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I teach and perform improv comedy, but I was completely unprepared for the comedy of errors I discovered when I started working in an Elections BC Four district office weeks before the 2024 provincial elections.

My manager – Jerry, we’ll call him – hired me over the phone. I thought it was a done deal, but I received no further communication after our call. Two weeks before my start date, I emailed him to ask what was going on. He sent me a mixed message, so I contacted HR and they just told me to wait. Then Jerry’s replacement contacted me and told me to come a few days before work began. (Turns out Jerry quit at the last minute. He apparently said it was to take care of personal matters, but I now wonder if he knew what he was being asked to do was impossible .)

My first day was an eight-hour training session, focusing on integrity, impartiality and harassment prevention. In fact, the only useful part of the day was learning how to use the new computer system to administer the vote. All it said about my job at the front desk was that I had to use a whistle if someone dangerous came in. Of course, that whistle never materialized. I guess I could have bought one at the dollar store.

I started working at the front desk before the advance polls. One day, when I asked how the phone worked, I was given a two-page manual that I couldn’t understand. I asked another employee and she showed me how to forward calls. When I followed his instructions, the calls were disconnected. Finally I asked the head technician and he explained to me how to handle them.

I should have known it was a comedy show when I heard the district elections director — let’s call her Mary — walking behind me into the office and saying, “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know”, like a character in Alice in Wonderland.

She was so adorable that I didn’t give up. I simply wrote him a note asking why it was such a shitty show, albeit in nicer language. A few days later, Mary went to the reception with the deputy district elections officer; without closing the door to the public, told me that she knew she was disorganized but that I should not be angry about it.

The aid stations at the back were really great. A woman built a cave with the urns and sat there from time to time. I told the supply manager that I had seven years of post-secondary education, but was obviously very stupid because I had to get help to assemble one of the smaller boxes . We all laughed.

One part of my job that I really enjoyed was administering the vote. I thought it was great theater to ask people if they ever voted seriously in elections. As if anyone would admit that.

I also had to make numerous phone calls to other workers who were coming for training. The office manager gave me the contact list and I called each person to tell them when to come. One day, after making about 38 calls, someone told me that the times on the sheet were wrong and that I should probably call everyone again.

I checked with Mary and she said yes: start again. This caused stress and confusion not only for me, but also for the people I was calling. I was on the verge of tears at this point, but I managed to sort everything out with Mary. The office manager told me I didn’t need to call anymore that day (a small victory). I found out the next day that the poor people in training were getting calls from head office, the recruiter and me.

At that time, I discovered a meditation book—F*ck That: an honest meditation by Jason Headley—at Granville Island. I started reading it at work when I was tempted to quit because of the disorganized, inefficient and strange way of doing things.

Meanwhile, the elections were getting closer.

People seemed very determined when they came to vote. A voter began to tell us about the political situation in the province; we had to interrupt it because we had to remain impartial. Another went on a rant about how he and his wife were going to “vote against these communists.” Another voter – who had just completed official Elections BC training – deliberately spoiled her ballot. Why did she want this job anyway????

In general, the multicultural crowd that came to see us was very, very patient with us when we encountered difficulties. It was a very reactive office – unprepared, to say the least. For example, a potential voter who used a cane and heavy glasses came to ask what ID she needed, then left. I warned the office manager that someone who appeared blind was likely to come back later, and he then rushed to get the braille voting system working. Another quadriplegic person arrived and luckily he let one of us vote in his place. Only after they left did a technician from the back come out and set up the disabled system that allowed someone to blow through a straw to vote.

At one point, someone came in and asked for a “protected vote.” I later found out he could have been an ex-convict, a judge, or a foster parent. I didn’t know how to help her, so I asked Mary out; she asked him to come back later. Then I heard her talking very loudly to another person on the phone and asking them how exactly does it work?????

I gradually realized that Elections BC headquarters was largely responsible for the mess. They expected that an election office could be magically created in a matter of weeks and clearly did not train people properly for their jobs. They didn’t even give Mary enough money to buy stationery. I brought my own supplies and charged for them.

At 10:30 p.m. on Election Day, I made a toast. I had listened to CKNW all night; it looked like we were going to have a minority government and that I might be called upon to call another election.

“Oh no!” I told myself. “It’s time to get out of this real-life comedy and get back to performing improv comedy on stage.”