How an AT&T Rep Convinced Me That I May Not be Voting at All

I exceeded my data. I hate when that happens but it does. As a roving gypsy — I find myself in places that aren’t programmed for my benefit but I have to take it. I’m a survivor and right now — it’s all about the craft.

The last text message warning me that shit was about to get ugly if I didn’t stop taking chances with my assigned plan got me heated — and inspired an urgent phone call to AT&T.

They were calm and so was I.

Shouting matches never yield positive results. I just needed to know that my routine wouldn’t be disrupted because I can’t fork over more than $250 in order to keep my account alive.

The first representative patiently outlined my options after I had given him the low down on my past and current status. He recommended a better agent who could give me what I needed without objection. I encouraged him to facilitate this hopeful venture.

Her name was Elizabeth.

She listened as I once again recited my roster of qualms with the energy of a pro. She was empathetic and assured me that my issue wasn’t uncommon. I already knew that but I allowed her to go on about why and how I wasn’t unique.

In the end she saved me.

Her solution was stellar and despite the reality of an increased bill in the future — I felt secure that this plan would be the perfect fit. As she processed my request — she asked about L.A.

She wanted to know how long I’ve been here and if I like it. I told her that I loved the City of Angels — and explained my recent move. I asked her where she was.

I found out that she was born and raised in Iowa — and still lived there. And as I probed further — I was amazed to learn that she was just twenty-years-old.

Damn! She sounded way older and I mentioned that which I probably shouldn’t have but it just came out…

She reacted well. I was reminded that you’re only as young as you feel. True that!

Having someone that young on the line prompted my investigative appendage. I needed to know if she was going to vote.

I wasn’t interested in who she was voting for — I just wanted her to tell me that she was planning on participating in this overly-bloated shit show.

She said no. I asked her why.

Elizabeth, plainly and honestly explained that she wasn’t invested in any of the candidates. She sounded like a White girl — so I concluded that she was.

She didn’t go into detail or anything but her resigned disposition breathed more life into me than the new phone plan I had just surrendered to.

After we hung up — the first words out of my mouth were “Holy Shit.”

Why did it take a girl twenty years my junior to stroke the fact that I am also irrevocably disillusioned by the present climate?

How is it that I prided myself with the task of voting for Hillary Clinton after Bernie Sanders expectedly wilted under the constitution of State and Power?

I am a Black woman who could die tomorrow because of the dishonor of jaywalking.

How in the entire fuck is Hillary Clinton going to give two fucks about my predicament?

She’s not.

She’s American Royalty — and even though she will likely win this cycle — thanks to the debited work of our illustrious First Lady — Clinton resembles the mindset of the other Clinton — without the soiled garment of course.

If a young White American girl can declare her opposition to both candidates without a stutter or a stammer — then, maybe it’s time I stop bullshitting myself and make my confession.

I loath Donald Trump — and Hillary Clinton makes me wanna gag.

I like Bernie Sanders because he’s progressive but he reminds me of an annoying grandfather that you love but can’t be around for too long.

I’ve deceived myself into believing that I was going to do all I can to ensure that a racist bastard with more money than God wouldn’t have the privilege of occupying the Oval office.

Vote for Hillary! Do your part to prevent America from being “Great Again.”

Elizabeth, the twenty-year-old from Iowa did way more than finesse my data usage — she also casually reminded me of the beauty of being the citizen of a country that demands your loyalty and honesty.

You can’t preach without practice.

You can’t pretend you are for your people and then abandon them when shit hits the fan. You can’t allow public adherence to blind your ability to recognize why you are in fact stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Except, I’m not stuck. Anymore.

I most likely won’t vote this November.

It sucks. I wish I could be simple-minded enough to just go with the flow and hope for the best. It would be awesome to be a part of a history-making moment. It would be gratifying to accept Donald Trump as the next president — knowing his victory didn’t come from what I did or didn’t do.

Life is a box of chocolates — but Forrest Gump was so wrong. You do know exactly what you’re going get. That’s why we stall until we can’t any longer.

My train finally pulled up into the station. I’m not sure how this new location will work out but at least it looks familiar and feels promising.

There is always tomorrow. And that my friends, is the American way.