Reporter's Notebook: Waiting for voting results means a long, long night

Last November, I took a job as the Umatilla county stringer for The Associated Press. I stayed until the bitter end while county elections officials and their helpers checked signatures against voter-registration cards, tabulated ballots and ensured the election was run according to Hoyle.

I arrived at a 7:45 p.m. and didn’t leave until 1 a.m. Each time election workers made a new tabulation, they gave me a new unofficial count and reported the results to the AP. I was exhausted the next day but had the luxury of sleeping in a bit later. Plus, I got paid $75 for a little over five hours of work. It was kind of nice.

Last month, before the East Oregonian Publishing Co. bought The Hermiston Herald, I again took a job as a stringer for The Associated Press for the May primary. Part of the reason I didn’t worry about how late the night might be was because I knew the next day wouldn’t be a deadline day. Under the new ownership, the deadline day for Friday’s paper is Wednesday, which meant I couldn’t exactly sleep in, but at least I would be OK if I got home by 1 a.m.

At 7:45 on election night, I dutifully reported to the Umatilla County Courthouse to await election results. And I waited. And I waited. And I waited. Until 3 a.m. I waited. By the time the last vote was retallied, I had been struggling for quite some time to keep awake.

A power outage that day had caused a glitch in the system and at least two precincts were counted twice, making the numbers from the state and the numbers from the county off by 4 percent. The 10 or so Diet Cokes I had that day no longer were keeping me awake. I had finished my chick-lit book stopping only to call AP to give an update and playing billiards on my cell phone by midnight and rummaged in the county’s basement break room for another one to read while waiting for results.

As I perused the shelves, I was amazed to find an old favorite from my pre-teen years a Barbara Cartland novel. I used to devour those little romance novels. I haunted Louthan’s IGA for the latest edition of Cartland’s novels. Her books were all the same a beautiful, young, usually poor heroine who does or does not have parents who meets the handsome, filthy rich and dashing hero who is either considered a complete rascal or is so stiff a person could use him as a fire poker they argue, she shows him what for and they fall in love, get married and live happily ever after. Easy reads but fun, despite the fact you know how it will end.

As I settled in on one of the couches in the break room to read the first few pages of the book, I could feel myself starting to nod off. Every few pages, I would put the book down and wander through the hallway to the elections office to see how things were going.

Peeking through the door, I could see Kathy Allen, an elections official, gazing at the counting machine as if willing the machine to count the ballots more quickly. The 10 or so ladies who helped sort ballots earlier in the evening had vanished, leaving only a handful of county workers left to handle the recount effort. I walked back to my little sanctuary, picked up my book and tried to concentrate on reading.

Suddenly, around 3 a.m., I heard a big whoop and knew the long night might be at an end. I ran to the elections office and sure enough, the numbers the county had finally jibed with the state’s numbers. Hooray!

Unfortunately, I had to wait another 20 minutes or so while the county printed out the unofficial results and handed me a copy. By the looks on their weary faces, I knew I couldn’t make them stay while I wrote down the numbers, phoned it in and then faxed the sheets to the AP. I grabbed my stuff and headed to the car, where I was greeted with a good shot from a sprinkler because of the high winds. If that cold water didn’t wake me up, nothing would.

Calling in the numbers, I could hear elation in the voice on the other end maybe his job was done for the night as well. As I headed west toward Hermiston, all I could think about was home and bed. And how worried my husband must be. Plus, I was starving and needed gas. Thank goodness the Pilot station was open and so was McDonald’s. A late night McChicken sandwich, sans Diet Coke, and a quick fill-up and I was on my way home.

There was my husband, waiting for me, a worried expression on his face. A quick smooch and off to bed. Where I naturally struggled to fall asleep. My Sadie kitty sat down beside me, acting a bit angry I was gone all night and not at her beck and call. Finally, I fell asleep only to be jarred awake by the alarm at 7:15.

With two hours of sleep under my belt, I sleepily dragged myself up, brushed me teeth, dressed and headed out the door. It wasn’t until I got in the car that I realized I had forgot to brush my hair.

Remind me not to pull another all-nighter before a deadline day.

Karen Hutchinson-Talaski is a reporter for The Hermiston Herald.