“Really? She can vote and I can’t? Here’s my license with my address. It’s the same as hers.” I was impatient and not too excited to have to speak to the woman behind the woman checking in registered voters.

“Sorry sir you will have to register.” She said somewhat sympathetically while my lips pursed and eyes cursed.

“Sooo, can I vote today?”

“Um, no.”

“Seriously, this is ridiculous.” my face fully flexed as Robespierre finished up and filed the girls outside.

“Do you want to take it home and mail it in. I mean with the girls and all.” Danced kindly from a strangers lips to my fireball ears.

“No, I’ll explain to them why this is absolutely ridiculous.” chopped out of my mouth as I scribble-wrote my information.

This is not a political statement; I am not going to argue the merits of same day voter registration.

No, that was not the only thing that was “absolutely ridiculous”. What was ridiculous was the fact that I didn’t listen to Robespierre when she wondered why I didn’t have the same registration card that she did. I was upset that I couldn’t vote, and felt that it was absurd that people can’t register on the same day they vote. But, it infuriated me that I didn’t know the laws. I was ignorant to what I should have had knowledge of.

She Can Vote, and I Can’t

Yes, I was disappointed with myself, and I showed my discontent for the “man” the “system” because they weren’t allowing me to do something I wanted to do, but I didn’t know what I should have done. I pride myself on having the “old” ducks in a row, and now they were helter-skelter dashing everywhere.

I finished up the paperwork, took a breath, looked at the woman behind the desk dashing and ditting on her Ipad, smiled, and apologized for taking out my anger out on her. I then found the other woman, who was a bit more suspicious and put-off by my display of displeasure, and apologized to her. They both smiled. I left.

My Papa Sense tells me:

I want our daughters to be accountable, and understand the rules and laws that govern our society, schools, and homes. No matter what we may think of those rules, it is our responsibility to work within them, or intelligently argue to have them changed. It does no good to display anger at those who are simply “carrying out orders”, we need to reach to the people who can change what we may view as “ridiculous”, and plead our case. We can do this at the ballot box, after we register.

*There is obviously a discussion to be had regarding people who have “carried out orders” in history, but for the sake of this post, the women who I encountered were not directly tied to what I viewed as nonsensical.