Count staff are the real heroes of the tally

Around election time, we are reminded of the superhero tallymen (and it’s always men, isn’t it; women don’t practice such dark arts) and their mystical ability to predict the outcome of the first count, at least, based on a cursory glance at the papers as they are tipped out of the ballot boxes for official counting. 

Politicians, journalists, hairdressers, van drivers all speak in revered tones of these heroes of Irishness. We all have our own romantic stories of how, not only do these mythical creatures know the exact amount of votes cast for each candidate in each ballot box, before the official count has begun, but they also, somehow, know who voted for whom, in the private sacred space behind the screen of the polling booth on polling day.

Not unlike many other fables, the truth is far from that, of course.

Sure, the (mostly – but not exclusively) men, line up outside the barrier. And yes, boxes are tipped out on the benches just inside. But rather than using supernatural powers to predict the result, the tally process involves another bunch of superhuman individuals. The counters.

The tallymen (yeah, let’s refreshingly go with that old-fashioned term) bring their wives’ bingo clipboards (why not – the men make the magic; the women go to bingo!) with sheets attached, with a hastily-scribbled list of candidates, and a couple of lines on top for the polling station details and box number. But the votes are not tallied as the boxes are emptied.

The counters unfold the papers and place them flat on the bench, face outwards, for the tallymen to see. As each paper is placed, the tallyman scans it, identifies which candidate the vote is for, and marks it on his sheet, on his wife’s bingo clipboard. What a hero.

‘Runners’ gather the sheets as they are filled out and bring them to a central point for tabulation. (It’s a bit like an Irish Dancing Feis - if you were ever at one - but we won’t go there now.) And there, a volunteer will tot them up to predict a first count.

The key ingredient in all this is the role of the counting staff. Without their cooperation, there would be no tally. They could easily face the ballots inwards, or face down, or a mixture of both, or go so fast as it would be impossible to scan them. But no. They do it in a consistent, professional and courteous way. And it is they who make the tally possible.

Cynics will say they get paid for it. They don’t. They get paid to count the votes. And after the length of this summer’s Euro count, I’d say the novelty of the money soon wears out. This is just a community service they provide parallel to the official gig. It is they who cook the gourmet feast that feeds our insatiable appetite for most Irish of Irish phenomena – the tally. The real heroes.