A Telling Experience

At the local government elections on Thursday, our friend, the Lib Dem Councillor, Robert Donald needed Tellers. 

These are the people who sit outside the Poling Station and ask you for your voter number.  The purpose is so that the candidates can see which of their supporters have not yet voted and might need encouraging.

The slot left to fill was the graveyard shift, 9 – 10 pm.

But we hadn't been tellers before and weren’t sure what it involved.  Plus Nigel had a work event earlier that evening.  And neither of us was keen on me as a woman sitting on my own in the dark outside the polling station late at night. 

In the end, we went along together.  

 It was a cold evening with occasional dramatic downpours and we arrived muffled up to the eyes in ancient wax jackets. Our departing Lib-Dem friend passed on the by-now slightly droopy orange rosette.

There were two other tellers, one Labour and one Conservative, and to our delight, they had inveigled the tellers’ chairs into the porch of the Polling Station, out of the worst of the weather. 

The first thing we learnt was that the other tellers were smartly dressed, unlike us.

The second thing was that we were all politely working together – anybody who obtained a number shouted it out for the other tellers. I needn’t have worried about going along on my own.

The Conservative teller worked in Westminster and was a mine of information on matters procedural – for instance, no rosettes are allowed within the voting hall itself as it could constitute intimidation – also the reason why the tellers are meant to stay outside.  It was also interesting to hear his view of recent controversies.

All in all, it was a privilege to take part in our well-ordered democratic system, to learn more about it.  

And best of all, Robert had a huge win for the Lib Dems.