Last Tuesday, like most journalists, I took part in the time honored tradition of covering election night. I have been covering elections since 2000, and I’ve covered them under every title and setting imaginable. I’ve covered elections in the roles of a political correspondent, a reporter, an editor, a managing editor, and a digital director. I’ve covered them from a dorm room, a newsroom, a copydesk, and from my own home.
Just like I’ve done since 2000, I pulled together my best “Election Night Survival” kit and set up camp with a mountain of snacks, enough Coca-Cola to fill a semi truck, whatever chocolate was left over from Halloween and the knowledge that it was entirely possible I would spend the night waiting on votes to roll in at the same pace as a snail crossing through molasses.
Yes, after over two decades in this game, I’ve learned a thing or two about election nights. I’ve watched votes trickle in, recounts fizzle out, and, occasionally, Fulton County make such a mess of things that even the term “hanging chad” feels nostalgic.
Here are a few things all those nights have taught me:
It’s a Waiting Game
Election night isn’t the sprint to the finish that civics class and television networks led us to believe. Most of it is waiting, and I assure you, it’s as dull for the journalists as it is for everyone else. By 10 p.m., we’re all just staring at screens, waiting for those numbers to move as if we’re hypnotizing a pet turtle to make it race.
Back in the day, we were just waiting for enough votes to come in that one of the candidates would put their campaign out of its misery and concede. That makes covering elections a lot easier for local journalists, because then we don’t have to make predictions or do the required math to call a race.
In the post-concession speech era, we’re more careful on the local level about making race calls, because again — we aren’t that good at math.
Junk Food Is Not Optional
We start with good intentions, and election night pizza, but by hour four, Election Night devolves into a junk-food frenzy. Newsrooms transform into an unofficial snack bar, with everyone digging into their bags or their desks, or in some cases walking to the nearest gas station to refuel on salt and sugar. If you’re a voter watching results at home, know that we’re all in this together—bonded by a mutual craving for caffeine and chips.
There Are More Elections Than You Think
Did you think election coverage was just every fourth November? While most voters only focus on presidential elections, there’s an election somewhere every year— whether it’s the big show in a presidential year or a vote on the local coroner.
I’ve seen elections that were decided by just one vote. In local races on off-year elections, we’re talking about a couple hundred people deciding who the mayor is — which is kinda sad because most of the stuff you complain about isn’t handled by Washington D.C. If you care about street lights and potholes, a little bit of voting can cure your irritation.
Fulton County: Forever in Chaos
After the 2020 election, reporters from across the globe centered on Fulton County. Were there suitcases full of ballots? Why did they call it a night and try to go home early? Did anything unusual or fraudulent happen?
Folks, I’ve covered Fulton County elections for roughly 20 of the 24 years I’ve covered elections. Let me let you in on a little intel from a guy who’s covered their elections for longer than some of you have been alive: Elections in Fulton County have always been a disaster. This is not intentional, nor a conspiracy, nor anything more than the following two things.
1.) Fulton County is a huge county. It can take two hours to drive from one end of the county to the other, which is what some of the poll workers have to do to get the votes from the precinct to the central office.
2.) As Georgia’s largest county that also includes the massive city of Atlanta, it is also Georgia’s most bureaucratic county. Imagine if the DMV counted votes.
People who were surprised by their 2020 performance must not know Fulton very well. Around here, “election night” and “Fulton County” go together like “barbecue” and “milk.”
Your Vote is Counted. And Counted Again. And Again.
You might imagine your vote as a precious piece of cargo that’s counted with all the gravitas of a NASA launch. In reality, it’s more like a package that keeps getting rerouted—overseen, checked, and re-checked. It’s counted so many times I’m convinced they know your voting history better than you do.
The precinct you vote in tallies your votes and then posts them on the door. Then they go to election headquarters where the number of ballots are checked and officially counted.
After that the votes are certified and once again, the number of votes is verified yet again. We say every vote gets counted, but really every vote gets counted in some form or fashion repeatedly — and that doesn’t even count recounts.
Recounts Are the New “Refresh”
Shortly after election night, someone usually demands a recount, hoping to shift the outcome by some miracle. Also, in many counties, if the vote count is less than 1% difference in candidates, there’s an automatic recount.
Spoiler alert: recounts rarely make a difference, it may move a vote from column A into column B and a vote from column B into column A, but the chances of a recount changing the result are about as good as one’s chances of finding a clean bathroom in New Jersey.
After decades of covering recounts, I’m here to tell you they’re about as useful as adding another coat of paint to a chipped wall. Necessary, maybe, but it rarely changes the view.
It Really Does Take a Week (or More)
Yes, your local tv station and local news organization will call the race. Journalists know you want to be informed and we will either tell you who has won based on how the count is going and how many votes are left to count, or we will tell you who “appears to be winning.” Words and phrasing matter.
If you go to the Secretary of State’s website on election night to view the results as they come in (which is what journalists are doing, by the way) you’ll notice in big letters at the top of the screen it says “unofficial.” Why is it unofficial? Because every vote — every early vote, every election day vote, every absentee vote, and every overseas ballot — must be counted, checked more times than Santa checks his list, and then certified by an election board.
The official count has never been finished on election night. So why have you never heard of certification? It is largely procedural and most news organizations don’t cover it because there haven’t been changes to the overall count and nothing puts someone to sleep faster in a news article or newscast than words that exceed three syllables. See, your eyes just glazed over because there were too many multisyllabic words in this paragraph.
Election Eve: Voters’ Cram Session
If web traffic is anything to go by, a lot of voters do their research the night before the election, cramming in candidate bios like they’re finals notes for a test.
Every year since 2010, I’ve seen a spike in web traffic to election stories on the day before the election and the beginning of the day on Election Day. The candidates run for months — and in the case of presidential candidates, years — but there are a ton of voters who pay as much attention to the campaign itself as my six-year-old pays to his napkin at dinner. It just doesn’t come to mind.
For a surprising number of voters, the decision on who to vote for is made at the last minute. But we definitely thank you for the web traffic.
Note: This is an opinion article as designated by the the category placement on this website. It is not news coverage. If this disclaimer is funny to you, it isn’t aimed at you — but some of your friends and neighbors honestly have trouble telling the difference.
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B.T. Clark
B.T. Clark is an award-winning journalist with 25-years experience in journalism. His work has appeared in several newspapers throughout the state including Neighbor Newspapers, The Cherokee Tribune and The Marietta Daily Journal. He is the publisher of The Georgia Sun and a fifth-generation Georgian.