by Daniel Shotkin
This week, electors from across the country will cast their votes for the next president of the United States. Only now, more than a month after Election Day, will Uncle Sam officially wave goodbye to election season. That seasonal bout of incessant campaign mail and debate fever has found its way off the front pages, replaced by a national rumination over one question: How did we get here?
The overarching answer is that it depends on who you ask. The self-assured economist will tell you that Donald Trump’s election is simply the result of widespread dissatisfaction with inflation—“it’s the economy, stupid.” The zealous Middle East correspondent will point to Kamala Harris’ support of Israel’s actions in Gaza. The MAGA Evangelical will tell you Trump’s win was the direct result of divine intervention. As a poll worker, I have a slightly different take on the election. Instead of focusing on the results, I think we can learn more about the state of America in 2024 from Election Day itself.
To preface, I am not the most typical poll worker. As a high school senior, I signed up to work the polls through a program my school offered with the local town. Eight hours of light work with my friends for $200 was a great deal, especially since we would skip school. But the gravity of this particular gig hit full force during the mandatory four-hour training in our cafeteria—our instructor informed us that “our nation and democracy depend on you.” Quite a lot to ask of forty-odd chattering high school students.
By midday on November 5th, I walked to my assigned polling station unsure of what to expect. I had heard stories of election workers being threatened in battleground states, though I was skeptical of that happening in suburban New Jersey. Our instructor had also warned us to expect “challengers”—party officials inspecting voting procedure—watching our every move. After months of end-all, be-all election coverage, the only thing I felt sure of was that this election, more than any other, would be exceptional. My suspicions were confirmed as the polling station came into view.
My suburban New Jersey hometown, not exactly accustomed to crowds, was brewing with activity. Hundreds of people filed in line waiting to cast their votes outside the community center, spilling out into the usually quiet main street. I’d later learn from older poll workers that this was the most crowded Election Day they had seen in years. The numbers back that up—estimates from the University of Florida suggest 2024 had one of the highest voter turnouts in history, second only to 2020. And considering almost half of 2020’s votes were mail-in ballots, these in-person results are truly historic.
But if the situation outside felt extraordinary, the atmosphere inside was anything but. The crowds dissipated into a single orderly line filled with courteous small talk and neighbors greeting each other. For an election that was supposed to highlight the division in our country, this felt categorically nonpartisan. There seemed to be a universal feeling of deference to the election process among voters: voters attentively listened to each direction I explained, adamantly gave me proof of ID (though it wasn’t required), and proudly grabbed “I Voted” stickers. The cramped community center had become an election temple, and the crowds of voters its devoted congregation.
Still, among the crowds of people who came into our polling station on November 5th, respect for the voting process was to be the sole unifying factor. Age, gender, race, height, profession, fashion sense, facial expression—the diversity of the people I encountered underlined just how different the American voter can be. Some general demographic groups did stand out. There were the first-time voter Gen Z types—donning sweatpants, headphones in hand, and bearing a general air of nonchalance. Directly opposite were the blue-collar workers, often standing together in groups, dressed in high-visibility jackets, with traces of dirt on their hands as they carefully cast their ballots.
Then there were the foreign-born voters, among them my own family. From Korean to Turkish, Russian to Mexican, this group was by far the most diverse, both in age and demeanor. But it was also the most nervous group—one Spanish-speaking voter anxiously asked what “Board of Education” meant, and my dad, an immigrant from Russia, spent a record 10 minutes in the voting booth torn over candidates, not knowing that it wasn’t necessary to vote on each position.
By far the most outspoken demographic group was older conservative men. I only know they were conservative because, well, they told me. One gentleman struggling to make out a ballot’s text from inside the booth confidently asked me whether I could “just come in and press Trump down the line.” Nearing the end of my shift, another man walked into the ballot booth, printed out his selections, and walked up to cast his vote before stopping and asking me, “So, is this election rigged or not?” I replied as best I could: “Not on my watch.”
While I’m on the topic of rigging elections, I’d like to definitively state that there was no election fraud in 2024. There were, however, some moments that weren’t exactly up to regulation standards: mothers asking their toddlers to select a candidate, my friends and I guessing who people in line were going to vote for, children getting “I Voted” stickers without actually voting (for which we were later reprimanded).
The polls closed at 8 pm, and we began the arduous process of collecting the ballots. Though ballot selections and tallies are still electronic, physical paper ballots still have to be brought to the local election office for certification. So, our supervisors unlocked the ballot boxes (using two keys for security) and laid a clump of a thousand ballots across the floor. Like a bank heist in a GTA game, we would spend the next ten minutes carefully stuffing each ballot into a big blue duffle bag. A police officer then solemnly took the bag and drove off to the county election office. Election done.
So what can we make of Election Day 2024? Firstly, that America is indeed a very divided country. We’ve heard this conclusion hundreds of times in the news, but we also mostly imagine this division to be along political lines. Half of the country simply has strong conservative views and the other has strong progressive ones. Of course, that’s the case, but that’s just a symptom of a wider trend. In every aspect of our lives, we are more different from each other than we’ve ever been. The daily life of a blue-collar worker has little in common with that of a remote worker. The adulthood of Gen Z is worlds apart from that of Baby Boomers. Immigrant Americans live in a different reality compared to those born in the US. These divisions have disconnected us, not just politically, but also in the way we live our lives.
This is why I find the polls to be so important—they’re one of the few institutions left where Americans unite over a shared experience. This realization, though far from the most gripping election take, is one more people need to have if we are to overcome the systemic division in our country. We have to recognize that the U.S.A. is not united because of a shared political belief, language, or background, but because of the cultural institutions that we share. Choosing a candidate, casting a ballot, and taking an “I Voted” sticker may seem superficial, but it does remind us of the most lasting and significant of all of America’s institutions—voting.
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