The Ongoing Adventures of Stupendous Girl!

The Counters Trump the Counted 01 Aug 2009

“I still can’t believe we lost.”

With the special combination of exhaustion and despair that can only come from running a months long political campaign, being sure you were going to win, and then coming up just short, Julie Nyerere slumps in her chair. Seeing the defeat etched across her tired body, her friend and now former campaign manager tries her best to offer hope for the future.

“It was only 400 votes. Well, 412 to be exact. Still, close enough that we might still be able to file for a recount. We did hear some stories from our people at the polls. There’s something fishy about this election, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we couldn’t generate real light and heat out of contesting it.”

“No, Alex. I mean, you might be right, but that would tie up the city for months, and it’d spend all my political capital, even if we could win. I might get another shot at this in four years.”

Alex looks on sceptically, not wanting to tell her friend what everyone on the campaign knew – this was their best, probably their only shot to elect the openly socialist councillor to the mayor’s office. In four years, though she didn’t know who it would be, someone from the center or center-left would rise as a credible challenger, would almost certainly win, and would suck up all the oxygen for a campaign from even farther to the left.

“If that’s the way you want to play it.”

“I think it’s best.”

Julie was now sitting up a bit again, her posture much less obviously that of a shell-shocked loser and again that of a tireless and passionate warrior against injustice. Alex could instantly tell her friend was not reacting out of misplaced grief or frustration, but out of conviction.

“We did take a partial victory out of this. Coming so close really weakened Richards. Besides, we got a couple of new councillors in, both of them better than they guys they replaced. We might be able to get a workable majority every once in a while, now that everyone has seen Richards is vulnerable.”

Alex nods, seeing the point in her long-time friend’s argument. It wasn’t the victory they’d been hoping for, but it wasn’t nothing either. It moved the ball down the field, and gave them some tools with which to better fight for a progressive vision of Port Manteau, one issue at a time.

“Yeah, I really like the new guy in Ward 3, what’s his name? Ramsay? If you get him on board, he could really help us swing the middle of the council.”

“That’s my hope, anyway. I think we can start feeling a little bit less like an opposition block, and a bit more like a power centre on the council. But I’ll figure that out, talk to him later. For now, I was thinking we could spend the rest of the night moping?”

Alex had to laugh at the self-aware suggestion, coming from a woman who had never given herself the time to mourn any defeat, at least not publicly, as long as she’d known her.

“Moping it is. Maybe we could rent a terrible movie and eat ice cream too?”

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