Or as she characterized it: Today I volunteered at the kid’s school in the position of “Person Who Asks, “Are you here to vote?” And Then Points Toward The Stairs.” Here is an excerpt from her account:
“Hi! Are you here to vote?”
Unpleasant Voter: “Oh, are you here to direct people to the polls?”
“Yes I am!” [Smile.]
Unpleasant Voter: “What they really need is someone directing people to the entrance of the building because it’s hard to find.”
“Ha! That’s so funny!” [But thinking: “Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t find the fucking entrance of a building? The big stone facade didn’t tip you off? The big sign saying, “Vote Here” with an arrow pointing toward the door didn’t tip you off? You’re going to vote right now? Seriously?”]
I would have guessed she lives in South Caroline like me, but in fact she was working a polling place in her home state of Michigan. In what I am sure is an extraordinary coincidence, today she is quoted in a fairly stupid NYT article about Mothers Who Drink During Playdates where she is a voice of reason. Her wonderful blog is called Suburban Bliss where the header features a “Momtini” and there is even a link to a Momtini Cafe Press store:
–Ann Bartow
