Scrolling…scrolling…

A Niagara-on-the-Lake councillor earns $20,400 per year (before deductions).

That salary is paid by the taxpayer.

Put another way, at roughly minimum wage, that compensation reflects about 20 hours a week—or four hours a day, Monday to Friday.

Now let me tell you what the job actually looks like.

Before a single council or committee meeting begins, there are hours of preparation: reviewing lengthy staff reports, planning questions, researching policy, and reading correspondence. Add to that the boards and committees we sit on as representatives of residents—each with their own meetings, agendas, and events. Then layer in volunteer work, community events, coffee meetings with residents, daily emails, phone calls, and follow-ups.

When you do the real math, the “hourly wage” quickly drops to something closer to five dollars an hour.

Recently, a resident suggested that councillors should not be spending taxpayer money “scrolling on social media.”

That comment stopped me in my tracks.

What, exactly, is considered my “spare time”?

Is it the extra 20 minutes I take in the grocery store—supporting a local business—while my ice cream melts in the cart because a resident has stopped me with a concern that matters deeply to them?

Is it my spare time at my daughter’s sports game, when she’s up to bat and turns to the bleachers to tell me to watch—while a resident is mid-conversation and I gently ask for a pause so I can be present for my child?

Is it my spare time at my full-time job, when I can’t answer the phone immediately, and instead of understanding, I’m publicly criticized for “ignoring” someone?

Councillors do not run for office because of job security or generous paycheques.

If that were the goal, no rational person would sign up.

When I was first asked why I was running, my answer was simple: I grew up in this community, and it was a positive experience. Over time, I began to see a divide forming—one that was being fueled largely through social media rather than resolved through conversation.

There was a time when people met for a coffee at Sugarplum Café to talk through differences and work toward solutions. While that café is now a Tim Hortons—still a perfectly good meeting place, alongside many other wonderful local spots—too many people choose instead to air grievances online.

When invited to meet face-to-face for a coffee, many decline.

Here’s the truth: real issues are not solved on social media.

Real change does not happen in comment threads.

And a better Niagara-on-the-Lake cannot be built through posts alone.

So why the concern when a councillor uses social media in their spare time to provide information, correct misinformation, or help residents understand complex municipal matters?

Engagement is not neglect.

Visibility is not laziness.

And scrolling—often between meetings, work, family, and community commitments—is not a misuse of taxpayer dollars.

It is, in many cases, one of the few remaining ways to meet residents where they are.

If we truly want solutions, accountability, and progress, then the conversation needs to move beyond assumptions—and back to respectful dialogue.

I’ll still happily meet you for a coffee.