So today I got a little political.
Barack Obama’s campaign has an actual presence in our little neck of the woods, and I’ve been in communication with the local coordinator for awhile. I’ve been to a couple of events, worked on a letter to the editor about Obama not being a Muslim (and otherwise in favor of truth-telling), and today I made some phone calls.
I had no idea what to prepare, so I tried not to imagine what it would be like.
Which worked fine right up until the time when I started imagining what it would be like:
Setting
Image: A roomful of people making calls, “generating buzz” and being part of the process of making the world a better place by helping to get someone elected who seems to have some new, better, different ideas and ways of doing things.
Reality: there were 3 of us. Two guys who are working there pretty much full-time, and me. The office was covered in hastily hung political ads, with some visual aids to help you remember what you were supposed to do.
Mission
Image: Engaging in thoughtful conversation about the two candidates and hopefully persuading someone who Obama is the better candidate.
Reality: Handed a script which basically said “Are you: 1) Supporting Obama, 2) Leaning Towards Obama, 3) Undecided, 4) Leaning Towards McCain, 5) Supporting McCain?” and then went from there, with a couple sample ideas of how to engage in conversation.
(So much for my thoughts about push-polling some anti-McCain questions: “How would you feel if you knew that McCain could only be kept alive by drinking placenta smoothies and soaking for two hours in the blood of freshly killed leggy blonde virgins?”)
The Actual Calls
Image: some for, some against, some undecided. Some upset that they are being interrupted. Some blasting off as to why Obama will ruin the country because he’s a Muslim who eats Baptist babies, some questioning how in the world McCain can have any level of support in the double digits.
Reality: I went through about 5 pages of phone numbers, and spoke to 3 actual people.
Well, that’s a slight exaggeration. I spoke to more people than that, but most of them either told me that the person I was calling for was not home, didn’t live there anymore, or I had the complete wrong number.
Then there were the answering machines.
And one that sounded like a fax machine (SCREEE-CRRRR-ZZZZ!)
One of the calls went like this (names changed because I don’t remember the actual names):
Me: “Is Edward Scissorbutt available?”
Her: “Well, he’s out in the garage.” (Imagine a voice that sounds like the deepest stereotypical white southern not-rich person you can imagine.)
Me: (Thinking: “Does she mean his body is in the garage? Did he commit suicide by running the car with the door down? Or maybe she killed him and stuffed his body in the trunk. Note to self: you’ve been watching too much CSI.”)
Her: “Ya want me ta get ‘im?”
Me: “Um” (this is not in the script) “I could call back—”
Her: “I’ll get ‘im. He’s just in the garage messin’ around.”
Me: “Ok, thanks.”
Her (to him): “You got a phone call.”
Him: “Who is it?”
Her: “I ain’t got any idea.”
Him: “Well just give it here.”
(Sounds of phone being exchanged.)
Him: “Hello?”
Me: “Is this” (oh crap who is this supposed to be? Eyes dart down the call sheet) “Edward Scissorbut?”
Him: “Well yeah.” (Note: he didn’t sound all that happy. I’m not sure if it was with me or just life, but I was bracing myself.)
Me: “Hi, my name is Tim and I’m with the Obama Biden campaign here in Ohio.” (Oh crap I forgot the next part, eyes darting along script, wait, that’s not the script, that’s the call list. Panic PANIC PANIC SAY SOMETHING ANYTHING)
Me: “Are you still at 4328 Maplewood Rd?”
Him: “Naw I’m at 83921 State Road 8334 (some other city).”
Me: “Oh, um” (shit this isn’t on the script, because this isn’t what I’m supposed to be talking to him about, what the bleep do I say next?) “Have you, um, updated your voter information?”
Him: “Nah, I ain’t done that.”
Me: (OH! I’ve got a script for this part!) “Did you know Ohio recently changed their law allowing you to vote by mail or in person anytime after September 30th?”
Him: “No I didn’t know that.”
Me: “You can vote in person at the court house” (Oh crap he doesn’t live here anymore that’s probably not where he can vote shit shit shit) “OR I could send you a vote by mail form. Would you like me to send you the vote by mail form?”
Him: “Well sure!”
(I confirmed his new address. Then I realize I haven’t asked him who he’s going to vote for. I may just have offered to send a McCain supporter a voter registration form. If he wins Ohio by one vote it will be my fault!)
Me: “So, can I ask if you’ve decided to support Senator Obama?”
Him: “Well hell yeah, I’m a Democrat.”
Me: (Whew. Ok, get out before you blow this.) “Well that’s great, I’m really excited about it. I’ll get that voter registration form to you as soon as possible. Thanks!”
Him: “Thanks buddy, good night.”
I realized then and there that I should stand up and walk out of the building, never to return. Not because I had done so poorly (which I had) but because it’s doubtful I’d ever feel better about a single call than I did right then. I helped someone vote who may not have been able to do so otherwise.
The Power.
But I knew I couldn’t do that.
I told Seth what had happened, and he told me to ring the bell.
“Oh wait,” he said, “I forgot to tell you about the bell! Whenever you get an undecided to sway towards Obama or a McCain supporter to support Obama instead, or get someone registered, you get to ring the bell.”
Me, thinking to myself: “Oh this is so juvenile. Really? A bell?”
Him: “Go ahead. Ring the bell.”
I sighed internally and rang the bell.
Dude, I’m not kidding, I felt like the angel who got his wings.
I realize it’s just a dumb psychological trick that has absolutely no redeeming value or meaning, but wow, I totally want a bell on my desk and every time I accomplish something, I’m going to ring the bell. Maybe I’ll hook it to a food dispenser and a pellet will come out or something.
I kept making calls.
And kept getting nowhere.
I was calling people who are defined as “Sporadic Democrats” which is to say that they don’t often vote, but when they do, they vote Democrat, or tend to.
Seth also explained that these are often people who move around a lot, which is why I was getting a lot of wrong numbers.
Or answering machines.
Now we were calling between 5:30-6:30 so it’s entirely possible that a lot of them just weren’t home from work or maybe they work second shift or two jobs. But I only managed to track down 3-4 of the actual people I was looking for.
One said that she and her husband were Democrats but undecided. They didn’t have any questions for me about Obama, they had watched a lot of stuff already, but were waiting for the debates.
Another said he was a Democrat and would never vote for McCain, but wouldn’t say that he was going to vote for Obama either. When I asked if he had any questions I could answer, he said: “Well, if you could tell me for sure he’s not a Muslim…”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!
Me: “Well, I can. He’s not a Muslim, he’s attended a Christian church for a number of years—”
Him: “Well I’ve heard both stories on the Internet.”
Me: “—attended a Christian church.”
Him: “Well I’m sure not going to vote for McCain.”
Me: “Ok, well I hope that we can count on your vote for Obama. Good night!”
Him: “Goodnight”
Last Call
I wanted one more ring of that bell. So I kept on going. I was tired and frustrated and hungry and tired but I kept on calling.
Answering Machine.
Answering Machine.
Answering Machine.
Answering Machine.
Answering Machine.
Disconnected.
Answering Machine.
Answering Machine.
Answering Machine.
Wrong number.
Answering Machine.
Answering Machine.
Finally I got a woman, she identified herself as the woman I was looking for.
Me: “Hi, my name is Tim and I’m with the Obama Biden campaign here in Ohio.”
Her: (Click)
Well I can’t blame her. I hate getting calls at home too.
So that was it.
No more bell ringing. Left feeling kinda frustrated by the whole thing. I probably could have stayed longer but I was beyond tired and wasn’t up for any more.
But for at least one guy, it made a difference.
It’s a start.