The Third Time’s the Charm

Yesterday we had local school elections. There were three people running for school board and a millage renewal. It was about as simple as a ballot could be. I did my homework and was ready to vote.  At the polling precinct, I filled out the paperwork, showed my ID, and was handled the paper ballot.

In a hurry, I did not look at the names, but rather their position on the ballot. I intended to vote for the first and third candidates.  At least they were the first and third alphabetically. Alas, the ballot was not in alphabetical order. I marked the first name on the ballot only to discover that was not one of my candidates.

I told the election official that I had made a mistake. Could I have a new ballot?  He was most accommodating, but doing so took longer than the original process of getting my ballot.  My soiled ballot needed to be saved in a special folder; to my embarrassment, after 11 1/2 hours of polling, the folder was empty.  Apparently, I was the first voting-challenged person of the day.

I cast my votes on the new ballot and went to turn it, only to be told that there was one open seat, not two.  I had spoiled my second ballot.

The process of getting a replacement ballot was repeated.  I voted the third time, this time correctly.

My bride completed her voting and picked up an “I voted” sticker.  She offered one to me. I declined, at which point the election official quipped, “He can have three!”

I’m glad she was amused; I just wanted to leave—as quickly as I could.

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