Writer's Notebook, Day Seven-Hundred-And-Eighty-Eight

 I voted today, which was mostly far more pleasant than I had expected.  When Melissa and I decided to go, we went and checked out a few different polling places that are open in our area for early voting, and drove by a few of them at specific times when we thought they might be less busy.  Since Melissa has worked as a clerk at various precincts in elections prior to this, she has a sense of the usual pattern, and we did find a time when there wasn't a real line.  

Their was one thing that did bother me greatly.  When we went to insert our ballots into the machine that reads them, the man working at that station treated me as if I were a child, literally telling me that I did a "great job" when I got the paper into position.  Melissa was with me, and he did nothing of the sort to her. At first I was rather befuddled as to why he would treat me this way, but I suspect it is to do with his noting that I needed Melissa to assist me with my ballot.  As I said last night, I find filling out forms quite difficult, and the ballots where I live resemble the bubble sheets from standardized tests, which I cannot fill out with any accuracy.  As a result, I always go to vote with someone to assist me, as is allowed by law.  So, because I needed help due to my dyslexia, I was treated as if I were a five year old by a person working at the election, and I am sure that man felt quite good about himself, and does not realize just how condescending and insulting the interaction was.  A small price to pay, though, if my vote can help to secure that Florida goes to Biden this election.

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