I live and work in one of the central nodes of the great blue State of California, so I was careful to be non-committal about the election results this morning. The Financial District is populated with a certain type---forty-ish knowledge workers, bright and articulate, many of whom have postgraduate degrees and who obsess about maintaining their physical appearance. These estimable individuals lose all sense of decorum when someone makes mention of George W. Bush.
The gloom was palpable in the elevator. One lawyer heard that John Kerry was preparing to concede: “Did you hear Kerry was going to call Bush?” I said, “Call him what?” He laughed ruefully and by his “Right on!” I knew that he thought that I shared his sympathies. I felt guilty for not correcting this misconception, but it helps me get along with people in the office by keeping my political views in the closet.
The funereal mood poured out of the elevator into the hallways. I greeted the long faces with a somber “Good morning”, excising the chirp from my voice. (If I were roundly thrashed by an idiot who tells transparent lies, I would be despondent, too.) I didn’t talk about the election until late afternoon, when the one LDSer on my floor stopped by.
There was no triumphalism; a brief contemplation of the widely acknowledged flaws (even by his supporters) of the winner quickly instills a sober attitude.
If the results were reversed, I wonder, would the other side have suppressed its desire to gloat?
I got some good stuff tonight, but I already received my birthday present when I woke up this morning.
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