Communication
Communication has been a huge part of my life, not just in my work, but in how I’ve built relationships, solved problems, and taught others. Over time, through trial, reflection, and necessity, I’ve come to understand that communication is about so much more than just “getting your message across.” I’ve learned how to tailor language, tone, and format depending on the audience, the context, and the pressure in the moment. I’ve learned to listen better, to simplify without talking down, and to ask the right questions so people feel heard and understood. All of this has allowed me to build trust, create clarity, and make people feel seen and understood.
One way I’ve learned to tailor non-verbal communication for different audiences was through a project I led involving USB pens for the Economic Development department. At the time, I was handling new resident inquiries on the economic development side, as well as new business onboarding through business licensing. Because I was the front-line contact for both, I had a clear window into what people were asking and what kind of information they were missing.
As I reviewed surveys from our Welcome Packages and fielded questions from newcomers and business owners, patterns started to emerge. That gave me the foundation to design two customized sets of USB pens—one for residents and one for business owners—with content specifically curated to each group. I included things like local service guides, startup checklists, bylaws, permit information, and community resource links, depending on the audience. I ran everything past the Economic Development Manager, who was supportive of the direction.
We had to work within a tight city budget, so it was also a lesson in balancing cost with impact. USB pens were a smart, reusable format that felt professional and a bit different from the usual brochure. They also had the city logo on them, which helped with brand consistency. The feedback we got—through surveys and in-person comments—was overwhelmingly positive. People appreciated not just the delivery method, but the fact that the information was useful and felt relevant to them.
What I took away from that project was how important it is to approach communication as a strategy, not just an output. I learned how to gather insights from the ground up, translate them into meaningful tools, and match format with function. It also reinforced how critical it is to think about the user experience, especially when you’re trying to make someone feel welcome, informed, and confident as they settle into a new community or start a new venture.
Later on, working in Development Services, I built on my communication skills in a whole new way. I was often the first point of contact for people trying to navigate zoning bylaws, business licensing, and development processes—many of whom had no background in planning or municipal rules. Every day meant adjusting how I explained things based on who I was speaking to. With experienced developers, I could use technical language and industry terms because they understood the system and the local process. But with homeowners or first-time applicants, it was a different story. I had to explain complex policies in plain language without ever sounding condescending. I learned how to break things down step by step, using real-world examples and analogies to help people feel like they could understand and manage the process, even if it was brand new to them.
One of the clearest examples of how I used communication to improve both public service and internal workflows was the Property Search Request process, which I developed from the ground up. It started after a legal training session with a municipal lawyer, where I asked questions about homeowners’ rights to access their own property records. I followed up with our Corporate Officer, who confirmed that FOI requests weren’t always the best fit for that kind of information. I brought the idea to my manager – proposing a faster, more straightforward way to give people access to their property’s building and permitting history. He supported it, and I moved forward.
I created the form, wrote plain-language instructions, and built the process around transparency and ease of use. There was some pushback at first, mostly around the fee, $75 compared to the $10 FOI charge. But once people realized they’d receive more complete information and get it three to four times faster, the reaction shifted. The feedback became overwhelmingly positive. Staff time was better accounted for, the Corporate Services department wasn’t bogged down with misdirected FOIs, and homeowners and realtors had a new, efficient way to access what they needed.
That experience taught me a lot about how front-line communication can directly shape policy and process. I saw how clear, accessible language and a willingness to ask the right questions could spark meaningful improvements, both for the public and for internal systems. It also reinforced something I’ve seen again and again: when you take the time to communicate clearly, respectfully, and with the audience in mind, you build trust. And that trust makes everything work better—from council-level decisions to a homeowner finally understanding what their zoning means.
Outside of work, some of the most meaningful communication I’ve done has been as a single parent. I made it a priority to talk to my daughter about real-life topics like taxes, RRSPs, politics, and credit – basically all the “boring adult stuff” no one really teaches you, but you absolutely need to know. I quickly learned that these conversations had to be engaging, or I’d lose her. So I kept things casual, added humour whenever I could, and always made sure she knew there was no such thing as a dumb question.
The tone shifted depending on what we were talking about. If we were discussing RRSPs, I might joke about being old and wanting to enjoy my money while I could. If we were diving into politics, I’d sometimes poke fun at the more ridiculous ideas floating around in party platforms, but then bring it back to what really mattered so the message didn’t get lost in the humour. I wanted her to think critically, not just repeat what she’d heard. I always emphasized that her choices were hers to make. My role was to give her the tools to understand things, not to decide for her.
Over time, our conversations evolved. When she was younger, I’d use analogies or examples from her own world, like comparing budgeting to how she spent her birthday money. As she got older, I shifted into more of a guide than a teacher, letting her take the lead and ask questions, even the awkward or “obvious” ones, without ever making her feel like they were silly. That safe space built her confidence. One of those proud “she really got it” moments was when she came home and told me how she’d been talking to her friends about voting, explaining the different political parties and telling them they needed to figure out what mattered to them—not just vote the way their parents did. That’s when I realized she wasn’t just parroting facts—she understood the deeper value of independent thinking.
Teaching her taught me just as much. It reminded me how important it is to communicate in a way that empowers, not just informs. With adults, like colleagues or the public, I’m usually more direct and assume a base level of knowledge. But with kids or anyone unfamiliar with a topic, you have to slow down, read the room, and build that understanding piece by piece. Parenting showed me how humour, empathy, and genuine respect go a long way, especially when you’re trying to explain something complex without making someone feel small.
One of the most powerful tools I’ve developed is the ability to ask the right questions. Whether I’m working with coworkers, the public, or my family, I’ve learned that a well-placed, non-leading question can reveal more than a whole paragraph of explanation. It’s something that’s helped me resolve issues faster, understand people more clearly, and make others feel genuinely heard. I didn’t realize at first how much skill this took, but over time, I’ve learned to slow down and really listen, to wait before speaking, to notice what’s not being said, and to check for understanding rather than just push through a conversation. It shows people you’re truly paying attention and not just waiting for your turn to speak.
Evidence supporting Communications
1.1 Redesigned city form (property search request)
1.2 Screenshots of USB Pens for Port Alberni residents
1.3 Email to residents regarding short-term rentals
1.4 Written reflection on parenting and household management