I used to be a bank teller, and the day after the last presidential election, after our management’s unprofessional victory laps behind the teller line, I cried at my window.  The woman who I was waiting on at the time held my hand.  The gesture and talking to her encouraged me to volunteer for efforts that I believed in (it only lasted about a year, but still).  I left that job position a few months later, but I always remembered her because she was nice and wore ridiculous hats, and we shared a disappointment together.  Let’s hope that tomorrow at work I only cry in physical or emotional, non-political pain.