Los Angeles –
Whenever I complained about the division in American politics, my son Henry would often encourage me to do something. Henry was a poll worker during the 2020 election at age 17. It was his first official job, and he loved the experience so much he even wrote about it in his college essays.
After Henry tragically died in an accident on August 29, 2022, I followed his lead and signed up to work in that year’s midterm elections. It may have been a mistake to commit to something so important while struggling with grief. But I threw myself fully into the work and learned through my son’s example that we can all find bipartisan ways to improve our political process and overcome divisions in our country.
Until November 2022, I had never thought about the good-natured poll workers I encountered, or the monumental efforts required to run an election.
As the “Election Coordinator” for Los Angeles County, I was responsible for auditing five polling places the week before and on Election Day. I attended a day-long training session where instructors explained voting procedures, demonstrated the electronic polling register system, handed out county-issued phones, and helped pack boxes of supplies into my trunk.
That first morning, I arrived at Westminster Avenue Elementary School in Venice at 7 a.m. when the vote center opened. By 8 p.m., I was on-site at the Venice Boys & Girls Club to help complete closing procedures. For the intervening 13 hours, I shuttled between Venice and Santa Monica, auditing each of the five polling places I was assigned to.
Were there official tables with necessary forms, flyers, and guides? Were the printers working? Was curbside voting available? Did anyone need extra temporary envelopes, posters, registration forms, “I Voted” stickers, scissors, etc.?
Everything about the job amazed me. The entire process was digitalized, and procedures were in place to keep the voting data safe. Every night, the team printed out the voting reports, counted all the ballots, and packed the machines, printers, and equipment into carts and locked them with scanned zip ties to ensure a “chain of custody.” Finally, two people had to transport the ballots to a central location, by which time it was usually close to 10 p.m.
I’m sure the other poll workers had strong political opinions, just like me, but we didn’t argue about the candidates or the endless propositions on the ballot. Everyone was calm and professional.
We were a ragtag bunch of people, ages 16 to 70, from all corners of Los Angeles. There was no storybook patriotism. There were no lofty speeches. We’d never heard the Pledge of Allegiance. But we were all part of team Democracy. And we were proud to be part of it.
My experience is consistent with data that shows that among poll workers, “among possible motivations for serving, a sense of civic duty and involvement in the electoral process were most important; demonstrating party support was the least frequently expressed motivation.”
In other words, being a poll worker has no political significance.
On Election Day, I arrived home near midnight, exhausted but satisfied. I had found a small way to support our democratic process, and it felt good. I knew Henry would be proud of me. Maybe I never stopped complaining about politics. But I had done something useful. For both of us. I plan to work the polls again this November.
