Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

What's in a Name?

I was a volunteer inside poll observer for the Obama campaign, one of about 750 in our county, most of them lawyers, last Tuesday. My role was to insure that the voting machines, optical scanners, were operating and operated properly, that people were permitted to case their votes, that the votes were tabulated according to law, and to call in turn-out numbers to Chicago throughout the day. The outside "observers," two at my polling place, one a lawyer from Rochester, New York, and the other, a lawyer from L.A., were to continue the campaign to the 100-foot limit from the polling place, explain confusing aspects of the ballot, answer questions, and ensure that nobody left the line that formed outside the door without voting.

I called in numbers at 10 a.m. At about 10:45, I learned from one of the outside observers, two canvassers were going door-to-door to check to see if anyone in the neighborhood had not voted. That, I thought, was pretty damn cool. They found a few and urged them to come to the polls. Not everyone voted, though. An elderly woman, walking about a quarter mile from her car, suffered an asthma attack; an ambulance was called, and the paramedics worked on her for a half hour, during which time, a voter came in and asked me to go outside. It seems that the elderly guy, with whom the asthma-attacked woman came to vote, was standing, waiting. I didn't know at the time, but I was also in charge of convincing people to vote instead of waiting to see if their companions in ambulances were going to pull through. He voted. Then he went to the hospital to check on his lady friend, but only after promising me he would bring her to vote if she was discharged before the 7:30 closing time. He promised.

I had to be at the polling place, a church, at 5:30 a.m. When I spoke to one of the outside observers Monday night, I gave her the most important job of getting doughnuts, since she wasn't required to be there until about 6:15. I found a doughnut place that opened at 5, but I couldn't make it to the church by 5:30. There was a Dunkin' Donuts next to her hotel, she told me. She brought two dozen. Ruth, who had worked at the polls for 30 years, said, "Nobody ever brought us doughnuts. Hey, everybody, look! William brought us doughnuts!" The other 11 poll workers voiced their thanks after the initial rush of voters ended, and each told me to have a doughnut.

The last few times I visited Dunkin' Donuts, the doughnuts weren't very good. I thought it was the particular store, but the second and third locations I visited were not any better. I couldn't finish even one doughnut. I decided that it was a matter of timing. Twice I visited late in the evening and once late in the afternoon; so, bad timing was the obvious culprit.

I picked up the only peanut-covered doughnut in either box, looking forward to the first-thing-in-the-morning, unhealthy snack breakfast. I tried to choke it down. I really did. But it wouldn't go down. It was terrible.

Here's the thing. The business is called "DUNKIN' DONUTS" for a reason. The company is getting into "gourmet" coffee -- putting bags of coffee in stores, instead of simply having a pot on the burner at the doughnut shop -- and "coolattas," whatever those are, and Latte Lites. And Turbo Hot -- with "real" espresso! Real espresso -- my, my, my. I understand that some people, maybe one or two, love Dunkin' Donuts coffee, swear by it, can't start the day without it; and that's okay. No problem. Really.

But, for crying out loud, the company is serving breakfast omelet supreme bagel and croissant sandwiches and flatbread sandwiches and personal pan pizzas and white hot chocolate.

The operative word in the name is DONUTS.

Work on making the fucking donuts better, please.

You have four years -- or I will send the outside poll observer to Krispy Kreme.

Posted by Bill at November 11, 2008 10:35 PM