“We wanted to create a space that would entice people to come back to the office,” says Kristin Taylor, managing partner, who was heavily involved in the design process. Back during Covid, after a virtual quarterly town hall, an employee who was working in the old office told Taylor that the space’s dark, closed-off layout—as well as the absence of colleagues and the general gloom of the pandemic— was seriously affecting his mood and morale. That conversation inspired the core of the new design, which would centre on the “right to light”—an approach that makes sure everyone has ample access to natural light, whether they’re a partner or a paralegal.

Dim corridors and closed-off cubicles went the way of dial-up internet; the new design standardized the size of offices, moved them away from the building’s perimeter and scrapped drywall for glass, allowing natural light to penetrate into the interior. It embraced an open floor plan, reducing the number of walls and cutting the height of cubicle dividers in half, which makes for a more convivial and collaborative environment.

The design also prioritized communal space. The firm introduced self-serve café lounges—stocked with Balzac’s and Pilot coffee and Numi tea—on each of the office’s five floors. These function as informal meeting spaces and include banquettes, cushioned chairs and small tables. Boardrooms now look like high-end lounges, complete with plush, cozy armchairs and couches. There’s also a 185-square-metre wellness centre that includes yoga and meditation spaces and a Peloton room.

For Taylor and the design team, thoughtfully accommodating employees’ varying needs and life stages was a key part of the project. There are dedicated spaces for religious observance, a family room with activities for children and a room for pumping and breastfeeding. “There’s a new sense of warmth and communality and a degree of informality,” says Taylor. “After the pandemic, it became clear that people weren’t necessarily eager to get back to the traditional ways of an office. There’s been a shift in the culture. People are starting to recognize that how formally one is dressed or how austere their office looks does not necessarily equate to higher-quality work. We wanted to embrace that.”

Earth tones, light-oak finishes, pops of greenery and, of course, natural light make the office feel spacious and inviting. Some of the best views—including a verdant northeast vista—were strategically allocated to shared spaces instead of being reserved for high-ranking executives. But the democratization of light and space wasn’t the only pandemic-inspired change. The firm’s new hybrid- work model—employees are in the office a few days a week—is part of the design, which includes robustly equipped rooms for virtual hearings and software that lets employees securely connect to their workspaces.

Compared to the 12 months of hybrid work before moving into Bay Adelaide, there has been a definite uptick in attendance. Taylor says that feedback has been near-universally positive. One partner wasn’t happy with his reduced office size but became a convert within the first week. After spending time in the space, he saw the benefit of the light-friendly environment that had been created.

The move increased the office’s size by 25 per cent and gave workers inspiring new spaces in which to gather and collaborate. But that’s not all—the new design is emblematic of a broader cultural and operational shift at Cassels that champions a key idea: An office should not only accommodate the technical aspects of work but also foster an environment where employees feel valued, supported and connected.

Here’s a look inside Cassels’s new office space:

The post Workspace of the Month: Inside Cassels’s Bright New Office Space appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

Q: Is there a way to budget that allows me to save while also enjoying my summer?

Spring is here, which means spring cleaning. Between closets crowded with winter coats, an overflowing junk drawer and the storage solution you thought would make everything “simpler,” it’s easy to overlook a key item on your spring-cleaning checklist: your budget.

It may not be the most pressing item on your to-do list, but budgeting is a fundamental part of maintaining your financial wellbeing and building long-term wealth. It’s also the most effective way to ensure you’re bringing in more money than you’re spending, making it harder to slip into debt and easier to progress toward your goals. Unfortunately, the Financial Consumer Agency of Canada found only half of us budget.

The 50/30/20 approach can be one of the best, least-complicated ways to spring-clean a budget, and it works for budgeters at all stages in life. With this strategy, 50 per cent of your income is dedicated to must-haves like housing, food and bills. If half of your take-home pay isn’t enough to cover these items (a position that many Canadians unfortunately face), you’ll need to find ways to cut back on these expenses—if it’s an option, you could consider moving to a less-expensive neighbourhood or selling your car and using public transit—or adjust how much money goes toward these next two categories.

Related: Quiet Luxury is Out. Loud Budgeting is In.

Thirty per cent of your income goes toward “wants,” like travel, dining out or experiences. Being able to splurge a little helps your budget feel sustainable rather than restrictive.

Finally, 20 per cent of your income is reserved for financial goals. This includes paying down debt, building an emergency fund and investing for retirement— ideally in that order.

Once you have your plan set up, make sure you stick to it. Which is a lot easier said than done. Here are a few tips to help.

Automate what you can: Unlike cleaning, budgeting doesn’t have to take up your time. Auto-transfers can be a great tool because they allow you to auto allocate your paycheque to pay down debt and build your savings.

Saving is a luxury: Due to inflation, rate hikes and rising housing costs, 44 per cent of Canadians weren’t able to save from 2022 to 2023. If saving feels too ambitious right now, focus on what’s realistic. Saving any percentage of your paycheque will help build the habit of saving and can still make a difference.

Keep your eyes on the prize: While a budget may feel restrictive, it can also protect you from “lifestyle creep.” (Think: putting the extra money from a promotion toward going out to fancy dinners instead of increasing your savings.) And remember: It’s important to revisit your budget throughout the year. As your income, goals and circumstances change, your budget will need to change as well.

Set aside some time this spring to take stock and refresh your finances, so you can enjoy summer and hit your savings goals.

The post Make It Make Sense: How Can I Enjoy Summer While Keeping to My Budget? appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

Brodflour

Located in Toronto’s Liberty Village, Brodflour mill and bakery provides the butter tarts used in Shake Shack Canada’s I Heart Butter Tart Concrete, which involves blending butter tarts into their vanilla frozen custard with a bit of flaky salt.

ChocoSol Traders

Toronto chocolate shop ChocoSol Traders provides chocolate chunks and cocoa nibs for two of Shake Shack Canada’s desserts: The Shack Attack Concrete and and the Canadian-exclusive More S’mores Concrete. The former is made up chocolate frozen custard blended with brownies, fudge sauce, chocolate chunks and cocoa nibs, while the latter is blends both chocolate and vanilla frozen custard with toasted marshmallow sauce, fudge sauce, graham crumb and chopped chocolate pieces topped with a graham cracker dipper.

Bellwoods Brewery

While Shake Shack’s ShackMeister Ale is available at its U.S. restaurants, Toronto-based Bellwoods Brewery got to make a Canadian version that’s exclusive to the new location. Complete with a custom can done in Bellwoods’s signature style, the hoppy beer contains bright notes of citrus, while retaining the slight bitterness of its American counterpart, which is brewed by Brooklyn Brewery.

Rosewood Winery

Shake Shake Canada also offers two canned wines—one red and one white—which are both made by Rosewood Wine in Niagara using Ontario grapes. The Shack Red is a blend of Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc and the Shack White is a dry Riesling.

Pluck Tea

Toronto-based Pluck Tea provides the iced tea for Shake Shack Canada, which is brewed fresh daily and used in their Fifty/Fifty drink made with iced tea and lemonade.

The post The 5 Canadian Companies Partnering With the New Shake Shack in Toronto appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

Q: I’m currently dealing with a manager who likes to make snide remarks and “jokes” about me being single, like how I must have “plenty of time to work late” since I don’t have children. I’ve had a one-to-one with him to explain how uncomfortable these comments make me feel, but that has not helped—they still continue. I’ve also talked to his skip-level manager and HR all without any action being taken. I’m not in a position to leave this role at the moment, is there anything more I can do or should I suck it up and keep quiet?

Let’s be clear—any comments that anyone at work makes about your family life or relationship status are unequivocally inappropriate. Your feelings of discomfort are valid and, frankly, you should not have been put in this position in the first place. In some places, including all of Canada, inquiring about family status is not only inappropriate but illegal, especially in the context of job interviews.

In cases like yours, I usually advise an open and honest conversation with your boss and/or human resources. At any company that values the psychological safety of its employees, this would typically put a stop to the commentary. In your case, all three parties you addressed this with haven’t taken actionable next steps to ensure you are being treated fairly at work. There are three routes you can take from here:

The first is: You put into writing your concerns to human resources. In the email ensure you document the specific statements being made, when they were made and your responses to them. It is important you also call out the specific time and place you met with each party to discuss your concerns and what their responses were, along with the crucial detail that nothing has changed. In this note, I would advise asking for a response that outlines their specific next steps and what they will do to mitigate the situation.

Putting things in writing opens up additional risk for employers who ignore your claims—now there is a formal paper trail that can be used should they be investigated. Usually investigations are conducted by your human resources business partners as a core mandate of their role is to ensure employee psychological safety. In most organizations this investigation will likely include reviewing written communications and speaking directly to those involved with the goal of a resolution that protects employee wellness. Keeping time-stamped documentation of events is critical to building a case. This may be the additional push needed to ensure HR protects you appropriately.

Although putting things into writing may light a fire under your employer; do you want to work at a company that needs that big of a push to respect you? You have had to commit so much additional energy, time and thought into navigating this situation, that frankly your HR team should have done that for you. As you continue to work through the situation by putting it in writing, this is likely a good time to start looking for a new role.

Related: How Can I Tell When It’s Time to Quit My Job?

The third option would be to consult an employment lawyer. Although more information would need to be collected to determine if you have a strong case, there is a possibility that what you are experiencing is harassment, and that is best navigated by an expert. Cases like these sometimes result in filing claims against your employer and/or support in receiving an exit package.

Most importantly, don’t blame yourself for the position you are in. Your employer has a duty to treat you with respect and dignity, and that includes respecting your personal life and your boundaries.

The post Ask a Recruiter: How Do I Get My HR Department to Take My Problem Seriously? appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

Their innovative organic, gluten-free and kosher beers made from quinoa are capturing the attention of beer enthusiasts and health-conscious consumers alike. 

The inspiration behind Miski Brewing 

Ricardo and Mariella envisioned a beer that was not only flavourful but also catered to those with dietary restrictions. 

“Being Peruvian, this ancient grain was a staple in my home growing up,” says Ricardo Irivarren. “Recognizing a void in the gluten-free beer market sparked the inspiration and drive to create the first-ever certified 100 per cent gluten-free beer, crafted from the nutritious quinoa grain.”

However, creating a gluten-free beer from quinoa, a grain not traditionally used for brewing, presented a significant challenge. The founders had no prior brewing experience and also knew they needed help to launch and scale their business. Thanks to BMO’s tailored business banking solutions, the duo gained the financial security and confidence they needed to pursue their dream.

“BMO was a steadfast believer in our project from its inception,” Irivarren says. “Kevin Cao, our dedicated account manager, stood by us through both the highs and lows, providing unwavering support as our project progressed. Without BMO’s belief and support, our vision of creating a 100 per cent quinoa-based beer would have remained merely a dream, confined to my thoughts and bucket list.”

The power of collaboration

To spring their plan into action, the founders first partnered with the experts at Niagara College Food and Beverage Innovation Centre. Through a collaborative effort, they tackled the technical challenges of brewing with quinoa, along with overcoming production hurdles and experimenting with prototypes, all during a global pandemic. Their dedication and perseverance paid off in the end, as they successfully developed a unique and flavourful gluten-free beer.

Irivarren’s progress to market was marked with meaningful milestones: achieving the industry-first feat of extracting alcohol from quinoa, scaling up production, and acquiring the necessary certifications for gluten-free, vegan, organic, kosher, and low-carb labels. Finally, securing retail distribution with LCBO marked a significant step, bringing their innovative brews to a wider audience in Ontario. This expansion has continued, and Miski Brewing’s beers are now available in additional provinces and soon to be in select US markets.

Leveraging effective outreach for growth 

Social media has proven to be a powerful tool for Miski Brewing. They leveraged the power of word-of-mouth marketing via outreach to specific communities such as celiac, low-carb, and health-conscious consumers. The founders also ran successful PR and marketing campaigns through billboards, TV segments and magazine articles. Current efforts are more centered on digital ads and industry events.  

“Social media wields immense power, especially for small companies navigating budget constraints,” says Irivarren. “By tapping into overlooked niches, we’ve witnessed firsthand the incredible reach. It’s truly remarkable to see how our ‘guilt-free’ alternative has resonated within these communities, offering a renewed opportunity to savour the social ritual of enjoying a great beer without hesitation.” 

Commitment to sustainability

Sustainability and environmental consciousness are also woven into the fabric of Miski Brewing. Committed to honouring Peruvian traditions and preserving the land, they have adopted sustainable practices and a zero-waste approach. Their vision extends beyond just brewing beer; they aim to contribute to the global appreciation of Peru’s superfoods.

“I’m heartened by the recent acknowledgment of Peru’s vast potential in the international agriculture industry,” says Irivarren. “It’s gratifying to see global customers appreciating the agricultural offerings and ancestral traditions embedded within them. Our dedication to preserving and promoting these traditions is unwavering.”

From idea to reality 

Miski Brewing’s journey from a passionate dream to a groundbreaking reality is a testament to the power of innovation and collaboration. By creating the world’s first 100 per cent quinoa-based, gluten-free beer, Ricardo and Mariella Irivarren not only filled a market niche but also introduced a new level of inclusivity and sustainability to the craft beer industry. With the support of dedicated partners like BMO and the innovative spirit of the Niagara College Food and Beverage Innovation Centre, these founders transformed an ambitious vision into reality.

For more information about tailored business banking solutions, click here.

The post They Quit Their Jobs to Make Beer: Miski Brewing’s Gluten-Free Beer Innovation appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

Here, Ruth Goudie, president of PR agency 1Milk2Sugars, and Joe O’Connor, CEO of Work Time Reduction, weigh in on what wellness actually looks like in the modern workplace.

JOE O’CONNOR: Wellness benefits offered at work are somewhat akin to Nero fiddling while Rome goes up in flames. We have a major burnout epidemic in modern workplaces, and the solutions need to be systemic and structural, addressing root causes rather than ticking boxes. Mindfulness workshops and meditation apps are nice to have, but on their own—without fundamentals in place that ensure workers are competitively paid, well rested and engaged—they’re toothless.

RUTH GOUDIE: While we do offer free access to a meditation app at our agency, employees can see these types of wellness offerings as inauthentic if the core organizational structure is not conducive to mental well-being. What matters are good working conditions, feeling integrated with an organization’s wider values and being seen as a priority by the team. Ultimately, if your employees are overworked or otherwise not treated fairly, no wellness program is going to work.

Related: Feeling Stressed? Here’s How to Take a Mental Health Leave From Work

J.O.: We need to get past the idea of wellness as a fluffy, ancillary issue in corporations. Burnout is ultimately a productivity issue. And to prevent it, we need to focus on performance reviews, schedules, working hours, resource management and pay. I’m a major proponent of a four-day work week; extensive research shows that it increases productivity. It’s about the fundamentals, not what you layer on top.

R.G.: Our agency shifted to a four-day work week almost a year ago, and we have seen a dramatic improvement in staff retention. We’ve had employees say that the option to sign off on Fridays allows them to take care of errands, appointments and chores, and that way they can recharge on weekends. We also implemented a resource-allocation tool to make sure we’re managing people’s workload fairly. That’s the core of wellness—making sure the workload is manageable. It goes hand in hand with offering competitive wages and health benefits, of course.

J.O.: We live in a digital-first, always-on culture, and that can be mentally draining. If you don’t make structural changes so that people can actually switch off, it’s difficult to resolve stress and burnout with interventions like mindfulness. Reducing work hours should be paired with other elements of job redesign, such as streamlining processes with technology and removing interruptions from work so people aren’t constantly task-switching. Then you really improve people’s ability to manage their responsibilities, inside and outside of work.

R.G.: We have three generations on staff—Gen X, Millennials and Gen Z. Their needs, expectations and wellness goals can be extremely different. While all put a premium on solid medical benefits, more mature demographics tend to value pensions and access to financial-planning resources, while Gen Z and younger Millennials tend to prioritize mental-health benefits like telehealth access and yoga classes. It’s more important than ever to involve your employees in developing what your wellness program looks like. Get regular feedback. Or, if you’re a larger organization, create a task force with diverse representation. Just make sure you’re adequately supporting that task force—wellness shouldn’t become an unmanageable to-do on their list of responsibilities.

The post Burnout Is on the Rise. Are Corporate Wellness Programs Enough? appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

That spring, I decided to take up a new hobby: making my own healthy ice pops. I’d found that grocery stores lacked snack options that were low in sugar and additives, so I gave it a go. I got access to a tiny commercial space near my home in Toronto that belonged to a family member and got to work. For my first batch, I mixed fresh mango, water, lemon juice and organic cane sugar into a base that I then froze to make 50 ice pops. I’m a South Asian Canadian, so fresh fruit was a staple snack at home growing up—we always had some in the fridge.

The ice pops turned out impressively tasty, so I decided to try selling them at a local farmers’ market. Seeing people enjoy the treats brought me so much joy that I bought more equipment on Kijiji, started lugging cooler boxes filled with my ice pops to more farmers’ markets and incorporated under the name Happy Pops.

By the fall, despite having no entrepreneurial experience, I’d put my studies on hold and joined an incubator program at the University of Toronto called Impact Centre. I went on to land catering contracts with clients like Google, Scotiabank and Aeroplan. I then launched at local food stores, like Summerhill Market in Toronto.

In 2018, searching for new ways to grow, I auditioned for Dragons’ Den on a whim. I landed a spot on the show and received an offer from Arlene Dickinson for $150,000 for 30 per cent of the company. I took the deal on-air but later decided not to proceed because I was not ready to give away such a big chunk of the business. Still, the show was a huge moment for me. Until then, I’d hesitated to tell people that I had paused my studies to become a food entrepreneur, because it sounded like such a random pivot. Getting Happy Pops on TV was an inflection point for the business.

Related: How to Pitch Your Start-up to Investors

The exposure helped me scale. I invested the money I made into renting a larger commercial space with more freezer capacity, hiring a manufacturing team and an accountant, outsourcing marketing and design and developing new flavours, like Passion Fruit, Guava, Matcha, Lychee Lemonade, Orange N’ Cream and Lemon Mint. Meanwhile, I was sending pitches to Canada’s largest grocery stores. In 2019, Sobeys started stocking Happy Pops in its stores in Ontario, and eventually across the country; Metro followed suit in 2020 with its stores in Ontario and Quebec. We began shipping coast to coast in cooler boxes with dry ice. The ability to ship across Canada and fulfill orders from our new e-commerce store helped keep us alive during the pandemic.

Seven years into this business, some parts of it have not changed: I’m still Happy Pops’ sole owner, our base recipes remain the same and we’re still selling at farmers’ markets on weekends. On the other hand, there are some things that I never could have predicted: We had a partnership with Aeroplan and created a custom flavour for Sesame Street. We’re also currently developing limited-edition ice pops for Mattel, which will launch later this year. We produce more than one million ice pops annually, and they’re sold in 1,500 grocery stores across Canada as well as at attractions like Canada’s Wonderland and Ripley’s Aquarium.

And yet our team remains lean—we just hired our first administrative assistant. Along with making the executive decisions, I still run our social media and develop and taste-test flavours. It’s busy, but I have become better at finding a work-life balance by carving out time in my day to ride my bicycle, play golf or be with family and friends. Hearing that people love my ice pops and knowing that kids have access to a high-quality snack that I didn’t have while growing up makes it all worthwhile.

The post How Leila Keshavjee Turned a Healthy-snack Craving Into an Ice Pop Empire appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

With global golf-tourism projected to grow to a market value of nearly US$6 billion in the next two years, savvy opportunists are opening golf resorts to meet the demand. But they aren’t just your traditional links: The new hot spots go big on luxe amenities, chic accommodations and unique après-golf experiences. Here are five notable properties at home and across the globe to help you tee off your summer travel plans.

Black Bear Ridge

Childhood friends Alex Sharpe and Cale Fair purchased Black Bear Ridge in Belleville, Ont., in 2021 and spent the next two years transforming it into a hip all-season resort to attract Millennial golfers.

In addition to two courses and a driving range, the property has a unique “bocce golf” course, which combines elements of mini-putt and bocce ball. Black Bear Ridge also offers activities like yoga and fishing, and it’s situated on 365 hectares with trails for snowshoeing, biking and hiking.

“Black Bear Ridge is not your dad’s golf course,” says Sharpe. Next up as part of the $1.54 billion redevelopment: Fair and Sharpe plan to add a spa, outdoor event spaces and residential housing. blackbearridge.ca

Terras da Comporta

Located an hour south of Lisbon on the Alentejo coast, this golf destination in Carvalhal, Portugal, features bioclimatic architecture and uses green energy, making it a distinctly eco-conscious destination. “We prove that luxury and sustainability are compatible,” says golf director Rodrigo Ulrich.

Terras da Comporta’s award-winning Dunas Golf Course opened in October, and a second 18-hole course is in the works to open this year. Development plans also include everything from a racquet club to a co-working space to equestrian facilities. comporta.com

Cabot Saint Lucia

“When I first saw the site, I knew it was truly spectacular,” says Ben Cowan-Dewar, CEO and co-founder of The Cabot Collection, developers and operators of five luxury golf resorts. Cabot Saint Lucia, perched on the northern tip of the Caribbean island, started welcoming guests in December and is a jewel in the crown for the Toronto-based company, which has properties in Canada, the U.S. and the U.K.

In addition to its coastal links, the resort offers tennis, pickleball and basketball and will soon add a Scandi-inspired hydro-circuit spa. Its three-storey clubhouse hosts a restaurant focusing on local cuisines, which rounds out the more casual dining options: a course-side wood-fired-pizza food truck and toes-in-sand beach dining. cabotsaintlucia.com

Inness

This resort in Accord, N.Y., was named after American landscape painter George Inness and designed as a pastoral escape for weary city dwellers.

Opened in 2021, the 91-hectare property’s accommodations include 28 cabins and a 12-room farmhouse. Its restaurant, which has panoramic views of the Hudson Valley, serves seasonal dishes inspired by the on-site organic farm. It also has tennis courts, two saltwater pools and an archery range. And in June, it will add a spa and gym.

Inness’s nine-hole golf course is nestled in a bucolic valley between the Catskill and Shawangunk mountain ranges. The experience here is purposefully unpretentious: Walking the course is encouraged, and keeping score and proper golf attire are optional. inness.co

Black Desert Resort

Black Desert Resort, in Ivins, Utah, cut the ribbon on its 19-hole championship course last spring. The 255-hectare resort, set at the convergence of three major ecosystems—the Mojave Desert, the Great Basin and the Colorado Plateau—is punctuated by red-rock cliffs and black lava fields.

This fall, a sprawling entertainment complex will open in time for the Black Desert Championship PGA tournament. Shopping, a spa, live-music venues, a water park and more than 20 restaurants are a handful of the many amenities in the works. blackdesertresort.com

The post These Next-Gen Golf Resorts Have More Than Just Luxurious Links appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

Over the past few years, many fast-food companies have tried to crack the cup problem. In 2021, some Toronto-area Burger King and Tim Hortons restaurants tested out reusable cups through TerraCycle’s Loop pilot program, which collects, cleans and redistributes reusable packaging. But systems like these require customers to put in effort: pay a deposit, Scan a QR code, download an app and return items to a specific collection spot. Sustainability advisers say any friction may deter customers from committing.

A&W Canada took a different approach. “We came up with the simplest option to get people to start changing their behaviour,” says Angela Griffiths, strategy manager and vice-president of food safety, animal welfare and environment at A&W Canada. In the burger chain’s latest eco-friendly effort, it zeroed in on diverting cups from landfills with the introduction of its One Cup program: Pay $3 for a reusable cup and exchange it for a clean one on your next visit—no fussy rules or inconvenient caveats.

The challenge was designing a reusable cup that people would actually use. The brand first tested 650-mL cups, but customers said they were too big. Meanwhile, staff suggested the cups should fit underneath all the machines and include markings to show different serving sizes.

A&W Canada had initially tried to tackle the issue in 2022 with its Zero Cup, a fully compostable and recyclable cup without a lid or plastic liner. But customers didn’t like the “papery” taste, so the program wasn’t expanded.

After 18 months of ideation, sourcing and testing, the chain created a new reusable 590-mL cup, and in October 2023, A&W Canada launched its One Cup program. The cup is made of recyclable polypropylene and can hold any drink on the menu—from a hot coffee to a root-beer cream freeze. Upon exchange, the cups are cleaned in a high-temperature sanitizing dishwasher alongside A&W’s iconic glass root-beer mugs and then put back into circulation.

So far, the program has diverted 200,000 cups from landfills, and the company aims to hit the one-million mark this year. To encourage guests to switch up their habits, A&W Canada set up a booth near a Toronto university campus and had the “A&W Guy” from its ads hand out free One Cups to students, which resulted in a viral TikTok with one million views. To get staff to recommend the One Cup to customers, the brand held an official contest: Stores that sold the most cups were rewarded with gift cards and pizza parties.

Related: 10 Smart Eco-Friendly Swaps for Items You Use Every Day

For other restaurants aiming to promote a change in consumer habits, Griffiths suggests investing time in testing to make a product people actually want to use. “Think about the design, the feel and the look,” she says. “It has to be something that’s appealing to your target audience.”

The post How to Influence Consumer Behaviour appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

Following a trend noted at the world’s top corporations, many of the women CEOs at these mid-market firms left of their own accord. The reasons cited point to an unsettling truth: Not only is the climb to the top an against-the-odds feat but once women arrive there, they often face a psychologically unsafe environment that makes performing in their roles untenable.

In Canada, women make up 10 per cent of executive officer jobs, marking a record high. But less than two per cent of those women are BIPOC. Compared to the global trend, it is at least moving in the right direction here. While we have such a long way to go, the road map is clear. Grant Thornton’s report found that we can pave the way to parity by focusing on three key factors that impact women’s ability to thrive in leadership positions: a commitment from those in the C-suite to sponsor women for growth opportunities; a clear and measurable DEI strategy; and, crucially, greater flexibility—businesses with hybrid or flexible work models statistically have more women in senior roles.

We spoke to six Canadian CEOs who are the first women to hold the top position in their companies’ history. A common theme in their stories is their dedication to enacting change within their organizations—and industries at large—to ensure that more women are promoted to senior positions. Herein lies the
conundrum but also the solution: We need more women at the top in order to promote more women to the top.

Justine Hendricks

Farm Credit Canada

Title: President and CEO

Years in Job: 1.5

Location: Ottawa

I’m a problem-solver at heart. I started my career in the banking sector, and I fell in love with the process of helping customers. I began to grasp the profound impact I could have during their pivotal life moments by offering knowledge and guidance.

For most of my career, I’ve been a single mother. I have three daughters: an 18-year-old and 14-year-old twins. Balancing the demands of work and motherhood hasn’t always been easy, but I’ve learned that the quality of the time you spend with your family is what matters most.

You know the saying “It takes a village to raise a child?” I’m probably the poster child for that. Friends and family have played and continue to play a very important role in our lives. I’ve also made it a priority to involve my girls not only in my work but also in my interests outside of work. I hope that inspires them too.

I joined Farm Credit Canada in January 2023. I see endless opportunities for growth and change within the agriculture and food industry. I’m happy, at the end of the day, if I’ve solved a problem. It doesn’t have to be the biggest problem, but if I help unblock something or push us closer to a solution, that fuels me each and every day. I believe we have the potential to address the world’s most pressing problems, from world hunger to climate challenges.

Women have always been an integral part of farming in Canada, and it’s exciting to see more women move into leadership roles and take seats at the board level. We are now sitting where decisions are being made. I am confident that we will continue to see women rise to the top ranks of agriculture and food in Canada, because there is a need for our skills, passion and fresh ideas.

It is important to have examples and role models for other women to look to; that will make a difference. FCC has dedicated events and resources to help women at any level achieve their entrepreneurship and leadership goals.

I think sometimes when women get an adverse reaction, they respond by pushing themselves to do 125 per cent. But you’ve got to stop and reflect: What’s important is to be comfortable with who you are, to be true to who you are and to do things with integrity. You don’t always have to surpass others just because you think that that’s the only way you will ever be seen as an equal.

As a woman leader and visible minority, I’ve faced certain biases and obstacles over my career. I’m not necessarily what someone pictures when they see the name Justine Hendricks. There’s an element of surprise for some. I can tell from people’s reactions when I enter a room that what they see is not
necessarily what they expected. And you can just see how they have to internally adjust.

During my first 12 months as CEO of FCC, I met over 500 individuals and stakeholders and farmers and producers, and, looking back, I can honestly say I was welcomed with open arms by this industry.

I feel like I belong here. I invested in reaching out and connecting with everything that I had, and with authenticity, and the industry has accepted and embraced me in return. That’s an environment where I know I can thrive.

Meghan Roach

Roots

Title: President and CEO

Years in Job: 4.5

Location: Toronto

My family was really influential in shaping my career path. I have two sisters and a brother. My parents always told my sisters and me that we could do anything as women, and that is something that has stayed with me all my life.

I became a passionate investor early on, thanks to my grandfather. He gave me my first stock when I was 12 and continued buying me stocks for the rest of his life until he passed away in 2021. I knew I wanted to do something related to investments, so I started my career in private equity. After doing my MBA at the University of Oxford, I joined Searchlight Capital Partners in London, U.K. Then I had my first child and came back to Canada to work at the fund’s Toronto office.

Searchlight acquired Roots in 2015, and in 2019 I jumped in as the company’s interim CFO. I had only been in the role for a couple of months when the board decided to search for a new CEO. They told me I should think about taking the job.

At that time, I hadn’t really considered moving to the operations side. When I was at university, there weren’t a lot of female CEOs that I knew about. So I didn’t necessarily think about that pathway as something that was possible for me. But working closely with the Roots team as interim CFO, I realized that I loved getting up every day and going to the office to think about the next thing we could do or the next opportunity we could get involved with.

One of the first things I wanted to do as CEO was re-establish Roots’ premium-brand status, a mission that included hiring a chief product officer and creative director. We partnered with new collaborators and saw a massive increase in our gross margins. Later on, we made the shift to manufacturing 85 per cent of our products with sustainable materials and launched one of the first gender-free product categories with extended sizing in Canada.

At Roots, we try to promote women into leadership roles. Every time you put one woman forward, that moves women as a group forward. It’s important for us to think about how we support each other. I try to mentor and help women who are looking at similar paths—I want them to be able to see themselves in these roles in the future because they have examples that have come before them.

It’s important for women in leadership positions to talk more openly about the challenges we face. I’m a mother to two little kids, I’m a CEO and my husband works full-time. It’s not easy to balance all these things.

It’s a barrier to women to think we need to be “perfect enough” to take on a big role. The reality is that none of us are perfect. We have to show that it’s okay not to be and it’s okay to find things difficult. We can work on weaknesses and continue to learn and grow.

Kelly Schmitt

Benevity

Title: CEO

Years in Job: 3.5

Location: Calgary

I spent my early career in corporate finance and the oil and gas industry. Coming up, I was typically the only woman in the room at almost every meeting and encounter. Then, in 2007, I joined Smart Technologies, a learning-tools company, as treasurer. It had a 10-person executive team and five were women, including the CEO and the CFO, which is one of the reasons I felt compelled to make the move from the energy sector to tech.

After helping take Smart public in 2010, I became the CFO at Solium Capital, now Shareworks by Morgan Stanley. Eight years later, I was approached by Benevity’s founder and CEO, Bryan de Lottinville, when the company was looking to uplevel its CFO.

Soon after, Bryan told me he was looking for his successor. My first reaction was, “Don’t look here, man. That is not me.” I never wanted to be the person in front of clients doing sales. I loved being the number two.

I was holding myself back. I think men typically look at job qualifications, and if they meet two of the 10, they’ll be like, “I’m good to go.” And I think women tend to find a lot of reasons why they’re not qualified. Meanwhile, Smart Technologies and Solium Capital had both hit unicorn status while I was there.

Neither of the CEOs we hired externally for Benevity lasted long. Meanwhile, I had learned a lot more about the role—that the CEO job is about people and culture. And I cared so much about Benevity’s mission and the people who work there. So that’s what ultimately made me decide to take the plunge—I thought, “I could do this, and do it better.”

I actually think my career claim to fame, though, is that I birthed both of my kids as a CFO and took eight months of maternity leave with each of them. The world didn’t end, and the companies didn’t go out of business.

I think the biggest thing that’s holding women back from leadership roles is that it’s still the woman who bears the majority of the responsibility for raising children. I look at companies that have mandated that people come back to the office five days a week, and it hurts the careers of people who are the primary caregivers, which is still most often women. At Benevity, we’re flexible in the way we work and provide a progressive parental-leave program for both parents. Recently, I’ve also been reading about the impact menopause has on women in the workplace. It’s a huge thing; you can’t sleep and you’re having all these issues, and it’s something we never talk about at work.

We also need more sponsorship—not just mentorship—for women. That means kicking down doors and actively advocating for women’s careers throughout the company. We have to do the hard work to develop people, promote them and support them so they succeed.

In my time as CEO, I’ve promoted three women to the C-suite from within the company. The average representation of women at a tech company is 28 per cent, but at Benevity it’s 55 per cent, and two-thirds of our executive team are women.

We need to have these types of conversations—and I’ve been using my platform to try to make sure we have them.

An Verhulst-Santos

L’Oréal Canada

Title: President and CEO

Years in Job: 3

Location: Montreal

My very first job was at L’Oréal. I started there as a product manager on Kérastase, a brand within our professional-product division, 33 years ago in Belgium, where I was born.

I became the first woman CEO of L’Oréal Canada in June 2021. One of the first things I did in the role was create the position of chief diversity, equity and inclusion officer, currently held by Marie-Evelyne François. The more diverse a team is, the more creative and ambitious they are—and that leads to greater and more profound results for the whole company.

Historically, the cosmetics industry has been responsible for certain beauty standards that fail to accurately represent the global population. We’re trying to change that. Today, all of the brands within the L’Oréal group strive to represent a wide range of ethnicities, ages and gender identities in their campaigns and offer products for different skin tones, hair types and beauty preferences.

But it’s important to not stop there. By actively participating in ongoing discussions and supporting new initiatives that promote inclusivity, we improve the industry as whole. It’s important for me to be a part of that evolution.

I often get asked, “What advice would you give other women in business?” And I’m sometimes disheartened to see how many ambitious women lack confidence to go after what they want—and deserve. Since arriving here, I’ve found Canada to be a vibrant and diverse market, and I consider myself lucky to be part of a team that celebrates inclusion and creativity. But statistics show that isn’t the reality for most. So the advice I would like to give is: Don’t put up additional barriers. Have faith in your strengths and speak up. You need to be true to yourself, because if you aren’t, it will be hard to influence others to trust you. People want to invest in someone who fully believes in what she does.

Related: How Do I Push Past My Imposter Syndrome and Get the Job Done?

Having work-life balance as a leader is also key, and I try to lead by example. For me, it isn’t just about managing time; it’s about nurturing fulfillment and a sense of purpose both in and outside of work. It’s about making myself available for what matters most. To help make this possible for our team, we recently doubled mental-health coverage and introduced unlimited sick and personal days so employees can better balance their responsibilities and accommodate unforeseen events in a way that works for them and the business.

We want everyone to feel supported at work and at home. As a mother of two teenagers, I know that the time I spend with my kids is so important. And discovering the world through their eyes is extremely enriching—they open my mind and encourage me to ask questions, and that makes me a better leader.

Kim Brooks

Dalhousie University

Title: President and Vice-chancellor

Years in Job: 1

Location: Halifax

Coming up in my career in the ’90s, I experienced moments of exclusion that other women and gay people can relate to. I’ve been underestimated. I’ve had men repeat my ideas in meetings and take credit. And I’ve felt like I’ve had to conform to a conventional way of dressing. In the past, I expended a lot of energy on making other people feel comfortable, even to the extreme of not mentioning my partner in a work setting. Today, I feel confident showing up how I want and saying what I want.

But those challenges are still pervasive and continue to be a deterrent for many women with ambitions of making it into the C-suite. When I think about a diverse workforce, I think of how that adds to the richness of decision-making at an organization, and I’m consistently a cheerleader for having more women, queer people and racialized people come on board at Dalhousie.

I think it’s important that students see people who may have a similar life path to them assume leadership positions. It’s affirming when a woman—especially a gay woman—becomes president of a university. It lets them know that this is a doable accomplishment.

As the first female and openly queer president of Dalhousie, I bring a different background to the role as well as a fresh set of eyes to tackle various institutional challenges persistent in the university sector. I’ve been explicit in leading a strategy around mentoring students from a range of backgrounds. We want to leverage their talents to give them the support they need, recognizing that it isn’t just about elevating a woman to a leadership position and hoping for the best. We need intentionally inclusive workplaces for the next generation.

The conversation in the boardroom gets more interesting when you have different voices. If it’s the same four or five people with similar backgrounds making decisions for the next 20 years, nothing will change. Dalhousie’s leadership team should reflect a diverse range of communities—including rural Nova Scotians and those from low-income families.

We’re aware of the progress we’ve made in certain departments, like how more than half of the students in the law school are women. But we still have gaps, such as how few Black students enrol in the medical school. We’re working to change that through outreach to students, assisting them with their applications and ensuring that the application process isn’t biased.

And once marginalized students come into those programs, we want to ensure that their time with us is successful. We’ve instilled solid mentorship programs and created cohort circles so they can see themselves reflected in the student body.

I love this job because the challenges are exciting to me. And I’m passionate about driving the right change.

Jennifer Publicover

RBC Insurance

Title: Executive VP and CEO

Years in Job: 1.5

Location: Toronto

My dad was an investment adviser. I remember going into his office as a kid, and they didn’t have computers; they had a ticker machine on the floor. He introduced me to the world of markets, and I bought my first stock when I was five or six years old. And guess what stock it was? RBC.

I spent most of my career at Morgan Stanley in various roles. Sometimes when you grow up within an organization, it can be hard to convince those around you that you’ve evolved and are ready for further advancement. When I was up for managing director, I didn’t get the job, and the feedback I received wasn’t that I’d done the wrong thing or that I’d been lazy; it was that I wasn’t doing enough of what the guys were doing, like networking and promoting themselves. Meanwhile, I had my head down and was always working while also trying to balance the needs of my young family. I remember being devastated by that feedback.

After leaving Morgan Stanley, I spent three years running strategy and products for wealth management at RBC. To be honest, I wasn’t necessarily looking to be the CEO. But our last board chair, Kathleen Taylor, was very passionate about finding opportunities for women.

The first time I presented to the board of RBC, people around the table were sending me notes that said “You’ve got this; you’re gonna do a great job.” I didn’t experience that kind of support when I worked in the U.S. or in Europe, where there seemed to be deep-rooted views of women.

I’ve never had the sense that I shouldn’t be here. Still, for a long time in my career, I wasn’t great at saying what I wanted. Was I getting paid right? Was I getting the right assignments? But I’ve gotten more deliberate in advocating for myself, and my confidence in terms of what I bring to the table has increased.

I wish we had more women running companies in Canada. It’s good for business. Women tend to solicit a very broad set of stakeholders for feedback, which typically leads to more optimal decisions being made with more complete information. Women are also very comfortable making tough decisions, particularly when the interests of the collective are at stake.

I’m a big believer in setting bold goals. When I became CEO, I and my senior leadership team recognized that to grow our business and win in the future, we would need a much more ambitious strategy. That really energized and excited the team. We’re in an environment where change is happening so fast, and incrementalism is just not going to work. Setting bold goals—and then giving people the belief that they can achieve them—is the most important thing you can do as a leader.

The post What Does It Mean to Be the First Woman in the C-Suite? appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

But the workshops weren’t as inspiring as they’d hoped they would be. The presentations lacked the emotional hook needed to spark real, lasting change, leaving the centre feeling like it was taking baby steps toward meaningful inclusion. Participants also struggled with the facilitators’ attitudes. “Last year’s DEI training was delivered in a really judgmental way,” says Tammy Fox, BPAC’s executive director. Rather than engaging with staff’s experiences and questions, the facilitators focused on BPAC’s mistakes. “You can’t help but get your armour up, and then you’re not listening actively—your mind is busy defending yourself rather than taking in the message.”

Looking for a solution, Fox turned to Layne, a self-described “philanthro-tainer” who has helped raise $40 million in the past 14 years as a charity auctioneer. Back in 2020, Fox saw Layne speak on a panel at a women’s empowerment conference and was impressed by their ability to discuss serious subject matters in an engaging and entertaining way.

In January, Layne, who is non-binary and uses a mononym, launched Impact Workshop, a diversity, equity, inclusion and belonging, or DEIB, program that facilitates dialogue around gender barriers in the workplace. For Fox, Layne’s inviting presentation style seemed like the perfect approach to make BPAC’s DEIB training finally stick.

“Belonging” has been a staple part of DEI workshops since 2020, but what sets Layne’s program apart is their ability to create a space where colleagues can be vulnerable—share their pain, explore their differences, make mistakes and learn from one another through a combination of role play, group discussion and video content. The workshop is broken down into three modules: understanding concepts and definitions, learning inclusive behaviour and practising active allyship. Unlike previous workshops, Fox says, BPAC’s experience with Layne was a dialogue rather than a scolding.

Related: How to Navigate Conflict at Work

But convincing colleagues to open up is easier said than done. “You can’t create change by lecturing,” Layne says. “You have to get people feeling something.” To build trust during the workshop, Layne began with stories about themself—moments when they felt hurt or misunderstood, such as the countless instances when they’ve been misgendered at work. Layne used their stories to delve into LGBTQ2S+ concepts, like what it means to be non-binary and how to best communicate pronouns at work—all with the goal of building empathy among the BPAC staff.

Despite there not being any out non-binary individuals at BPAC, the discussion resonated. “While I couldn’t relate to the stories per se, I could relate to the hurt those experiences caused Layne,” says Fox. “That’s what made the workshop so impactful.” Staff immediately applied the lessons about inclusivity, suggesting to leadership that the centre change its performance greeting from “Welcome, ladies and gentlemen” to “Welcome, everyone” and relabel its accessibility washrooms to be non-gendered.

To maintain this new culture, employees need to feel like they can bring their whole self to work, Layne says. They suggest setting up regular team-bonding activities, such as a lunches where staff can share their cultural or family-favourite meals and stories about them. “Fun events like this bring teams closer by helping them find common ground and learn about their differences.”

For companies that are still overwhelmed by the idea of DEIB training—and knowing which topics to prioritize—Layne recommends starting with LGBTQ2S+ inclusion. Since queer individuals encompass a range of intersecting identities, including race and gender, it naturally leads to other topics. “The heart of the matter is empathy and embracing differences,” Layne says.

The post How to Add Belonging to Your DEI Strategy appeared first on Canadian Business – How to Do Business Better.

Then you catch it: The “TIFF” sign is still there above the entrance, but “Bell Lightbox” has been quietly removed. Canada’s leading telecom company got naming rights thanks to a $30-million investment in 2006, back when this King Street building—designed to be the headquarters of the Toronto International Film Festival—was still being erected. But last summer, Bell suddenly dropped its sponsorship. Now, the sign looks naked, diminutive—four tiny letters for that cavernous house of mirrors.

When the Lightbox opened in 2010, Noah Cowan, the organization’s artistic director at the time, claimed that its only real analogue was London’s British Film Institute. Last year, the Lightbox screened 504 films; much of its programming is the kind of smaller, independent and international cinema that is so hard to find at the multiplex these days. This year, it increased its membership by almost a quarter, and since it first opened, it has grown its revenue by $17 million. Coinciding with TIFF’s 50th anniversary next year, the Lightbox’s upcoming 15th is itself an achievement.

And yet the loss of its biggest sponsor comes after years of inner turmoil, reflecting the external tumult plaguing the arts at large. “I think TIFF’s status has slipped a bit in the past few years with the pandemic and streaming, which are the two major events that have affected independent film as a whole and film festivals in particular,” says Brian D. Johnson, author of Brave Films Wild Nights: 25 Years of Festival Fever. This has exerted pressure on the larger arts organization that acts as TIFF’s home base, which has been further squeezed with Bell pulling its financing. At $5 million a year, Bell was single-handedly keeping the lights on at the Lightbox, which had an “occupancy cost” in its 2022 Canada Revenue Agency filing of $4.6 million. As one ex-programmer (who wished to remain anonymous as they still work in film) put it: “That place is a money pit.”

“We didn’t have that clear vision of ‘This is what this company is.’”

The sources I spoke to, many of them former employees, characterize TIFF as a dysfunctional institution weighed down by the demands of its oversized headquarters. Last year, on the eve of the festival (already afflicted with a reduced star presence due to the actors’ strike), the news broke that Bell had chosen not to renew its sponsorship of TIFF after almost three decades. Two days earlier, TIFF’s chief operating officer had resigned and confirmation of its vice-president of partnerships’ resignation was also made public. All of this piled on to the day-to-day plight, according to multiple sources, of a staff that had gone through several rounds of layoffs and felt overlooked by those above them. Ex-employee Lauren Coughlan distills the ongoing problems at TIFF into two central issues. “One of them is a true leadership issue. It’s really a from-the-top problem of an inability to successfully hire in upper management,” she says. The other? “We didn’t have that clear vision of ‘This is what this company is.’”

I was warned by friends in the film community that no one would talk to me about TIFF. I spoke to 10 people for this piece. Among the 17 others I contacted, most did not respond. Some claimed they had little insight as they no longer worked there, felt uncomfortable as they had friends there or still worked in the arts and couldn’t be transparent. Two people contacted me and then didn’t follow up. Two others would speak only off the record.

So, when Judy Lung, TIFF’s vice-president of strategy, communications and stakeholder relations, wrote to me and said that “it’s not an exaggeration to say most people in the Canadian screen industry have worked in some way at TIFF over the years,” it landed less as a jovial aside and more as a sign of foreboding. That outsize influence means that TIFF, in some ways a saviour of cinema in this country, also functions despotically. The organization holds the entire film industry so tightly in its grasp that it can’t be held to account.

“This is the thing about TIFF,” says Coughlan. “I looked around the industry and thought, ‘Well, I may have topped out. This might be the best there is.’ Where do you go after a major festival?”

Related: Gen Z Inspired My Mid-Career Pivot

Launched in 1976, The Toronto Festival of Festivals, as TIFF was originally known, was an opportunity for three film producers—Bill Marshall, Dusty Cohl and Henk Van der Kolk—to showcase the best films from festivals around the world as well as some of their own works. It hopped around different venues in the city that reflected its democracy and the taste of its programmers. Valerie Laws, who started attending in 1983, remembers when a pass meant you could walk into anything. She once saw eight films in one day. “It was essentially a different film festival for every person who attended,” she says.

This homemade approachability—one week, 100 movies, $6 passes—gave the event a quaintness that Torontonians could own and it became known as the “people’s festival.” “It could crudely be called the indus- trial outlet mall of world cinema,” says Johnson, “while Cannes was the high altar.”

Things started to change after Piers Handling became CEO in 1994 and the event was rebranded as the Toronto International Film Festival. A string of People’s Choice Awards wins—voted for by the festival audience—that translated into Oscar awards meant that TIFF became less a place for locals to hang out than for Hollywood to campaign for awards. This upmarket iteration of the festival no longer fit the offices it was renting a few doors down from Maple Leaf Gardens at 2 Carlton—which ex-staffer Nathaniel Siegler describes as “really crappy.” He was one of a ragtag group of young, inexperienced cinephiles on the fundraising team willing to work long hours for low pay and festival access; they were replaced in 2006 by a shiny new crew to front the campaign for TIFF’s new headquarters.

A stable home meant the festival would no longer be a roving event in thrall to local theatre chains. For programmers like Diana Sanchez, who would go on to become TIFF’s senior director of film, the prospect of sustained programming outside festival constraints was exciting, she told me. This would include the Cinematheque, TIFF’s popular year-round series of screenings and talks centred around a seemingly bottomless archive of classic films. (In fact, there are about 9,000.) In 2017, Handling told The Globe and Mail that his aim was “to build a centre of critical study somewhere in Canada.” If the festival was to provide the pulsing heart of this new organization, the Cinematheque would give it its soul. But for a scrappy organization that operated on a mere $13 million in 2004, a campaign goal of $196 million was, to put it mildly, ambitious.

Toronto’s KPMB Architects, the firm behind the Gardiner Museum and Koerner Hall, were hired to design the building. They worked alongside a vociferous committee of international filmmakers—among them Atom Egoyan, David Cronenberg, Sarah Polley and Deepa Mehta—who, according to architect Bruce Kuwabara, referred to the theatres he was to build as “cathedrals of cinema.”

“I was desperately trying to make sure it didn’t look like an office building,” recalls Kuwabara. He was able to keep out street sounds and vibrations by designing the theatres as “kind of a building within a building” and placing concrete boxes on the building’s frame like “a big carton onto a bookshelf,” he says. (At the end, Kuwabara respected Egoyan in particular for saying, “You’re the director. You’ve got the final cut.”)

But while this centre for cinematic communion was being born, the festival was becoming less and less about community. “From the time they announced the Lightbox was going to be built, the tickets were getting more and more expensive,” says Laws. With the biggest proportion of TIFF’s budget coming from philanthropic donors and sponsors (38 per cent in 2022), they were prioritized, along with TIFF members. This led to less ticket availability for the general public. Add to that the increasingly elaborate star-studded galas designed to attract patronage, and TIFF started to look like, as Toronto Sun film critic Bruce Kirkland put it in 2008, “an elitist corporate spectacle.”

When Laws saw the cost of her tickets jump by 28 per cent in 2014, she finally wrote to Handling. He sent her back “a nice letter” and two opening- night-gala tickets. Two years later, TIFF started using Ticketmaster, the site famous for controversies surrounding astronomical ticket-resale prices. If you are quick enough to get into regular festival screenings these days, the price is a reasonable $26 (on par with other festivals around the world). But even before resellers plump up the prices, premium screening tickets can go for as high as $88. So much for the people’s festival; TIFF is now the kind of event for which you can resell a premiere ticket for more than $1,000.

To take over one of Canada’s biggest not-for-profit arts organizations during a worldwide pandemic requires a certain level of sang-froid—and Cameron Bailey is definitely cool. In February, we sat in the TIFF CEO’s minimalist office with Senegalese actress M’Bissine T. Diop, in a still from the 1966 film Black Girl, watching over us, along with TIFF’s director of communications, Alejandra Sosa. Bailey wore a buttery black leather jacket and exuded a serene sense of control. When I asked him why no one would talk to me about his organization, it was one of the rare moments his serenity flickered, but only because he was baffled. By sheer force of presence, Bailey transcends confrontation. This kind of unflappability must have been invaluable when he was named to his position in 2021, right in the middle of Covid. “That has been one of the defining elements of my tenure,” Bailey told me, adding with a laugh, “It’s not great.”

I was there the day the Lightbox shut its doors in March 2020, arriving for a screening of Kelly Reichardt’s First Cow only to be turned back. (“We thought it was going to be a couple of weeks,” Bailey says.) In the following 18 months that the Lightbox was closed, TIFF membership dropped by half, according to Bailey. Offers of free access to the Cinematheque for members and free membership to anyone under 25 propped those numbers back up again. “But the makeup is different,” Bailey says. “It’s younger than it used to be.” He expressed surprise at so many young people seeking out auteur cinema, despite the growing success of repertory theatres in Toronto. Bailey likens screenings of Chantal Akerman’s 1975 feminist rendition of slow cinema Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles to a rock concert. “It’s become one of those real markers of being in the know about movies. And we find that young people actually want to be in the know.”

What the audience wants is of prime importance to Bailey. “I think what TIFF means to most people who have some connection with us is that it’s a people’s film organization—that it is about the audience,” he says. His interpretation of the people’s festival is as much about what TIFF brings to that audience as it is about what that audience brings to TIFF. That’s why there are so many social spaces in the Lightbox, from the ground-floor restaurant to the second-floor bar to the third-floor café. The act of gathering to discuss cinema is transformational, Bailey says. “It unites everything we do: When people start talking about movies, you get their different perspectives, and that tells you who they are.”

Bailey describes regular office “curation meetings” that involve “thinking through how we engage people in all the different ways they show up.” In the past, individual cinephiles with sharp taste knew how to engage those people. It’s less clear whether that still remains the case. “Now, none of the programmers have any identity and you don’t know who likes what,” says the anonymous ex-programmer. It also means that the once in-depth offerings of Cinematheque, with its 40-films-long retrospectives, have been dramatically reduced. Rather than, for instance, diving into a director’s complete career—revealing their progression across their entire oeuvre—the program is now more about sampling. Bailey believes that because streaming makes so many older films available, exhaustive programming is less valuable than introducing new work to audiences who want to be in the know. It’s a big change for the organization: Outside the festival, Cinematheque was perhaps its most respected year-round offshoot. Not to mention the original aspiration for the Lightbox was to be a place of critical study that would also house the extensive archives that fuel the Cinematheque. The program’s diminution is a common point of frustration among local cinephiles, for whom it has been a rare opportunity to fully engage in cinema and its history. It also limits the depth of discussion, countering the organization’s goal of transformation.

While TIFF was originally renowned for its approachability, there seems to be an all-encompassing inaccessibility to it now. Already the name itself is confusing for the general public: Is TIFF an arts organization or a festival? Then there’s the location, smack between an inhospitable row of theatres and tourist-trap restaurants. “A lot of people expected that the Lightbox would change that strip of King Street,” says Siegler, who worked on the building’s fundraising team from 2004 to 2006. “That’s one of the few areas that’s been pretty much exactly the same over the past 20 years.”

Once you get past its subtle exterior, the inside of the Lightbox is itself perplexing. Only on my most recent visit did I notice a silver slab attached to a concrete pillar off to the side mapping out each floor. That’s when I realized you have to take the elevator to get to the top floor, home to perhaps the most spectacular of the Lightbox’s rooms: the Film Reference Library. This space is so replete with archival material that when I visited, Crimes of the Future set pieces were unceremoniously strewn about. These are the kinds of objects that would have once populated The Gallery, an exhibition space on the first floor, but it turned out to be too expensive to keep it as an actual gallery and it’s now rented out for events. The cinemas, which seat a total of 1,333, are also rented out during the day; according to a 2017 Globe and Mail report, Lightbox ticket sales bring in less than $1 million in revenue annually. (Sosa said via email that they don’t publicly share the revenue from Lightbox ticket sales or rentals.)

“There’s a consistent issue of ‘Are we trying to be a theatre or are we an event rental space?’” says Coughlan, who was in the programming department from December 2014 to June 2021. She cleared the rights for Film Circuit, the organization’s film outreach program, and says there were constant tense meetings over space. A number of sources agreed that TIFF can’t seem to properly manage being a theatrical venue. “The people who are running the Lightbox are not exhibitors,” says Ron Mann, co-founder of Films We Like, one of the few remaining Canadian film distributors. “That’s really the problem. They don’t know how to do it.” The issue, as he sees it, arises when economic considerations dictate curatorial ones. This is particularly problematic when theatres for local indie and world cinema are dwindling; where 20 or more once existed in Toronto, now there are only a handful. When Mann does get screen time at the Lightbox, it’s limited, which makes his job—as well as the local film scene—increasingly unsustainable. (Fifty of 193 films screened at the festival last year were Canadian.)

“There’s a consistent issue of ‘Are we trying to be a theatre or are we an event rental space?’”

Even then, the schedules aren’t released much in advance, while wider changes aren’t always announced clearly, if at all—a recent hike in ticket prices, for instance, seemed to come out of nowhere. (Sosa said via email that they were announced on the website.) The organization’s streaming service, which was created for the pandemic, was also quietly shut down in February. (The site claimed the organization is “shifting focus” to the physical Lightbox; Sosa said via email that subscribers were notified.) Then there’s the labyrinthine website. The digital welcome mat to the festival has been a barrier for years. Sosa expressed exasperation when I brought it up, as it was only just redesigned in July. Guiding me through ticket purchasing, Bailey admitted it required a lot of steps, but said, “We’ve focused on ease of use.”

TIFF’s string of high-profile departures over the past five years—most notably Bell—seems disproportionate, even accounting for the pandemic. Bell declined an interview, but a statement from Devorah Lithwick, the company’s senior vice-president and chief brand officer, praised the festival’s work. Though Lithwick did not address the dissolution of the TIFF sponsorship, two months before its announcement, Bell’s parent company cut 1,300 jobs and announced the closure of six radio stations and the sale of three others. (Lithwick remains on TIFF’s board.) In the past five years, TIFF also lost its co-head, senior director, chief operating officer and vice-president of partnerships—all of them women. While there is gender parity across TIFF’s leadership, its top three positions (chair of the board, CEO and chief financial officer) are all currently occupied by men.

“There were really consistent issues of people not being ready for the scope of their job,” says Coughlan. It is not uncommon for arts organizations to staff their higher positions based on creative expertise rather than business acumen, which might be more pertinent. Bailey, for instance, started out at the festival as a programmer before becoming the art director and making his way up to co-head and then head—but he was promoted to those positions. “The problem is how they let the managers go,” the anonymous ex-programmer says. “There is no transference of knowledge in that organization.” This is doubly problematic because, per Coughlan, people are often recruited based on their programming experience for positions outside their skill set. “People [were] hired to be senior managers—managing teams of people, overseeing other managers—without management experience,” she says. “This happened repeatedly.”

Coughlan initially enjoyed working at TIFF when she arrived in 2014 but noticed a precipitous decline within a few years. This pattern of initial excitement followed by extreme disillusionment united a number of the sources I spoke to. And posts from the past year on Glassdoor, a job site where employees can review organizations, are consistent with Coughlan’s description of ill-equipped leadership at TIFF. The word “toxic” appears several times. (The site gives the organization a score of two out of five based on 229 reviews, while the CEO gets a 20 per cent approval rating.) Repeated criticisms surround the integration of new hires, lack of promotion and overworked and underpaid staff. And compensation does appear to skew top-heavy. In 2022, the number of people making over $200,000 grew from three to five despite TIFF shedding 60 per cent of its full-time employees and 70 per cent of its part-time employees between 2018 and 2022. “With TIFF, it’s always been kind of like, ‘You should be grateful,’” says the ex-programmer. “‘Aren’t you lucky to be working in a job that you’re so passionate about?’”

According to Bailey, these complaints may be conflating TIFF’s year-round non-profit arts institution with its star-spangled namesake. “Sometimes it gives people a certain impression of the workplace.” TIFF can’t match the salaries of for-profit companies, he says. What they can offer the young employees they often hire is professional development, mentoring, exposure to the industry and the feeling that they are “making a difference.” Bailey admits that the 10-day festival’s hard deadline “brings a certain kind of intensity to the work,” but they are looking at how to improve that: “I don’t think we’re there yet. But I can tell you that we are working on it.”

I would have liked to talk to other members of TIFF’s leadership team, but over several weeks, I wasn’t able to secure interviews with the chief financial officer, Douglas Allison, the head of the board, Jeffrey Remedios, or the chief programmer, Anita Lee. I emailed Sosa, the director of communications, 10 questions about numbers and stats, but only four were answered. (The financial information across this story was cobbled together from TIFF’s annual reports, publicly available on its site, as well as harder-to-access public filings with the CRA.) As an arts organization that gets one-third of its funding from government grants, TIFF is expected to be transparent. But Canadian watchdog organization Charity Intelligence, which bases its results on audited reports provided by the CRA, gives TIFF a D+ for public reporting. It also states that only 64 cents on the dollar are available for its programs after fundraising and administration and management costs, which lands “outside of Charity Intelligence’s reasonable range” of overhead spending. “There seems to be this internal sense of ‘We’re just this little festival,’” Coughlan says. “We all know that arts are tricky to fund and are constantly trying to do more with less, but it’s also one of the biggest festivals in the world.”

“With TIFF it’s like, ‘You should be grateful to be working in a job that you’re passionate about.’”

Of TIFF’s $43 million in expenditures in 2022, $29 million was spent on charitable activities. That includes highly publicized diversity initiatives, like Share Her Journey, which focuses on representation of women, and Every Story, which supports a multiplicity of under-represented groups. But what these programs actually do and their sustained impacts are not immediately clear. (A number of Share Her Journey fellows did not respond to interview requests.) This is particularly troubling considering community partners like BIPOC TV and Film, a non-profit organization advocating for equity in Canada’s screen industry, help with outreach despite their own lack of resources. (BIPOC operates on one-tenth of TIFF’s budget at best and sometimes runs initiatives on no budget simply because it benefits the community.)

What I could glean from the TIFF site is that its talent-development programs involve mentorships, workshops and speaking opportunities (and, of course, a greater presence at the festival). Bailey describes connecting people within the industry for Share Her Journey, which is reminiscent of his approach within the Lightbox. “We try to open those doors,” he says. “We’ve made some progress. We can point to people who have moved through those programs and gone on to be able to create new work. Is it enough? There’s always more that we could be doing.”

In its ideal form, the TIFF Lightbox offers something increasingly valuable for how rare it is these days: immersion. At its best, it is a space dedicated to forging a sustained relationship with cinema, one in which time ceases to be limited and there are no distractions.

Corey Atad, a member of TIFF who is often at the Lightbox multiple times a week, has had those transformational experiences that Bailey talks about. He mentions 2020’s Angela Schanelec retrospective, which screened nine of the German auteur’s films in all their static, emotionally ambiguous glory. This holistic approach to one filmmaker’s oeuvre allowed him to get lost in her development as an artist and in turn helped him develop. “It changed how I think about cinema,” he says.

The TIFF Lightbox building itself was designed to be immersive. Kuwabara explains that it was set up to choreograph the people progressing through it. “There’s the whole thing about seeing and being seen and sequencing movement,” he says. But what is immersive in theory is not always the so in practice.

The Lightbox can operate as a warren—box upon box of disorientation; in some ways, it’s a perfect reflection of an organization that functions in similar confusion. TIFF is a $43-million box that keeps tipping from its initial ambition to be Canada’s centre of cinema into a real estate property struggling to pay its bills, the loss of its biggest sponsor rendering the task even more difficult. It is a place that originally grew out of local cinephilia but now leans on its audience for perspective; a place that regularly launches sparkly initiatives around identity rather than devoting its resources to fortifying a diverse local film ecosystem.

In an atmosphere like this, where grand artistic ambitions often go unrealized, it makes sense that the very large, very heavy hinged doors Kuwabara originally chose for the front entrance of the TIFF Lightbox, were silently replaced by sliding doors—“like you see in malls,” he says.

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