On April 28th, 2025, I did something I’d never done before: I worked at a polling station. It was the day of one of the most historic Canadian Federal elections, and I was in the thick of it. Twelve hours of helping strangers register to vote, answering questions, filling out forms, and making sure everyone could cast their ballot. There were also 4 more hours for setup, vote counting, officially packing everything up, and finally, cleaning up the gym. It was long. It was tiring. And honestly? It was a pretty rewarding experience that I never really thought I would ever do.
I was a Registration Officer, which is a fancy way of saying I was the guy helping people who showed up without a voter information card, or those who had moved, or whose info needed updating. Basically, if your voting situation was even slightly wonky, you came to me. Well, if your last name fell between G-Q.
What struck me most was how many people had some kind of hiccup in their paperwork, but still made the effort to vote. They came with passports, bills, leases, ID cards, screenshots, and yes, sometimes just a friend to vouch for them. Some showed up nervous, not quite sure if they’d be turned away. I got to be the person who reassured them they could vote, and here’s how. The only people we could not help were those outside of their designated area. I have a story to share about that later.
It was pretty cool to see people’s faces light up when we assured them they could still vote and fairly quickly.
The Process: Not Exactly Glamorous, But Impressive
I won’t lie, the training beforehand made me wonder what I’d gotten myself into. Elections Canada doesn’t mess around with preparation. Videos, manuals, role-playing scenarios—it was like onboarding for a job that lasts exactly one day. But once the doors opened and the voters started coming in, it all made sense.
There’s a quiet efficiency to the polling station. Each person has a role, and when it clicks, it feels like a human assembly line of democracy. One person greets voters, another checks for a VIC and ID, two other people and I handle registrations, and then they head to the ballot. Simple, right? Well, unless it’s 5:30 p.m., there’s a line out the door, and you’ve got someone who brought a fishing license and a handwritten letter as ID.
One man was with us for over an hour, getting help from pretty much everyone in the room, and in the end, he was not able to vote in our location, but we did send him to the right place.
But even those moments have a charm to them. You start to see how seriously people take their right to vote, even if they don’t totally understand the paperwork. And when someone doesn’t have the proper ID, you see their disappointment. That part’s hard. But you know what. Every single person who didn’t have the right paperwork said they would be back, and they did come back. We tried to help everyone, but the rules are there to protect the system, not punish the voter.
Short story about this. If you didn’t know, as long as you are in line as of the polls closing, you still get to vote. As the end of voting drew near, we were all starting to clean up and get ready to count. Then two people came in. They were our last visitors for the day. It was even announced to the whole gym – these are the last two!. There was some excitement to it. Like getting to the last page of a book. Even the two people seemed excited to be called out for being the last two. We all kind of watched. Mostly because we wanted it to be over quickly, but it wasn’t quick. After a few minutes, it was determined they were in the wrong location and could not vote. Since it was the end of voting, they missed their chance. They were sad. We were bummed out for them. But that’s how it breaks sometimes.
The Voters: A Cross-Section of Canada
Throughout the day, I met people from every walk of life. Seniors who could barely hear me but weren’t about to miss a vote. Parents with strollers and dogs. New Canadians, nervous and proud, casting a ballot for the very first time. Young voters who admitted they’d never paid much attention to politics before but wanted to be part of the process now. One person even told me they didn’t know how to vote until their friend explained it over coffee that morning.
There was one mom who was so excited, she was telling everyone who would listen that it was her daughter’s first vote. The daughter, meanwhile, was trying to hide in plain sight. We even joked that there should be a bell that first-timers get to ring.
And then there were the veterans of the voting booth—the folks who had their ID, their card, and a plan. They breezed through, always thanking us for our work.
There was a quiet dignity in it all. People still care—even if they’re frustrated by the state of Canadian politics, even if they’re not sure it’ll make a difference. They still come out. They still vote. And I got to help make that happen.
What I Learned
First off: democracy is exhausting. Sixteen hours on the job, explaining forms, flipping through paperwork, listening closely, problem-solving on the fly—it’s no joke. I slept like a rock that night and woke up feeling like I’d run a civic marathon.
But more importantly, I walked away with a renewed sense of pride in our system. For all its flaws, Canada’s election process is designed to be open, fair, and accessible. And being part of it—even in a small, bureaucratic way—was deeply fulfilling.
I also learned that the little moments are what stick with you. Like the guy who brought in his teenage daughter just to show her what voting looked like. Or the woman who almost cried when I told her she could vote, even though she’d moved and didn’t get her card in the mail. Or the first-time voter who asked if she could take a photo outside the station with her sticker (spoiler: we don’t have stickers, but she took the photo anyway).
It was also fun to see all the people coming in who had attended the school where we were set up. They were remembering the gym and telling stories of their youth. One older gentleman was trying to find banners from the sports teams he was on.
Would I Do It Again?
Maybe. It was not as bad as I thought it would be, but there were some aspects that were a little outdated in my opinion. Especially when it came to tallying votes at the end of the night. I learned that Federal still does everything old school. Counting it all by hand and packaging things up with many official onlookers. Provincial and Municipal elections use a lot more technology to quickly tally votes.
But I will say there’s something grounding about spending a day seeing people come together for something bigger than themselves. It reminds you that democracy isn’t just about politicians and platforms. It’s about people. And on that day, I got to help them be heard.
Next time there’s an election, don’t just vote—consider working at your local polling station. I plan on recommending the opportunity to my kids when they are old enough. There are many different jobs depending on what you want to do. Simply talking and greeting people, to managing the whole process.
You’ll get a behind-the-scenes look at one of the most important systems in our country. And you’ll walk away tired, yes—but also proud.
