What's the price of a signature?

Last night I made a late night run to the grocery store and was surprised to see a woman with a clipboard by the front entrance asking people coming in and out to sign some form of petition. It’s not uncommon to see this at Safeway; the entrance is a bottleneck for all traffic in and out and a favorite spot for pollsters and panhandlers alike. What was odd was that there would be someone collecting signatures at nearly midnight.

After scouring the aisles for the sale items so that I could have a decent meal with the six bucks I had in my pocket, I came out to find her still at it. Close up, she looked as though she might have been panhandling in the same spot if it were a different night. It wasn’t her missing teeth that gave me that impression. Instead it was the sad combination of her desperate body language and the dead look in her eyes.

«Will you sign a petition?» she asked.

I’m no longer in the habit of signing petitions. Especially here in California it’s too darn easy to collect the requisite signatures to get some boneheaded idea on the ballot. Yes, it’s democracy in action, but we’re not supposed to be a democracy. There is a complex system of checks and balances that, imperfect as it is, protects us not just from the tyranny of an elite, but also from the tyranny of the majority. Ballot initiatives are supposed to be another one of those checks and balances, not a primary form of getting legislation passed. Given that with enough money, you can pay people to stand in front of grocery stores until you get enough signatures, I think the whole system of ballot initiatives in California has been corrupted. I don’t even put my signature down for things I agree with.

I asked the woman if this were for a ballot initiative. She said that it was, so I apologized and began to move on. Then she asked, «are you a fan of Obama?»

Oh boy. There’s a question I can’t answer completely in one sentence. Am I a fan? Absolutely. Am I a supporter? No. But the woman with the clipboard instead of her front teeth had caught me off guard. She added, «I have Obama magnets.» It took me a moment for it to register: she was offering me an Obama campaign magnet for my refrigerator if I’d sign. I smiled and said, «thank you, no.» I started walking.

Then she dropped the bomb: «Please? They give me a buck fifty for each signature.»

I think it would have been insulting to explain that that was exactly the reason I was not signing. But it felt terrible to walk away knowing that this woman, obviously not a person of means, was working to put food on the table, and that my signature would cost me no money and gain her some. She was doing honest work for much-needed money.

But that is how crap initiatives get on the ballot: people sign because they don’t care, because they think it won’t hurt anything to get something on the ballot if they can vote against it later, to get these people with clipboards out of their hair. It’s a way for lobbying groups (whether grass-roots or corporate) to use money rather than popular support to promote whatever their agenda is.

If I’d had two dollars left in my pocket at that moment, I’d have given it to her. My endorsement for a piece of proposed legislation is not for sale. But last night, that decision hurt.