now show me again where this woman claims to be living. “

I pointed the general location.

“That’s close to where I live… Like I don’t know who my neighbors are… Sheesh!” She exhaled, biting back her frustration..

I felt lower than whale poop.

“What was the address she wrote down on the registration?”

I showed her the address.

Her eyes bulged…“That can’t be,” she stammered. “

“Why not? I asked.

“That’s the old homestead my husband and I lived on when we first married. It’s on the back of our property. My son lives there now.”

“Hmmmm, Fancy that,” I replied.

“Just a minute,” she said punching numbers on her cell phone…“Just a minute.”

She stepped outside and I heard one side of an animated conversation…

She came back inside shaking her head.

“That was my son and the mystery voter is a girl he has living with him… Now that’s an unexpected surprise.”

“Sorry ’bout that. “I offered... (Glad I wasn't in Josh's shoes.)

“Wasn’t your fault,…Guess I’ll just have to put another setting at the Thanksgiving table. “

© Copyright 2011 percy goodfellow (UN: trebor at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
percy goodfellow has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/738088-The-Mystery-Voter