Voting clerks are ancient, palsied, and deaf. I learned that when I was six years old and evidence to the contrary has not been overwhelming.

Except that I started serving as a voting clerk a year ago. I'm not palsied or deaf, though I may look ancient to anyone under 40.

Why do I do this?

I asked myself that a lot on "Super Tuesday," when California held it's primary. In my state, election workers must arrive at the polling place an hour before voting begins, at 6 a.m. The clerks must work through the entire election day: not only till the polls close at 8 p.m., but after. We stay and count the ballots. So we're on the job from 6 a.m. to 9 p.m.--why on earth would anyone do that?

Corny as it sounds, most people who work at the polls consider it a civic duty. We're there because everyone has the right to vote, and we support that. We're enablers, in a good way: enabling people to vote.

But in this last primary election, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong at my polling station. I can only be grateful that I wasn't in charge.

The ballot reader (a machine that scans ballots for double-votes, then tallies the number of ballots cast) wouldn't work and we had to wait hours for a replacement. . . . The manicured, bouffant-haired, and--yes--deaf lady who signed people in spilled coffee all over the official register. . . . The man in charge had been up for three nights with a son about to undergo open-heart surgery. He was so sleep-deprived and worried that he couldn't focus or give directions. . . . We got so busy that no one could take a dinner break, and to top it off the room's heater didn't work.

We even had a crazy extremist visit, who demanded to vote, but refused to abide by the rules. He shouted that he was an American citizen, by God, and he had the right to vote for anyone he wanted to. If we stood in his way, we were all breaking the law and he was going to report us!

In California, we have a provisional ballot. It's really a provisional ENVELOPE. If there's any complication that casts doubt on your right to vote--if you're not on the register, for instance, you still vote. But your ballot goes into a big pink envelope with your name and a description of the problem.

Overnight or in the next few days, someone checks the information, makes sure it's all legit, opens the envelope and counts the ballot.

So, in spite of all the problems and upsets, the system worked. Everyone who came to our polling place got to cast a ballot--even Mr. Crazy Extremist. Thanks to provisional envelopes, we didn't have to act like police, or guards. There were lines, and coffee stains on the register--but everyone voted!

So the next time you vote, and an octogenarian clerk asks you to repeat your name or address, stares blankly and asks if John is spelled with a D or an R, resist the temptation to yell. Here's the most constructive thing you can do:

Volunteer. Help out at the next election.

Seriously. Every citizen should do it at least once. If you live in a democracy, support it. At the very least, you'll acquire increased patience, fortitude, and empathy. You will realize how amazing it is that democracy works, in spite of the flaws, mistakes, deafness, and failings of people in general.