Leading up to the 2016 general election, the only thing I cared about was how many President Donald Trump jokes I could integrate into my high school sketch comedy show, and I deeply regret it. The morning after Election Day, I remember standing at my locker, full of remorse that I could have done more – that I could have done anything. Going into the 2020 general election, I knew I wanted to do things differently, but I didn’t have any sort of plan.

One day, I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts, “Lovett or Leave It,” and the host Jon Lovett talked about volunteering to canvas, which is the act of contacting people to promote political campaigns. I didn’t think much of it until he wrapped up by saying something along the lines of, “How do you want to feel the day after the 2020 election? I want to feel like I did all that I could.” 

Five days later, I was participating in phone banking for the first time in my life.

Before I started, I pictured phone banking as a scene out of “Sorry To Bother You”: a bunch of workers in cubicles talking in glib monotone. But that was absolutely not the case. Because of COVID-19, all of our canvassing was done virtually. I would join a Zoom call, get trained on what our objective was that day – whether it be identifying voters or getting out the vote – and then open the virtual phone bank website and get to dialing.

I called voters about once a week and really, truly loved it. I went to votesaveamerica.com and signed up with the “Adopt a State” program, an initiative to get people calling in a focused way. I “adopted” Arizona, because I thought I’d be able to relate to voters, given its proximity to California. I felt a surge of pride when it flipped blue. 

I began calling on behalf of candidates for the state House of Representatives and state legislature in Arizona’s 6th Congressional District, talking to people of all different kinds of ages, races and economic backgrounds. I had a fair amount of “stop calling me” responses, but also some really great conversations with people.

My sweet spot for that productive conversation was people in their 20s and 80s. I knew how to keep a college student who just woke up on the line, as well as a grandpa who just liked talking to someone. I grew attached to my district’s organizing team crew and I got really excited to see all their faces on Zoom when we joined for debriefs. 

I didn’t volunteer nearly as much as I wish I had; there were organizers on the team who were calling and campaigning every day. But I’m glad I did something. As we got closer to the election, I called on behalf of President-elect Joe Biden and Vice President-elect Kamala Harris in Pennsylvania and it became much easier, as I was familiar with the phone bank software and being hung up on. I felt an even bigger sense of pride when the Northeastern state flipped blue as well. 

I felt anxiety that Trump was going to win the reelection on the night of Nov. 3, but I also felt glad that I had helped in some small way. Often, we’re caught in this echo chamber of, “My vote doesn’t matter” or, “One person can’t make a difference.” 

But each time I called, I was overwhelmed by the sense that I was a part of something bigger. 

At the end of every session, we would check in, talk about our experiences and the organizers would share numbers. Even if we only made contact with 20 people in a session, it was something. It was progress. It was enough to get me to keep working. 

As much as there’s cause to celebrate right now, election season is not over. Control of the Senate is dependent upon two Jan. 5 runoff elections in Georgia. If you want to wake up Jan. 6 glad you did something, go to votesaveamerica.com and adopt Georgia. I know I’m going to.