The Smile That Fired Me

It started with a smile.

They said they just wanted to “talk business.” Said we’d grab a drink, figure out next steps. FFTNL (Fédération des francophones de Terre-Neuve et du Labrador), a federally funded organization, had hired me to build their website. We had discussed the work before it began, and I was clear on what was expected. Eventually, however, this meeting wasn’t about feedback. It was about power.

He wasn’t just any contractor. Christian Courtemanche was a communications officer with FFTNL and a former RCMP member — and he knew exactly how to disarm someone. Calm tone, confident posture, the language of civility wrapped around an agenda that was never disclosed. It was a playbook designed not for discussion but for direction — and ultimately, dismissal. Warm tone, firm handshake — direction without dialogue.

In early 2003, for about a month, the project was progressing as expected. There were check-ins, and the tone remained professional. I had no reason to believe there would be a problem — until the tone shifted.

What came next wasn’t a conversation. It was a shutout. A full termination email, written in all caps, sent shortly after I posted a personal blog entry criticizing Bell’s dial-up service in rural Newfoundland — on my own website, unrelated to FFTNL(Fédération des francophones de Terre-Neuve et du Labrador). The only reason they even saw the post was because they wanted me to link my personal website on theirs — a recommendation I advised against, since it was not a work site. That’s what triggered the end. Not my work. Not any breach of contract. Just speech.

This is how consultation operates when governance is weak. In a setting where local strategy is discouraged, where real capacity is replaced by projects and proxies, charm becomes the mask for coercion. You don’t need hard authority when soft authority works just as well.⁴

And when that soft authority is backed by infrastructure monopolies — like Bell, the telecom provider responsible for all government phone lines in Newfoundland² — even the smallest public criticism becomes threatening. Control isn’t just institutional. It’s infrastructural.

They didn’t just want the website. They wanted the person who built it to stop thinking independently.

A Job Without a Compass

I wasn’t new to this kind of treatment. I had started the job at ARCO(L'Association régionale de la côte Ouest) in September 2002 under a supervisor named Yvette Bourque. She left after only two months — and with her departure, the clarity around my role vanished. I went five months, from November 2002 until April 2003, without any direct oversight. No explanation was ever given for her exit. The job, meant to focus on building a website and teaching after-school courses, quickly became aimless. No job posting ever appeared for the position Catherine Fenwick eventually filled. She wasn’t hired — she was installed. In contrast, I was actively trying to secure another opportunity: while working Saturday camp with Mandy Jesso (Rouzes) from Les Terre-Neuviens Français, I heard the current employee would be leaving for university. I asked if I could submit my resume and portfolio in advance so I wouldn’t have to rush when they eventually posted the job opening. I expected it to be held until they officially opened the position to the public. But no posting ever appeared. Instead, following their monthly board meeting, I was told they had reviewed my materials and decided to offer me the job directly — a decision Mandy Rouzes claimed they were allowed to make.

At the same time, Catherine had flown her brother home on ARCO’s dime to spend five minutes looking at my work. He had been laid off during the Nortel collapse — and yet his word was taken as credible evaluation. It was emasculating. But I thought I had a way out. The new job paid less and had fewer hours, but it felt like safety — away from ARCO (L'Association régionale de la côte Ouest).

The Offer That Unraveled

A stipulation of taking the job at Les Terre-Neuviens Français was that I begin immediately by working that coming weekend to open the French Centre for a youth dance. I agreed and followed through — happy to contribute and eager to prove myself in a healthier environment.

A few days later, when Catherine heard I was offered the job, she congratulated me on it. Then she flew to Ontario. The move didn’t sit well with me.

That same morning, I stepped out to use the restroom and, on my way back, glanced at the job posting window. I didn’t read it — I was too afraid. That same afternoon, Gloria Lecointre, who handled payroll, approached me and said, “If you take the job at the Cape, you’ll need to leave this one.” I responded, without hesitation: “Then I’ll take the one at the Cape — thanks.” It was a permanent position.

Gloria’s reply shocked me: “Well, you don’t have that job yet. The posting has been posted.”

I was floored. I couldn’t concentrate. About thirty minutes later, I left early. When Gloria asked why, I told her I wasn’t feeling well.

It was the first time I experienced dissociation in my life.

I left work early and went home, to call Mandy. Then I had Mandy on the phone asking me what was wrong. According to ARCO (L'Association régionale de la côte Ouest) — the oversight organization for Les Terre-Neuviens Français — I explained to her I was told I did not have the job. She contacted Judy Woods, who was president of Les Terre-Neuviens Français at the time (also Robert Cormier's sister), who confirmed I did have the job. This kicked off a flurry of tense phone calls, with Judy and Mandy both trying to get to the bottom of what had happened.

Finally, after 4 p.m. that day, Judy called me directly: "So do you want the job or not?"

I told Judy then — I didn’t want either job.

The next morning, I went to work, told them I was quitting, removed all my things from the office, and left. Catherine was in Ontario at the time, on the trip mentioned earlier. When she arrived back home to Newfoundland, she did contact me to offer the job back — said it was still there if I wanted it. I took a few weeks off.

Eventually, however, I returned out of necessity. Financial constraints — including a recent car purchase — forced my hand. Still, I had no will to work. They seemed to sense that. From that point on, they largely left me alone.

Structural Patterns, Not Personal Failures

This isn’t an isolated story. As documented in Van Assche et al.’s 2022 study on Newfoundland governance¹, these patterns — weak local structures, informal power networks, and the ritualization of consultation — are structurally embedded in the province’s political evolution. The 'local paradox' describes exactly what I lived through: grand initiatives like FFTNL(Fédération des francophones de Terre-Neuve et du Labrador) rely on the appearance of local participation, yet they thrive in spaces where that participation has no teeth.

The study outlines how decades of patronage, resettlement trauma, and fragile municipal governance have created an environment where strategic vision is replaced by projectism — a tendency described in development theory as the prioritization of short-term, quantifiable projects over structural change — where 'development' is measured in grant cycles and optics, not outcomes.⁵ ARCO (L'Association régionale de la côte Ouest) , FFTNL(Fédération des francophones de Terre-Neuve et du Labrador), and their regional offshoots didn’t just reflect this system — they reproduced it. Their behavior wasn’t an exception. It was a textbook example of what happens when consultation is managed from the top down, with no room for dissent or structural feedback.

In the fall of 2002, I also participated in a CBC interview⁸. Beforehand, I was warned to watch what I said, though the reason made no sense to me at the time. The real erosion began there. Over a decade later, ARCO (L'Association régionale de la côte Ouest) issued a formal letter of apology acknowledging the harm caused.³

The Consultant Who Closed the Door

One key episode during that time involved a consultant named Richard Martin, who had been hired to create Le Plan de la Péninsule — a tourism initiative meant to promote the Port au Port Peninsula, complete with glass-covered mould displays to be placed at strategic tourist stops. Richard approached me outside of my ARCO responsibilities, asking if I would create a PowerPoint presentation for a government briefing as a private contract — not part of my job.

When I attempted to clarify this during a meeting, Catherine Fenwick dismissed me outright, stating I would do the work at ARCO (L'Association régionale de la côte Ouest). When I tried to explain, Sandy Barter-Martin, who had hired me while she was a REDEE (Horizon TNL today) employee, interrupted and told me in French, “Don’t speak back, Catherine’s your boss,” despite knowing nothing about the actual situation.

I returned to my office angry and frustrated. Minutes later, Richard Martin came to the door, closed it behind him for privacy, and explained that Catherine didn’t know — that he hadn’t told her — and they would include a bonus on my cheque for the work.

I never saw that bonus. In the letter of apology, I was told to follow up with Richard directly. The pattern of exploitation, dismissal, and silence continued.

Parallel Systems, Same Playbook

That was one system. But the FFTNL(Fédération des francophones de Terre-Neuve et du Labrador) contract, unfolding in parallel by early 2003, was another — separate in structure, yet disturbingly familiar in tone. I was navigating both environments at once. At one point in June 2003, I approached Ali Chaisson directly to describe the abuse I was experiencing under ARCO (L'Association régionale de la côte Ouest). His response? He brushed me off. The dismissal was personal, cutting, and revealing.

The behavior may have worn different uniforms, but the tactics echoed. Christian Courtemanche and Ali Chaisson shaped both spaces — Christian as Ali's communications officer at FFTNL and through his role in the website contract, and Ali as the Director General of FFTNL(Fédération des francophones de Terre-Neuve et du Labrador), which oversaw ARCO. At the time, Ali was also the superior of Catherine Fenwick, the central figure in my ARCO (L'Association régionale de la côte Ouest) ordeal. Their influence spanned both institutions and extended into three local community organizations on the Port au Port Peninsula, and their tactics traveled with them. By then, it wasn’t a surprise. It was a pattern.

The Letter That Wasn’t Really an Apology

Twelve years after the fact, I received something that resembled accountability. It came in the form of a formal letter, dated November 11, 2015, signed by Megan Félix, President of L'Association régionale de la côte Ouest . At the time, I had once again raised the issue of the Richard Martin incident and the unpaid hours I worked during the June 2003 job confusion. I wanted acknowledgment. What I got was a letter that apologized in tone — but not in substance.

In their words, the board had conducted a full review and contacted all parties involved. But here’s what that amounted to:

“Regarding the verbal contract made with Richard Martin… we have concluded that we cannot be held accountable… We had no knowledge of this agreement and we encourage you to contact Richard Martin directly.”

Richard Martin had, at the time, closed my office door and told me Catherine didn’t know — that they’d make it right with a bonus. This letter, written over a decade later, simply absolved the organization of any responsibility. Not because it didn’t happen. But because they claimed they weren’t informed.

Then came the second issue — the unpaid five hours I worked at Les Terre-Neuviens Français on June 6, 2003:

“We contacted Les Terre-Neuviens Français as well as Judy Woods and Mandy Jesso… neither volunteer can confirm that you worked at the Centre for a period of five hours… although our association did not hire you and we have no documentation… we have decided to give you a cheque in the amount of $50.”

This was not payment for a confirmed job. This was hush money disguised as goodwill — an institutional shrug with a price tag. They acknowledged no wrongdoing, took no ownership of the coordination failure between their entities, and buried the entire thing under the language of “regret any hardship.”

Notably, they did not deny the event occurred. They simply framed it in a way that left them untethered. No records. No responsibility.

The letter closed with this line:

“We do not take these decisions lightly…”

But they did. The decision to keep Richard Martin’s actions outside their scope. The decision to erase the context that led me to work those hours without documentation. The decision to minimize the psychological and reputational harm of being triangulated between organizations — and blamed for it.

This wasn’t an apology. It was administrative distancing, a way to close a file without opening a wound.

It would take another encounter — a long conversation with a different Director General years later (Gael Corbineau, 2016) — to receive something closer to a real apology. But even that couldn’t erase the fact that institutional regret often arrives long after institutional control has done its damage.

Manufactured Consent in a Fragile Democracy

This is what Van Assche and colleagues call the local paradox: the illusion of democratic consultation in a place where neither strategy nor consent is truly permitted.¹ Grand schemes require local legitimacy to succeed — but that legitimacy is often manufactured through relationships, favors, and carefully curated civility. The goal isn’t cooperation. It’s control.

And that control is most effective when it looks like help. Especially when the language of collaboration is spoken fluently by communications officers, development consultants, and government affiliates who are trained to perform sincerity while advancing predetermined plans. When governance structures are thin and public trust is low, performance becomes everything — and those who dissent become liabilities to the illusion of consensus.

In a governance environment where institutional capacity is eroded, consultation becomes a ritual. A checkbox. A performance. They invite you to the table, not to hear you, but to say they did. Once your insight challenges the direction they’ve already chosen, the smile fades — and the muzzle is applied.⁶

You are not invited to shape policy. You are invited to decorate it. And when the performance is complete, your role is disposable.

When Consent Is Extracted, Not Earned

The irony is that these systems need people like me to function. Skilled locals. Independent thinkers. People who understand both the culture and the code. But instead of building partnerships, they build pipelines — extracting knowledge, sanitizing dissent, and rewarding those who say the right things in the right tone.

Consultation in these systems is not a tool for empowerment — it's a tool for extraction. You're included just enough to validate the plan, but never enough to change it.⁷ And if you question the agenda, your credibility becomes the cost.

When I was fired by FFTNL(Fédération des francophones de Terre-Neuve et du Labrador), it wasn’t just a lost job. It was a reminder: charm can be a weapon. And in places where governance is already fragile, it often is.

Final Note: The Performance of Listening

So the next time someone tells you they just want to talk business — be careful. You may be walking into a conversation where the decision’s already made, and your consent is just the decoration.

References

[1] Van Assche, K., Gruezmacher, M., & Ryan, B. (2022). The local paradox in grand policy schemes: Lessons from Newfoundland and Labrador. Scandinavian Journal of Public Administration, 26(2), 3–26. https://www.researchgate.net/publication/359935218_The_local_paradox_in_grand_policy_schemes_Lessons_from_Newfoundland_and_Labrador (local download)

[2] Government of Newfoundland and Labrador. (n.d.). Bell Canada Services for Government Departments. Internal procurement documentation (unpublished).

[3] Author's formal letter of apology from ARCO(L'Association régionale de la côte Ouest), November 2015. Document on file.

[4] Sharma, A. (2008). Logics of Empowerment: Development, Gender, and Governance in Neoliberal India. University of Minnesota Press. https://www.upress.umn.edu/9780816654536/logics-of-empowerment/

[5] Li, T. M. (2007). The Will to Improve: Governmentality, Development, and the Practice of Politics. Duke University Press. https://www.dukeupress.edu/the-will-to-improve

[6] Ahmed, S. (2017). Living a Feminist Life. Duke University Press. https://www.dukeupress.edu/living-a-feminist-life

[7] Cooke, B., & Kothari, U. (2001). Participation: The New Tyranny?. Zed Books. https://www.bloomsbury.com/uk/participation-9781856497947/

[8] Simon, H. (2002). Deux Terre-Neuve? Radio-Canada Atlantique. Retrieved from https://ici.radio-canada.ca/regions/atlantique/tele/Emi_Dossiers/Deuxterreneuve2_5981.shtml (local download)