Time of my Life (part one)

Some thoughts on my time as Executive Director of Communications for the Prime Minister's Office

I spent an incredible and intense year and a half as Executive Director of Communications for the Office of the Prime Minister of Canada. It’s been a few months since I left. This seems like the right time to have reflect on what was and to write something about it.

I’ll be releasing this in sections on my Substack over the next few weeks; subscribe (it’s free) to get each section as soon as they’re published.

Part One, in which our hero (I am our hero!) answers a literal and metaphorical call

From late 2023 to early 2025 I had the enormous privilege (and equally enormous responsibility) of being the Executive Director of Communications for the Office of the Prime Minister of Canada. That’s not a sentence I ever thought I’d say. It’s not a time I’ll ever forget.

Let’s get the obvious questions out of the way, so we can focus on the rest of this:

Yes, I think that Justin Trudeau was a good PM, and yes I was proud to serve him. (I am quite sure history will be kind to him; history is already being kind more quickly than many would have thought.) Yes, he really is that attractive (and by “attractive,” I don’t just mean handsome; he has a kind of gravity that can’t be duplicated, and he knows how to work a room better than anyone I’ve ever seen). No, he’s not an idiot, and shame on anyone who buys into that. He’s genuinely very smart and very fast; he’s extremely gifted at taking in a lot and making informed decisions. Yes, he was a terrific boss. Yes, he’s a huge nerd. (When it comes to the Stars, he prefers the Wars to the Trek.) Yes, it was grueling. No, I didn’t take any real vacation in the time I was there. Yes, I moved to Ottawa part-time, made less money, and saw less of my family. Yes, it was brutal: the media landscape is rough, opposition politics are relentless, and the inbox never sleeps. Yes, I’m quite certain that Pierre Poilievre wears a lot of makeup (not that there’s anything wrong with that). Yes, I had a level of security clearance and got to carry something we called the Bat-phone.

No, it wasn’t perfect. Yes, I grew a lot and learned a lot about myself.

But also: I learned just as much about you.

And yes, it was worth it.

The calls started coming in the summer of 2023. First from Chief of Staff Katie Telford, who asked, “What would it take to convince you to come join our team?” (To which I thought, “I’m already convinced, and it’s an honour that you asked, you weirdly self-effacing genius.”) Then Deputy Chief of Staff Brian Clow, who made sure my Is were dotted and my Ts were crossed. Then Senior Advisor Ben Chin, who deadpanned, “Why do you want to make less money and spend more time in Ottawa?” (Ben Chin is tremendous.)

On a Friday evening in October, an unknown number from a 613 area code rang my phone. “I have a call for Max Valiquette,” someone said. “This is he,” I replied with a phrase I haven’t used before or since, in the most official voice I could manage.

“Please hold for Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.”

Oh, okay. Not a typical Friday, then. Family pizza night would have to wait a bit.

A click. Someone said something like, “You’re secure, you have go.” And then a voice recognizable to all of Canada said, “Max!” and I had what is one of the three most important conversations of my life.

(The actual phone call. Photo: Alison Lawler-Dean)

I said yes to the job almost immediately. I only paused for a short consultation with my partner, who said “you have to take this!” with zero hesitation. (Alison Lawler-Dean is not only my favourite human but also the best human, I could not have done this without her. The greatest feeling is being in a relationship in which both partners know that if it’s important to the other, they will make it work.)

I didn’t say yes because I underestimated the challenge; I said yes because I understood it completely. (Or as completely as I could at the time.) Approval ratings for the PM were terrible. Public perception of the whole government and the entire Liberal party was also very bad. Pierre Poilievre wasn’t just being called “the probable next Prime Minister;” he was being called “the next Prime Minister.” By himself, as often as by anyone else: if I had a nickel for every time Poilievre said, “when I’m Prime Minister,” I could afford a million tight t-shirts.

Also: how did that work out?

The job was hard. Intense, unrelenting, and unyielding. The whiplash from having to deal with the massive and then the minute was unparalleled. The hardest job I’ve ever had, by a factor of 10. But the best job I’ve ever had, by a factor of 100. (And I’ve worked for myself, y’all.)

Next: we get into the job itself, and how much rhyming one man can do in Question Period