A comedy of manners and issues

Effectively, this needs to be essentially the most thrilling election expertise of my life— if by “thrilling” you imply quiet, peaceable, and utterly devoid of pleasure. Truthfully, it felt extra like an election for a category consultant than a showdown between political titans. I imply, when two supposedly heavyweight candidates can’t even be bothered to ask for votes, you begin questioning in the event that they’ve confused ‘constituency’ with ‘trip spot.’

Each events, in a stunning present of unity, determined to not grace us with their presence. No door-knocking, no speeches, not even a flyer tossed in our normal path. It’s like they collectively agreed to play hide-and-seek with the voters, and spoiler alert— we didn’t discover them.

So right here we’re, left twiddling our thumbs, feeling like we’ve been stood up for the promenade. We couldn’t even vent our frustrations at their disappearing acts, nor might we pledge help to anybody who would possibly truly care. Seems, each events appeared extra fascinated about ghosting us than representing us.

Now, think about our predicament: all geared as much as make an knowledgeable resolution that may form the subsequent 5 years, solely to understand the candidates had been in all probability too busy- doing nothing, I assume? Perhaps they’re saving all their power for a Netflix binge post-election.

On D-day, we determined to don our smartest outfits for what we anticipated could be an epic ultimate showdown. With all of the seriousness of a army operation, we huddled up for a last-minute technique session, deliberating over who deserved the distinguished honour of our vote. Then, feeling fairly good about our resolution, we took the most secure, most hassle-free path to the polling sales space— as a result of nothing says democracy like avoiding potholes.

Upon arrival, we thought we’d test in on the volunteer stations for some good old style last-minute campaigning. You understand, the sort the place somebody passionately reminds you why their candidate is clearly the only option. However alas! Each stations had been a ghost city, save for just a few volunteers who, of their infinite enthusiasm, had been half-heartedly slouched on mismatched chairs, deeply engrossed within the intense technique of… a sport of Ludo on their telephones.

Now, there we stood, bewildered voters hoping for a ultimate nudge— possibly some persuasion, a flyer, a half-baked promise— something to make us really feel like we mattered. However nope. It was as if each events had collectively determined, “Nah, we’ll simply go away it to luck.” And there we had been, gazing these digital gladiators, questioning if we had been speculated to forged a vote or take part for the subsequent spherical.

Rejected, dejected, and unceremoniously deserted by each the candidates and their torpid, smartphone-obsessed volunteers, we made a solemn vow as accountable residents: We’ll vote. Regardless of how lacklustre the alternatives, irrespective of how detached the marketing campaign, we’d make the leap. In spite of everything, democracy is dependent upon the valiant few keen to face in lengthy, serpentine queues for the honour of receiving the coveted indigo mark on the left forefinger. This was our second of glory— our leap of religion— maybe we’d even emerge because the ‘Kingmakers’!

Or so we thought.

In actuality, the serpentine queue turned out to be a brief, uninspired line of about 5 individuals. In lower than ten minutes, we discovered ourselves standing outdoors the polling sales space, indigo-marked and bewildered. We barely had time to muster up that noble, civic-pride feeling earlier than all of it ended. No grand wrestle, no epic ready time, simply… accomplished. As we walked away, having forged our vote for candidates who couldn’t care much less, we couldn’t shake the sensation we’d been swindled— cheated out of the expertise, our valuable vote handed over like unfastened change to a merchandising machine that didn’t even give us the suitable snack.

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