I had never been involved in a political campaign. This is my short story.
Monday, November 3rd. I was waiting for the 6:12pm train from Lawrence when I got a call from the campaign: they’re finally using the phone number I left when filling in those online donation forms. I wasn’t doing anything on a Monday night, so I agreed to join the 9pm-midnight shift of calling voters as a volunteer.
I survived walking through Chinatown’s Beech Street with 3 large Shaw’s pizzas in extra-large EXPRESS Men bags (surprisingly good pizza, big fan of the store). I figured the poor and weary troups in the Lincoln street headquarters could use some sustainance. I arrived to a scene that I had pretty much imagined: brick building where our wing had an unfinished ceiling and floor, bare columns, but about one hundred eager staffers and volunteers, all ages and sizes, sitting at round tables or pacing in between them, calling swing states. There were ice cream sundaes, a fridge full of soda, now 3 large pizzas, and plenty of Obama/Biden garb for purchase. The day before the election, I buy my first paraphanalia: 2 buttons for $5.
The goal: get out the vote. We were calling registered Democrat voters, had a script for the conversation as well as for when leaving a message. We had their name, age, gender, address, and poll address - I’m still confused as to how we got folks’ age and gender. I first called Nevada, and after the 18 on my call sheet were covered, they gave me a sheet for Montana: the first and last times I will probably ever call those area codes. We stopped at 11pm, which was 9pm Montana-time. That’s when I walked home, but the staff prepped for their last day of calls.
I must say, I do not enjoy cold calling, although these were not entirely cold since we were calling likely Obama voters. One lady even said she enjoyed the fact we were not robocalls from the other party. I offered to sound like a robot, but she declined. I only got one hostile response, and I ended up leaving lots of messages. The volunteers there seemed both bubbly and exhausted - happily hectic - optimistic and focused. There would be smiles and quick chats with neighboring callers, but then it was back to the phone and call sheets - the sense of mission in the air was palpable.
Having donated my money, I finally donated my time, twittering while investing in a share of the next night’s historic outcome.
