Election Night 2026 • Vote Raccoon
A once-in-a-generation candidate. A once-in-a-generation platform. The Office Raccoon is running for President of the Office, and the polls do not lie.
A snack drawer overhaul with live public inventory. If the Skittles run out, the whole office finds out within sixty seconds.
Meetings capped at twelve minutes. Ferrets deployed at thirteen. Productivity has never been more terrified, or more effective.
Every executive decision dragged into the alley for public review. If it can’t survive a raccoon at 3 AM, it does not belong in the five-year plan.
The Platform
Every promise below has been peer-reviewed by at least one raccoon and approved by the candidate’s legal team, which is also a raccoon.
A live, publicly-accessible inventory of every snack in every kitchen drawer, refreshed at the top of each hour. No more mystery granola bars. No more hoarded fun-size candy. When the Skittles run out, the whole office will know within sixty seconds, because I will personally scatter the empty bag across the finance floor.
Productivity is a myth invented by people who have never curled up on a warm keyboard. Under my administration, all overhead lighting will dim between 2 and 4:30 PM, meetings will be replaced with quiet contemplation, and any manager caught scheduling a stand-up in this window will be gently rolled into a filing cabinet until they reflect on their choices.
Every executive decision, quarterly report, and strategic pivot will be dragged out of the boardroom and into the alley behind the building, where it will be examined, sniffed, and possibly eaten in full public view. Leadership must be lived, not filtered through a Slack channel. If it cannot survive being knocked over by a raccoon at 3 AM, it should not be in your five-year plan.
Any meeting that runs longer than twelve minutes will trigger the automatic release of small, well-fed office ferrets. This is not a threat. This is a productivity tool. Attendance will improve. Agendas will get shorter. Nobody will schedule a recurring Friday afternoon check-in ever again. The ferrets are watching.
Every expense will be reported in plain, unflinching language. "Team-building offsite" becomes "expensive lunch in the shape of teamwork." "Consulting engagement" becomes "we paid someone to say what we already knew." I will personally review every submission with my paws and my conscience, which are functionally the same organ.
Under this administration, every employee will be issued one (1) shiny object of their choosing on their first day. Bottle caps. Loose keys. Aluminum foil sculpted into something vaguely emotional. Studies I have not read confirm that morale improves 400 percent when workers have access to a personal shiny object. This is science. This is also policy.
No intern will ever again be asked to fetch coffee, book a conference room, or explain what a spreadsheet is to a Vice President. Interns will be paid in real money AND snacks. Small rodents on the premises will be granted voting rights on all catering decisions. This is my most controversial policy. I stand by it entirely.
Election Night Tracker
Updated hourly. Margin of error: whatever the raccoon decides.
Current Leader
The Office Raccoon
Lead
+41 pts
The Office Raccoon
Independent, Trash Party
Chad Bradley
Incumbent, Very Anxious
Undecided
Still confused about the raccoon situation
Write-in: Another Raccoon
The raccoon’s cousin, Steve
Total sampled: 100% • Sample size: the entire third floor • Methodology: whispers
Endorsements
A broad, unlikely, and slightly damp coalition of supporters.
“I don’t normally endorse candidates, especially ones who eat out of the trash. But the raccoon has vision. The raccoon has energy. The raccoon has, frankly, done more for this office in one week than the entire management chain has done in three fiscal years.”
Winston Whiskers
Senior Office Cat, Eleventh Term
“The raccoon negotiated my snack pricing down by 40 percent using nothing but eye contact and mild property damage. I have never been more terrified. I have never been more efficient. Vote raccoon.”
The Third-Floor Vending Machine
Beloved Kitchen Fixture, Est. 2011
“Look, I have to clean up after the raccoon every morning. But I also have to clean up after the CFO every morning, and at least the raccoon leaves a note. The note is a chewed-up receipt. But it’s a note.”
Denise from Facilities
Only Person Who Has Actually Met the Raccoon
“The raccoon promised us new keyboards. The raccoon delivered new keyboards. They are all slightly damp and smell faintly of garbage, but they work. This is more than any past administration has done for IT.”
The Entire IT Department
Basement, No Windows
Debate Night Recap
A full transcript is unavailable due to what the moderator described as “incidents.” Highlights below.
The candidate approached the podium, made prolonged eye contact with the moderator, and then physically pushed the podium over. This was ruled a “strong opening” by the debate commission and drew a standing ovation from the crowd.
When asked about fiscal responsibility, the candidate produced a half-eaten sandwich from an unknown source and placed it gently on the debate table. Analysts remain divided on the meaning, but the sandwich was universally praised.
In a viral moment, the candidate turned every one of its (surprisingly numerous) pockets inside out on live television, revealing seven bottle caps, a small key, and a receipt from a gas station in Tulsa. Analysts called it “the most transparent moment in modern debate history.”
The candidate stared unblinking at the camera for a full ninety seconds, then climbed onto the podium, opened a ceiling tile, and disappeared. Post-debate polling showed a fourteen-point surge. The ceiling tile has not been replaced.
The Opposition Speaks
In the spirit of radical transparency, we’ve printed our opponents’ complaints in full. They are all technically correct.
I have raised approximately eighteen concerns about the raccoon’s candidacy, ranging from “is a raccoon technically an employee” to “why is my desk chair full of trash.” I have received zero responses. The raccoon does not use email. The raccoon does not attend our meetings. The raccoon is winning.
Regional HR Director
Opposition Statement, filed in triplicate
My opponent is a raccoon. This should be disqualifying. Somehow, it is not. I have run a clean campaign on a platform of “normal human governance,” and I am currently polling behind a nocturnal mammal that keeps stealing my campaign posters and using them as bedding.
Chad Bradley
Rival Candidate, Increasingly Nervous
We’ve tried to remove the raccoon from the premises seventeen times. On the eighteenth attempt, the raccoon removed US from the premises. We do not know how. We were the ones with the badges. We would like to formally withdraw our objections.
Building Security
Formerly Opposed
On the Trail
The candidate will appear at each of these locations. The candidate may also appear at other locations, uninvited, at any time.
Fri Oct 3, 11:47 PM
Behind the recycling bins, near the good garbage
Opening act: Two crows
Tue Oct 7, 2:03 AM
On top of the fridge, under the fluorescents
Special guest: The office ficus
Sat Oct 11, 9:15 PM
Column 14, near the leaky pipe
Fireworks (unauthorized)
Mon Oct 20, 3:30 PM
Under the projector, above the ceiling tiles
Final rally before election night
Paid for by the Committee to Elect a Raccoon
The raccoon does not have a website. The raccoon does not have an email address. The raccoon does not have thumbs. The raccoon does, however, have your best interests at heart, and roughly seventeen small, well-placed teeth.
No raccoons were harmed in the making of this campaign. Several ficus plants, however, are unaccounted for.