Your vote counts!!!! (For what?)

The other day was Election Day; long live the tradition that is the backbone of every Democracy!

Being a sound American Chusid, I was all hyped to fulfill my civic duties.
After work I drove straight to the voting place, found parking a block away, and marched purposefully through the rain (no umbrella) to “choose” my next representative.

My shoes made squeaky noises as I trod on the freshly waxed floors, my targets were three little old ladies with blue hair sitting at a rickety desk looking very important.
“What’s you name, honey” asks one of them. “Chaim Chusid” I bark, back straight, looking her right in the eye. She looks through her register, “ok sweetheart go to line 123”. I resist the urge to salute, turn on my heel and walk towards the line she indicated.

I got into line, and started putting on my gartel, thinking about an appropriate “hininie michon” to say, when a very annoyed voice grumbled “Hold it right there sonny, I need to make sure your signature matches before you get on that there line!”
I looked down towards the voice, and there was a very sweet looking African-American female octogenarian about 4 feet tall, furiously waving a be-ringed finger at me.
At first I was at a loss for words, how did so small a thing create so big a sound? “Well, don’t just stand there, we have to match your signature, my desk is over there.” Obediently I followed her to her desk.

“Hmmmm,,, Kaim, Kaim,” she murmured as she ran her finger down the list, “nope no Kaim’s at the address you gave me” “But that’s my signature right there!” I protested, pointing to my name with the signature next to it. “That’s Tshaim, not Kaim,” she said with highly suspicious overtones.
After a lengthy explanation, and showing her my drivers license she agreed that Kaim and Tshaim and Chaim are indeed one and the same, and issued me a flimsy little piece of paper, which in turn granted me the privilege to get back into the line.

Back in line, my gartel firmly fastened, I am next to vote. As the lady in front of me goes into the booth, and the lever gets pulled I can’t help thinking about how funny it is that the world’s most advanced super power uses such an archaic method to choose its leaders. With all the computer advancements we develop you would think that someone would think about computerizing the system, after all the image of an average man going into a booth to pick his leader is the epitome of what America stands for. It’s a little odd that the image should contain machinery that has been around since the early 1900’s. A bit of an oxymoron but anyway I was the next one to vote.
I hand the lady my paper, get into the booth, click the thingies, B’dafkeh don’t vote for Hillary, (because I can) yank the lever, mission accomplished!

A lovely tale, here is my question:

We make an effort to go and vote, but do we accomplish anything?

I understand the argument that people in a neighborhood, be it chasidish or not, need to vote so that the candidates will take their requests seriously, but does it really make a difference?

At the end of the month will my taxes be lower? Will my kids have a better school? Will I be able to smoke in a restaurant or bowling alley?

Does it really matter who wins???