Canvasser Confessions

Tales from the trails

I was searching for part time work and a friend roped me into an opportunity to join the campaign of a local candidate for CA state government. The job? Go door to door, create awareness of the candidate and, if possible, persuade hearts and minds.

I’ve been at it since August and am amazed to have amassed a collection of observations and experiences worthy of a post. Makes sense though, right? Being close witness to the spectrum of humanity and their dwellings, thousands of them, is bound to stir up some goodies.

Let’s first consider the signals that are available to the canvasser before they approach a door. Our app provides household registration data such as name, address, age, gender, and party affiliation, if available. Then one must consider environmental factors that may round out a profile; type of car, stickers on windows or bumpers, flags, little shoes outside indicating small children, presence of solar panels or drought resistant gardens. A good canvasser has active eyeballs and can tailor their pitch house by house based on these visuals. I’ve complimented people mid-talk on their flower beds, choice of paint color or stone, door bell style, or cool t-shirt. Kindness works!

And then there are the dogs…

I like dogs, but dogs are the great disrupters of grass roots campaigning. Many doors reside behind gates, so vigilance is an imperative when entering these realms. I’ve been attacked twice so far. One dog unfortunately had to take my shoe to the mouth as I fended her off, while the owner screamed at me for trespassing and threatening to call the cops. Another small dog I didn’t notice on a porch got a hold of my shorts as I ran off, dragging her along for half my escape.

But even if not defending against an outright attack, it is impossible to engage with a person through a slightly cracked door during a bark fest. Are dogs a threat to democracy? I wouldn’t go that far, but it’s fun to write. Not so fun at the door, however, and I am admittedly suffering from doggie PTSD.

There are the spectacular interactions…

An older gentleman spent 5 minutes telling me how his wife of 35 years left him, took almost everything and lives in opulence while he languishes in this small apartment. He ended his harangue with “ya know, your name is Jeff. So is mine. I’m going to vote for your candidate.” I’ve had many tangential conversations with seniors, just affirming what we know about the epidemic of loneliness in this country.

A small boy told me I looked like a gorilla. His slightly older brother sweetly apologized for his brother’s comment then got their dad to come, who promptly closed the door in my face.

A mad professor who appeared to be on mushrooms or similar chatted me up for 10 minutes about random political phenomena from across the globe then presented me with 3 must read books..as I walked off he yelled “go get em my brother!”.

I’ve been called a communist 3 times.

On approach of one house I heard horrific, bloodcurdling screams and anguish from a woman. I listened intently, readying myself to dial 911 because it sounded like a murder in progress. Then, I heard a few other noises that were..indicative. Utterly befuddled, I visited the next few houses then came back to the alleged crime scene. Two women were outside, talking calmly, even amorously. Ok then..lesbian rough sex, check!

Then there’s the tough stuff…

One woman answered the door with a swollen black eye and unmistakable countenance of fear and abuse.

Another door opened and I couldn’t quite see through the metal screen separating us but I was hit with the smell of death. After my opening shpeel, the slight woman meekly stated that she wouldn’t be around for the election and thanked me for my time. Had to take a few minutes after that one to collect myself.

The hoarding out there is galactic in scale and personality. I saw a garage door that was 3/4 closed, resting on a blob of crap striving to spill free. Even in the heart of silicon valley, there are MANY homes that look like they’re about to collapse.

This job has super-fueled the omni present question of how regular people afford to live here, given the astronomical income gap in the bay area. Most everybody laments the ridiculous cost of living, portending serious risk to any incumbent candidate, including VP Harris.

The level of disgust and distrust in our political system is remarkable and worrying, and this is not MAGA country. Still, I come away each day with at least a handful of voters who listen well, ask a few questions, thank me for what I’m doing, and even offer water. Or, a strange and memorable experience.

I think every sociology, psychology, and anthropology student should take a shift as a canvasser for an election or grass roots cause. Humanity in the raw! 4 years ago I ran a voting center and that was incredibly interesting and rewarding, but I think this is better. My favorite interactions have been with Hispanic families, speaking in their language and attempting to connect their worlds to that of the candidate.

Even though 70% of the doors I knock on don’t answer/aren’t home and I have freakishly tan legs from the knee down, the other 30% has left a stirring imprint, for better or worse.

And, I’m getting mad steps in.