Hi, is ___ available?

Calling Strangers

I found myself standing at my desk, arms in the air, chair tipped over behind me, dog looking at me askance. My unexpected audible outburst echoed awkwardly through the silence of my home office. I can’t remember the last time I had spontaneously yelled aloud in involuntary celebration. For me, it’s the kind of thing reserved for major life moments: a race won, a rival opponent bested, a long anticipated job offer or a raise. Unmitigated joy and exhilaration wasn’t what I had expected from volunteering for a political campaign, in July no less and for a candidate that didn’t inspire me half as much as Obama had…but damn… it felt good.

I’ve been searching for my cause, my contribution to making the world a better place, for as long as I can remember. I organized a vote by mail campaign in the 2004 election at my study abroad in Australia. I canvassed twice for Obama. I’ve volunteered at soup kitchens, at food rescues, and Christmas gift deliveries. I’ve hosted charity art gallery openings and Instagram contests for climate change. I organized influencers in my sphere to push their audiences towards action during the 2018 midterms. I’ve marched for occupy, for women, for science, for the planet, and for Black Lives Matter. I’ve signed petitions, made calls, and written letters. I’m glad I did all those things, but after the initial satisfaction for having done something (anything), they often left me feeling small and a little empty. I know intellectually that every drop in the bucket is important but nothing I’d done felt like I was quite fulfilling my potential or pushing my biggest lever to effect change.

I signed up for the adopt a state program with tentative excitement but also a healthy dose of nerves. What if I had to call people? Did I know enough to have a political conversation with a stranger without embarrassing myself? I consider myself fairly well informed and I have strong opinions, but I don’t necessarily feel prepared for a spontaneous debate with a stranger that disagrees with me. The program started with an orientation call. I missed the live call but watched a recorded version on a road trip. They were hosted by Crooked Media (Jon Favreau, Obama’s head speechwriter’s, media company) and not only were they good road trip fodder but I left each one feeling motivated and inspired to dive into the work. Much of the direction was great life advice as much as good instruction for political persuasion.

Meet people where they are. Come with empathy. Tell the story of you, of us, and of now. Why are you doing this and why do you care? What does it have to with all of us and our shared values? And why is it important and relevant right now? This is not just good advice for canvasing and story telling but it’s how I want to be in the world as a person. I couldn’t wait to learn more and practice having these conversations but I was still nervous. I know I always feel good after I connect with a stranger but I always have a very hard time forcing myself to initiate an interaction. I’m not quite an introvert but I am independent and I definitely default to my own company much of the time.

Each call session starts with a Zoom meeting where an organizer gives the low-down and answers questions. You can return to the session to ask questions as you go along. You’re provided with a link to either an autodialer or a web-based app that runs you through a script and provides you with information about each person you’ll be contacting. On first read, the script sounded rote and robotic, not like me. Luckily, we were encouraged not to stick to the script verbatim but to use it as a guide and just have conversations with the people we were calling. In essence the script guided us through a small handful of questions, each question had a pull down menu with a multiple choice answer.

What issue matters to you most? This is the first question of almost every call. That question and the brief list of possible answers gave me one of those head slapping, “duh” moments when you realize something painfully obvious for the first time way too late in life. Already I was learning something from experience that I knew but hadn’t quite absorbed. No matter how radically far on any side of the political spectrum someone falls on, they probably truly care about at least one of the 10 things on that drop down menu. If the person is a Trump supporter, there’s a good chance that we disagree on the best way to address the issue, but we still care about the same thing. That simple question was the beginning of meeting someone where they are. Listening to their answer is the first step towards coming with empathy.

I still had yet to call my first voter and I already felt like this was all a valuable experience. I read and re-read the questions. I wrote my own version of the script and practiced cycling between the app and my notes. I was ready but was nervous enough that I asked my fiancé to leave the room and shut the door for my first call. I gave myself a pep talk. Ok… it’s a stranger in WI. Even if you screw up, you’ll never have to see or talk to the person again. I’m not a sweaty person but I could feel droplets of sweat dripping down my sides. It seemed silly. I make work calls to people I don’t know all the time and often those calls are of real consequence to my reputation and success of my business. But somehow I was legitimately nervous to ask a few relatively benign questions to a stranger across the country who I would never meet and wouldn’t know more than my first name. In hindsight, I think that this fear is a direct result of what we see in the media and on social media every day. Politics is something to fight about. You better bring your A-game or you’re going to get owned! The goal is to discredit and embarrass the other person in a battle.

First call. No answer. Second call. No answer. And so it went. It took about 10 calls to get my first answer. At that point I had already been lulled into a rhythm so it came almost as a shock.

I scanned back through the app, searching for the name I had been so cognizant of for the first 8 calls. Nervously blurted out, “Is Rene there?”.

“Speaking. Who’s calling?”

“My name’s Ian. I’m volunteering for the Wisconsin Democrats.” I could feel the nervousness vibrate in my voice, “We’re calling to talk to people about issues that they care about. We know you care because you’re a voter.”

“Democrats? Oh, you don’t want to hear what I have to say!” In a more aggressive than humored tone.

“Actually, I’d love to hear your perspective. That’s why we’re calling.” She didn’t hang up or cuss me out yet, “What issue that our country is facing currently is most important to you?”

I could hear her relax a little, “I’m really worried about healthcare honestly.”

“I understand! We hear that a lot.”

“I bet you do!”

We ended up talking for about 10 minutes. She was an undecided voter who leaned republican but was surrounded by a chatty room full of democratic friends. We ended up laughing together multiple times. She signed up for a Wisconsin Democrat yard sign for her friend. Over the course of the next hour I had half a dozen pleasant conversations with all kinds of people that cared about different issues.

There is a specific kind of giddy joy I get after a positive interaction with a stranger. It’s often when there is an unexpected connection; the person in the seat next to me is reading a book I love or listening to an obscure musician I like. It’s a life affirming feeling that breeds a greater feeling of connection and community when we’re so often fed reasons for misanthropy.

At the end of the session we checked back in with our Zoom calls. The thousands of people in attendance were broken into smaller break out sessions where we debriefed. We quickly met each other and began sharing. We laughed about the more ridiculous moments and congratulated the wins. Almost everyone had signed up at least on potential volunteer and many just had great conversations with undecided voters. At the end of the day, the group had texted 3,643,901 voters and called 54,028. Over 10,000 people pledged to vote and receive an absentee ballot. In 2016 Donald Trump won the state of WI by just under 23,000 votes. It was fun. I feel like a better person because of it. And it might actually make a difference! I’ll be volunteering at least once a week for the 98 days left before the general election. Join me!