Votes Don’t Make Presidents
“This is my first election as an American citizen,” Juan was wise enough to admit when he didn’t have all the facts. Plus, he had a deep and abiding respect for his uncle, stemming partly from his uncle’s age and great wealth and partly from Juan’s cultural heritage. He didn’t fully trust his uncle, but he did respect him. “You have a lot of experience with elections, no?”
Pablo puffed up, pleased to be recognized for his superior knowledge. He blew out a small smoke ring to express his satisfaction, “I’ve been working elections in this city for nearly thirty years. I know how everything works here.”
“There’s a lot at stake in this election,” Juan encouraged his uncle to divulge some of what he knew. He tried to prompt him with things he’d been hearing on the news. “The economy’s pretty bad, they’ve got wars going on everywhere, and crime is getting worse.”
Pablo shook his head slowly, “Ah…” he blew out a puff of smoke, “the economy is not so bad. I’ve seen worse.”
“Yes sir. Me too,” Juan had to admit. Compared to his relatives in Mexico, he would be considered a rich man. He could even be considered relatively prosperous compared to most of his relatives in the United States. “People these days, they don’t understand how good we have it.”
“And you think that’s going to help people understand?” Pablo gestured with his cigar towards the bumper sticker. The long ash tip on the cigar’s foot threatening to drop to the sidewalk.
“Maybe you could tell me, uncle?” Juan’s interest was sincere, “We learned in class that voting is the responsibility of every American.”
“So, you think elections are about voting?” Pablo’s eyes narrowed. “Juan, I thought you were smarter than that.”
“They’re not?”
“No,” Pablo chuckled. “Oh no, nephew. Elections are not about votes. Elections are just a business, like anything else. But the truth is that most people don’t bother to vote.”
“So, they tell us things to make more people vote?” Juan guessed.
Pablo chuckled, “No, that’s not it either. People are lazy. They’re never going to vote, no matter what you tell them. Votes don’t make presidents,” Pablo said as he pulled on his cigar. The long ash finally broke loose and landed. “I do.”
Juan stepped closer, cocking his head to listen, “How can you do that if people are lazy and don’t vote?”
This comment caused Pablo to burst into paroxysms of laughter, and he flung one great flabby arm across Juan’s shoulders. “Oh nephew!” Smoke trailed from his nostrils like some fantastic dragon of old. He wiped a mirthful tear away from his eye, “I like it when people don’t vote. That’s how I make my living!”
Pablo’s laughter was infectious, and Juan laughed with him, even though he didn’t fully understand the joke.
Pablo must have recognized Juan’s look as confusion and offered, “Let me put it this way. A vote is like a tortilla. One by itself makes no difference. The money goes to the man who can make thousands and thousands of tortillas and deliver them where they need to be at the right time.”
Juan rubbed his chin while he considered what he was being told. For the first time, he visualized elections as a business, “So… you’re the guy who delivers the tortillas?”
Pablo held his arms out wide, “There you go. Now you’re seeing it!”
“How?” Juan asked. “How do you get thousands of ‘tortillas’ if no one is voting, and you’re not trying to convince them they should?”
“How?” Pablo repeated, holding a finger to his lips to indicate silence, “I can’t tell you how I do it. It’s taken me years to learn, and it’s very complicated. But I could show you…”
Juan pushed Pablo’s arm away good-naturedly. “You’re just kidding me. Uncle Pablo, you talk a big game.”
“You don’t believe me?” Pablo placed his hands over his heart. “Nephew, I’m hurt! How long have you known me? Have I ever lied to you?”
Juan shot him a skeptical glance from the corner of his eye. “So, who do you sell ‘tortillas’ to?”
“I would sell tortillas to anyone who wants to buy them,” Pablo confessed in a rare instance of candor. “But it’s the Democrats that call me, wanting to make a deal. You’ll see. When the mail-in ballots come in this year, they will all be for your President Biden. Just like last time.”
Juan could believe it. The whole system is probably rigged.
Pablo grinned and winked, “There’s nothing they can do about it!” He pulled another long drag from his cigar, “I’m putting together a new crew this year. If you really want to help Biden, I could use a guy like you.”
What will Juan Do?
Choose Option 1: Find Another Way
Choose Option 2: Agree to Help Pablo