The fellow who seems to run the rented mail drop where our postal mail goes stopped me as I loaded today's haul into a cloth bag. "Are you the people who are working to end death sentences?"
"Yes. All this stuff that comes here is petitions collected by volunteers who are working to get the initiative on the ballot. We'll be getting 1000s more next week as we approach our deadline …"
"Well I want to sign that petition," he replied.
I'd never asked him. I'd never even thought about asking him. Aside from whoever owns of these grubby, crowded private depots, the work here look like minimum wage drudgery, punctuated by irritated and demanding customers. I've tried to be polite, even when I have thought the employees weren't taking particularly good care of our voluminous and valuable incoming mail. We get enough mis-delivered mail that I've wondered how competent some employees were at reading English.
But these too are voters -- at least this guy is. He'll get his chance to sign on tomorrow when I carry a petition in.
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