At precisely 7:20 this morning I handed my driver’s license over to the woman behind the table at the Cumberland Presbyterian Church along N. Western Ave.
This was my voting precinct and I was there to vote in the State Senate primary.
The poll worker opened her book and began searching for my name. She couldn’t find a match.
Finally, she asked my party registration.
“Oh,” she said, and then switched books and promptly found my name.
“I guess I have a face that says ‘Republican,’ ” I said as she handed the license back to me and had me sign my name.
After voting for my candidate — I’ll call her “Molly” — I grabbed the “I voted” sticker and walked out to my car.
But the encounter got me thinking about how we all stereotype the people we meet along the way.
And how wrong a judgment call made merely on appearance can be.