I’ll be the first to admit that for years I hated these last few weeks before Election Day. I hid every time I heard a knock on my door during weekend afternoons, peering behind closed curtains at the folks with telltale pamphlets and clipboards in hand. These unexpected visitors would most likely be Jehovah’s Witnesses or Mormons in any other month of the year, but October meant local politicians. Because October also meant football and playoff baseball, every doorbell ring resulted in quickly lowering the volume on the TV and hiding until they moved on to the neighbor’s house.
I despised those mid-dinner phone calls asking whether I’d thought about voting for Candidate X. I begrudged anything that got between me and my Hot Pockets, but I was even more upset that they’d found my phone number at all. Security lapses like these meant it might be easier for my old high school and college development offices to find me and hit me up for more donations.