The following is a more-or-less verbatim transcript of a conversation I overheard between two people in line to vote. I record it here for future historians who may want to know how, exactly, Americans governed themselves in the first quarter of the 21st century.
For the record: I do not endorse, celebrate, or agree with the dialogue I’m reproducing below. I am merely a humble scribe, copying down history.
Scene: Polling place
Players: Man, Woman, both neatly dressed and around 40 years old, youthful and intelligent. They are wearing the kind of clothes that might lead a shallow person who is prone to snap judgments (me) to assume that they are both mildly progressive, upper-middle-class professionals. Something about the Lululemon sweatpants (his) and the Subaru key fob (hers) seems to point in that direction. They are each carrying the large sample ballots that were mailed to registered voters. These ballots list every race and include a voter guide with links to each candidate’s website.
Our play begins as the line shuffles forward at a slow pace.
Man: “Do you know who you’re voting for?”
Woman: “Um, yes. Are you seriously asking me?”
Man: “No, no. I meant, like, for the school board. I haven’t had a chance to look those over.”
Woman: “I was thinking of voting for” — and here she named a candidate — “because she says on her statement that she’s for diversity.”
The man looks through the voter guide, then looks up.
Man: “Of thought, it says.”
Woman: “What?”
Man: “She says that she’s for diversity of thought. Not diversity diversity. Diversity of thought. That’s, like, a code word for right wing.”
Woman: “Oh. I didn’t see that.”
Man: “On the other hand, she’s Asian.”
Woman: “What does that mean?”
The man looks around quickly. He seems to have spotted someone eavesdropping (me). So he lowers his voice. I inch closer to them and pretend to be absorbed with my phone.
Man: “They’re all about education. Maybe she’ll help test scores go up.”
Woman: “That’s just … that’s just ….”
Man: “No, it isn’t. Look, at the top, I’m voting for, you know, her. But when it comes to this stuff, I really think we need to get more serious.”
Woman: “But you don’t know anything about the candidates. You’re basing it on…”
She looks around quickly, too. Her voice drops.
Woman: “…that.”
Man: “Yeah, but you know I’m right.”
Woman: “Shouldn’t we know more than, you know, that part?”
Man: “She’s probably a ‘tiger mom.’ We need one of those in the schools.”
Woman: “You don’t know that.”
Man: “Well, I know I’m not voting for this guy.”
He points to a photograph of a balding white male with a beard and an ear stud.
Man (reading from form): “He says he will ‘prioritize community voices and cultures,’ and I mean, I’m for that and all but…”
Woman: “Yeah, I mean, that’s all great stuff, sure, totally for it…but…”
Man: “Yeah…I mean…yeah…”
Woman: “What’s her name again?”
Man: “Joon.”
Woman: “Joon. Got it.”
They are now at the front of the line.
Woman: “Oh, damn, look where we are. Quick, who else should we vote for?”
Man: “Well, maybe this guy, I think he’s Korean? And this person doesn’t have a photo, but I think that name is Chinese. Lee? Isn’t that a Chinese name?”
Woman: “It could be. But it’s too risky at this point. Are there any obviously Indian names? Not, like, Littlefeather but the other kind.”
Man: “Not for the schools.”
Woman: “For anything?”
Man: “Let me check.”
As he searches the voter guide, a polling place volunteer waves her to the next voting machine. I pretend not to have heard anything. When it is my time to vote, I try not to notice the specific ethnic indications of the candidates’ names.
The End.
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Rob Long is a television writer and producer, including as a screenwriter and executive producer on Cheers, and he is the co-founder of Ricochet.com.