I’ve volunteered to stuff envelopes, so I show up to the Democratic Party of Oregon office and buzz the buzzer. Thirty seconds later, an older gentleman comes walking down the stairs and says hello.
“I’m here to volunteer. I’m helping with the mailing?”
“For the DPO?”
“Ummm.” (Oh yeah, DPO.) “Yes.”
“Huh, um, come upstairs.”
A women emerges from a room to the left. “Actually, come down here.”
“Come on upstairs.”
“No, it’s down here.”
They go back and forth three or four times, civilly, neither offering any more information to me or to each other. Finally, thankfully, another woman pokes her head around the corner to set the record straight. “We’re doing the mailings down here.”
So down I go, and duly stuff my appointed envelopes for the 973xx zip codes.
It doesn’t occur to me until about a week later that this exchange might have been a little too illustrative of the Democratic party as a whole.