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As part of my “getting up in time for work” practice, I made an early appearance at the polling station yesterday to cast my vote in the referendum about changing the system for elections to the Westminster Parliament.
I then checked my letter of appointment for counting duty and discovered that the count didn’t start until 3 p.m. on Friday, not 9 a.m. as I had thought. My cup runneth over.
So I turned up at the Town Hall and, discovering that the start time was actually half past three, wandered down to Waterstone’s taking in a large dose of sunshine and an ice cream along the way.
Half an hour later, I was back at the Town Hall where I duly presented my passport, received my cheque and waited for the off. Counting started at 4 p.m. precisely.
It was a superficially straight forward affair – you had to sort the votes into “yeses” and “noes” and count them. There was some scope for confusion …
“Are these noes?”
“Yes, they’re noes”
“No, those are yeses”
… you get the picture. We completed the first count fairly promptly and waited to be dismissed. No such luck. The regional election centre ordered a recount.
William of Occam
The reason for the recount was not the nail bitingly closeness of the respective totals, but the fact that there was a discrepancy of less than ten between the number of votes cast and the number of votes counted (compounded by an inherent weakness in the postal vote system). Where’s William of Occam when you need him?
The result was eventually declared just before 9 p.m., instead of 7 p.m., as originally planned.
As in previous counts, there was the reassurance that British elections are administered by people who care passionately about the integrity of the process and that the process itself is satisfyingly transparent (a strong argument against electronic voting). There wasn’t the same buzz as in a proper election, although the “Yes” activists were understandably pleased that Oxford was one of the few areas that supported the Alternative Vote.
As a work experience, it was noticeable how there was an almost instantaneous sense of team spirit – the same thing happened with the Census. Of course, this rather begs the question of why organisations think it necessary to send their most senior managers on expensive team building exercises. DON’T GET ME STARTED ON TEAM BUILDING EXERCISES.
Links : Electoral Commission
Team-Building Exercises
No need for you to get going about team-building exercises among senior managers because I am quite happy to do so! Purely out of generosity, you understand, and to prevent your blood-pressure rising unduly. There are two things to mark here.
Firstly, that the said exercises NEVER take place within, say, a grotty conference room in the usual workplace, or a village hall, complete with mouse-droppings and do-it-yourself coffee-making facilities. No, the venue is generally a nice out-of-town four or five star hotel with fluffy towels, saunas, and salmon buffet. Nuff said. A jolly good lunch is clearly the aim, not construction of an esprit de corps.
Secondly, that – despite the fact that the exercises are largely an excuse for a day out – in reality, senior managers NEED team-building. They have a higher percentage of inflated egos than is found among the average group of workers, so the poor dears can’t just do what you and your census/vote-counting colleagues did: i.e. develop a sensible working relationship from a standing start. However, surely the team-building exercises could be run at infinitely less expense and with added fun? For instance, why not let the minions lock the bosses in a conference room with high windows and no tea and biscuits, so the team of senior managers can work together on how to get out of the room before the evening cleaners arrive? Besides the economy and amusement element of the scheme, just think how much work junior employees could do without bosses to distract them!
There is an opening here for an enterprising middle-aged woman to start a new business called Team-Building for Cheapskate Dummies ….