Scrolling through Instagram while waiting for a pickleball court at City Park, I noticed a post from Elevate Utah that stopped me in my tracks. Utah had finally struck down gerrymandered voting maps.

Elevate Utah illuminated the story about our state’s landmark redistricting victory and urged voters to take action to protect the decision. Linking to 5calls.org, it was a no-brainer to locate the name and contact info for state Rep. Melissa Ballard. As legislators were already scrambling for an appeal, the message to representatives was to respect the court’s ruling, not delay the November deadline and ensure Utahns get fair maps.

So I did what any self-respecting Utah voter with an iPhone and long-ass wait for a pickleball court would do. I called.

Imagine my shock when Rep. Ballard herself answered.

I asked her about the gerrymandered maps, hoping for clarity. Instead, I got a monologue that may as well have been delivered in Mandarin Chinese by a Scotsman. Rep. Ballard told me she was a “process person.” Which, as far as I could tell, meant she had become one with the process itself in some kind of bureaucratic mind-meld.

All I heard was a word salad of “initiative alignment,” “executive review,” and “Attorney General compliance,” like she was throwing out options at a conference on political jargon, sponsored by PowerPoint. I’m pretty sure I blacked out halfway through and came to only when she said, “But really, it’s all out of my control.”

I said, “Can I just ask you one more quest—”

“I-I’m literally walking into a meeting right now,” she said, cutting me off.

“Real quick,” I interjected. “What do you really think about the gerrymandered maps?” I asked just as she hung up.

“Excuse me,” I heard someone behind me say. I turned to see a guy with neon shorts, a gray beard and a hat that said “Holey Balls.”

“The name’s Jerry. Jerry Mander — and no, I’m not the one that carved up Utah like a Fresh Market rotisserie chicken. Everyone’s a goddam comedian. I almost got dis-invited to a wedding last week because the mother of the bride said she didn’t want me redrawing the seating chart. I had to go to the post office to pick up some mail that got misdelivered. They said it was because my address wasn’t in their district anymore. Even my barber won’t book me an appointment for a beard trim because he says it’s technically in District 4.

“For the record, I’m a guy, not a district. I live in Jeremy Ranch. What happened in 1812 stays in 1812, if you ask me. I’m just trying to play pickleball in peace. I didn’t ask to be the poster boy for crooked elections.

“That said, my wife doesn’t help my case. She’s obsessed with redrawing the court boundaries at The Marc. Last week she showed up with duct tape, three traffic cones and a bullhorn and declared the baseline Pickleball District 7. The tennis players are threatening to secede and form their own republic.”

“Hey, sorry, Gerry,” I said. “No dis intended. I was just on the phone with our state legislator urging her respect the anti-gerrymandering ruling and not delay the process. I mean, a delay could hurt us all.”

Just then a small woman in a leopard visor walked up.

“Delay? I’ll give you delay. Where the hell you been Jerry? I’ve been waiting for you on the other side for over 20 minutes. Everyone always assumes I’m the one wasting time, but I’ve been five minutes early to every HOA meeting since 1998. Meanwhile, Jerry’s out here Jerry-Mandering the sidelines like it’s a full-time job.”

“Anyway, I don’t mean to be rude,” the woman said glancing my way. “The name’s Lolly. Lolly Gagg. And I don’t have time for this.”