Story Time

Four years (and 5 days ago) I worked the polls as an election official. I think my official title was "Election Customer Service Official" or something along those lines. Basically my job was to check driver's liscences' and resolve any discrepencies between voters and what the hard list with some PDA that never really quite worked and that wasn't hooked up to the internet, so I'm not even sure what good it ever would've done. Thankfully, we didn't have suspicious characters and most of the voters even brought their registration cards.
At the time I was attending college in a relatively rural part of Missouri. If my college town was what we'll call rural, then the surrounding areas were neighbors only with nature herself.
I was taking a class that required a certain amount of volunteer hours, and as it was an election year, there was no shortage of opportunities. I won't get into the politics of that year, because I'm still reeling from the overexposure. And its still why I try my darndest to continue to swear them off.
Anyway, my teacher had some contacts in the election official's office and they needed people to be Customer Service Officials for this genius new high-tech (cough) process. The training at the local bingo lodge (temporary building anyone?) would count for volunteer hours and the election day itself would be paid. Paid! I was a poor college kid with a dirty (cough) habits or two and needed all the money I could get into my grubby little hands and that I could hide from my parents. This was the perfect mix. I won't tell you what Uncle Sam's dollars went towards, but suffice it to say, it paid for a good time (okay, so I can't really remember, but whatever it was, I know it started off as a good time, albeit even if it didn't end that way, but thats another set of stories all together).
The polls open early and those working them have to get there even earlier. Now, this is not my first time working the polls, but it was the first in some kind of official capacity and this time around didn't leave me sitting outside a poll with my Mother's campaign signs and pens and a friend and a bag of fun things and snacks to entertain us.
So I gather myself, coffee and some book I was convinced I would read and get ahead in class with during whatever breaks we might have. My assignment was a building used as the main gathering place for this particular part of the county. Its dark and I'm flying, because of course I'm late. I have no idea where I'm going or what I'm looking for. Theres a truck riding on my tail and in this part of the country at this hour, it is strange to see another car, much less for them to be riding up behind you. I finally find the place and as I turn into the gravel lot I see that my new found stalker pulls up behind me. Oh fabulous, he's one of the election judges. This is not some modern community town-hall-type building. Nope, its a one room school house thats been around since there were children to teach. There are OUTHOUSES to the side. Yes, full on outhouses, half-moons cut out of the doors and all. I don't see them yet, as its still so dark the moon and the stars stare down at us questioning our sanity. I wander in after my truck-stalker as he gives me some baloney about how he just knew I had to be going the same place he was (which makes no sense as to why he was tailing me so severely, but whatever). As I walk it, it is refreshingly warm. The kind of warm that hits you when you walk into your grandparent's house in the winter. The school is charming, original desks and benches scattered around and the newly installed heating system working nicely. The actual election judges are already there, setting up crockpots and hot plates and introducing themselves. Apparently they all work this same polling place every election and have a sort of routine set up for themselves. Each judge makes a dish for both breakfast and lunch/dinner: sort of a pot-luck-polling place. They are all elderly and quckly hand me a plate of some delicious breakfast casseroles and gravy and the likes of which I remember was delicious but cannot now remember precisely. I of course protest because I have come completely empty handed (I assumed I would just order in food, I had no idea how isolated we would be) but they protest and we all have a nice breakfast together. Its about this time that I notice there are no bathrooms. I wonder aloud and I'm greeted with the unpleasant explanation. I vow then and there that whatever I do, I will forbid myself from needing, nay even thinking, of having to go to the bathroom. Eventually three high school kids show up to check voters in (I still can't be sure what the election judges were for, I suppose just to make sure no one breaks the rules, whatever those may be) and in between the rushes (yes, there were actually people and, gasp!, a line at one point or another: it seems that this is the only polling place within any sort of manageable distance for many of the rural folk) the four of us play cards. Several hours in one of the judges mentions that we get a break, albeit something like 10 minutes. Thank God! The high school girl offered to let me use the bathroom at her house so we jumped in my car, buzzed over, and made it back before we got any serious scowels. The afternoon drags along slowly and the benches lining the side of the room look awfully inviting. I decide I'm going to pretend to read but "accidentally" fall asleep. I am the only one trained to do my job, so I feel mildly guilty, not to mention I always feel a little guilty when no one else is slacking or resting (okay misery loves company) but I just didn't care at that point. I think I caught 20 minutes or so before someone made a loud noise (can we say on purpose?) and I used my one-time-use-oh my goodness did I doze off??-speech. Darn. At this point I can kind of tell that the old folks are getting mildly irritated at me for not only napping but reading and actually taking my alloted absence break, but whatever. I've counted every floor plank and desk and outlet and whatever else I can't stop counting in the ONE ROOM we were stuck in the entire day. The schoolhouse is loosing its charm and so are the people I'm with. I think everyone knows the side effects of coffee. I had to use the bathroom again, and badly. I suck it up and head outside. I go in and admist shudders and just staring at the horrid site before me, I decide I can hold it and go back inside. They seem dissapointed. I decide I can't mention again that I have to go to the bathroom. But I do. So badly that I head out, fling open the door, whisk away the cobwebs and proceed to go at it, keeping both eyes peeled for insects that might decide my bum looks like prime biting ground. Ugh. I still hate the idea of that. But I sort of love that I did it. Whatever, I'm tough. Eventually 7 o'clock rolls around and its about time again to depart. We do, exchanging exhausted pleasantries with people of whom I cannot remember their names much less their faces. I head back into the darkness, glad when I finally reach the highway and even more so when I see the lights increase and know that I'm almost home. I drop off the useless PDA and stumble into bed. Whats funny is that I don't remmeber how I found out who won the election or even what I felt like. I know relieved, because I couldn't handle the naysayers anymore, but nothing that left a lasting impression. Except for the outhouses.