Last week I decided to exercise my civic duty and volunteer to canvass for the candidate of my choice for U.S. Senate. It is one of the many privileges we enjoy as members of a democracy. Plus, I’ve always wondered what it would be like. The assignment was phone canvassing, and to be honest, I wasn’t exactly looking forward it. I expected people either to not answer their phones when they saw an unfamiliar number or to summarily hang up if they were of a different political persuasion. What I really did not foresee was the civics lesson it turned out to be.
It was enlightening in ways good, bad and ugly. For one thing, I got a glimpse of how robocalling—the bane of everyone’s existence—works. The system used in this case was Hubdialer, and we canvassers had no idea who or where we were calling. Phone numbers did not display, so I didn’t realize I was calling Independence, Missouri, until I asked respondents where they lived. Like Martha, who greeted me with, “Hallelujah! This candidate helps the people and the veterans who need support. Bless you for calling.” She assured me that both she and her boyfriend would be voting for my candidate. Martha is 80 years old.
Then there was Nadine, who turned out to be a fellow canvasser from Kansas City. We chatted for quite some time, comparing notes on our experiences with the voters of our state. We lamented that many of our calls went to voice mail, mostly because people were at work (and many don’t have land lines anyway). The folks who are home tend to avoid calls by simply not picking up the phone. Nadine told me she also had worked on the campaign four years ago. She’s 81—you go, girl.
There were some ugly calls, too. Like the woman who told another canvasser to “go to hell”—which is where she said our candidate also should go. Or the respondents who said, “Sure, I’ll talk to you, but you won’t like what I have to say,” and then went on to excoriate the candidate and the party for “not caring about our veterans” among other complaints (but mostly for just being). Those conversations usually ended in abrupt termination, i.e., a hang up.
How did I feel about being rebuffed by slamming phones? Surprisingly unfazed. I was there as an advocate, not a provocateur. So no matter how rude someone was, I thanked them for their time. And if they stayed on the phone long enough, I added, “Have a nice day.” After a couple of hours, I realized I wasn’t going to change any minds. But I might have swayed one voter who “only goes to the polls for presidential elections.” I told her down-ballot elections are just as important. Maybe more so. And I learned that canvassing on behalf of a Senate hopeful calls for dignity, even if the effort isn’t met with the same.
